[You, i.e., Sera, who features prominently in these other ideas. She's still stood on her feet, so it's easy to loop his arms around her waist and tug her in closer, to kiss her again, lingering.]
[Well. That ruins the mood. Sirius grimaces, a little, as his eyes roll up to consider-- well. What little he can see of his hair. Which isn't much, 'cos it's so bloody short.]
[Which he says somewhat heavily, begrudging the prompting to get over it and move on. Granted, it's difficult to be fully begrudging when there's such a lovely ear-nipping incentive. But still.]
[She looks at him for a long moment one eyebrow nice and high, and then she puts her mouth on his neck, and nips, and gets to work making a very prominent mark.
This is the second time that Sirius has had that exact same thought in the last twenty minutes or so. He is happy to be having that thought again. The slump of his shoulders is a sing of just how spine-melty a feeling all this is.
And he pretty much shuts up then too, no conversation, either verbal or hand-squeezed--though he's capable of still conveying feeling and emotion via his hands, and he proves that as he goes for the front of her shirt, slipping the buttons open one-handed. Very dexterous, especially considering where his mind already is.]
[She moves her fingers to tug at her tie, still licking the spot that'll be bright purple in no time at all, and then moves back a little, so she can slip it off -
And she hands that to him, too.
Maybe this is part of her game, too. All her clothes get handed off to him, and he can decide what to do with them.
[He grins, vaguely--head tipped away a little to give her the space to work--but he's undressed enough girls wearing school neckties to know what this is in his hand without looking down. He twists to loop the tie around his neck and shoulders instead. It hangs quite short on him.
Free of the burden of her tie, he slips his hand down to push her shirt open. If this is a game, it's a good one.]
[Her shirt falls open, and she untucks it, so he can see a swath of skin from her neck to her skirt, only broken by the material of her bra, soft and just this side of pink.
[Is that even a question? Well-- yes, sometimes, maybe, it's a question. There are benefits to looking, and some days that can be enough, for enjoyment--but right now, Sirius is far too greedy to think in those terms.
So as an answer to that question, he looks, for about two seconds--and then slips his hand against her, palm to the curve of her breast.]
And tugs it up, over his eyes, and loops it there.
She's in charge, now. She pushes at his shoulder a little, so he'll sit, because this is outdoors and they're on a rock, and she wants to keep him from falling head over heels and breaking his head open.]
[The tie over his eyes means that he's less prepared for the push to his shoulder. He stumbles back a step before he takes the hint, and sits down, reaching to pull the tie down with a faint grin.
Definitely watching now. She's got his total attention.]
If you had something else in mind, you shouldn't have offered the choice.
[Not that he's exactly complaining now. Now, he's just watching.]
[Well indeed. But all right, if those are the rules, he will, temporarily, abide. With great ceremony, he raises his hands and then sits on them. It adds a little something to his eagerness.]
[She turns her head a bit, and moves her legs so she's got a wider stance, and slides her shirt down her shoulders.
And tosses it to him, in the same motion that she drops her slate, careful, and turns around.
And maybe she's teasing, but she makes a show out of taking her bra off, one strap, then the other, rolls her shoulders back, seems to consider if she's going to turn around again, keeping one eye on Sirius as she looks back at him. Eyebrows up.
And flips her skirt up, quick, cheeky, maybe in more ways than one.]
[He catches her shirt, easily, one-handed. Good hand-eye coordination--and it's not like he's focused on anything else, not with this show in front of him.
The flip of her skirt gets a grin, the momentary flash of bare skin (more bare skin) a new target for his gaze, before he drags his eyes back up to her face, and the flirty little curve of her smile--]
[She unhooked her bra, and that goes over her shoulder towards him, turning a bit so he can catch sight of one nipple, and brings her finger to the waistband of her skirt.
And draws it down.
Slowly.
Slowly.
Until she it finally eases over her hips, and she drops it so she can step out, and turns halfway. Still happy with your choice, Black?]
[No. No, he is not happy with his choice, but at the same time: he is very happy, in such a way that he is left speechless and mostly unable to stand up. And he wants very badly to stand up because
Merlin's beard.
But he manages, through sheer force of will and determination, to stay where he is. Sitting down. Staring at every bit of her that he can. This is like a birthday present and it's not even his birthday.]
[This took a lot more forethought for her, to invent something he would like, to invent this day - the puzzle and the reward. For all that she's not altogether sure about sex, she knows he likes it, and she likes the intimacy involved, even if it's not authentic, even if she knows the barriers to it.
She turns all the way then, moves closer, kicking her skirt just a little bit away. She's pale all over, paler here in the light of the gardens, and she gets down so she's kneeling over him. At this angle, her breasts look heavier, and it's easy to see the flush on her face, the tinge of embarrassment, but she's still not touching, and one hand goes
right
down
between her own legs, but she keeps her eyes on him, her smile getting smug and satisfied with the way he's looking at her.
She stays a moment, hovering just over him, and almost presses a kiss to his mouth but no, it's just a breath of one, hot air.
She moves her hand back, and very lightly presses it against his wrist, the wetness of it smearing across his skin.]
[There are very few things that can render Sirius Black perfectly speechless.
This is one of those things.
Her every movement--her lean forward, the breath against his mouth, almost a kiss in of itself--and the movement of her hand, between her own legs, and then the press of her wet fingers against his skin--
Merlin, is about all that he can summon, and the oath is a little strangled, even in his own head. The little flush on his cheeks, that's not embarrassment, that's real want, and he grabs for her hand, no longer able to help himself. He doesn't pull her down the way that he wants to. But he's got to be tethered to her, even if it's only a little. Heated skin to heated skin. Merlin, but he wants her.]
[Her smile, if possible, only grows more satisfied, and she does that silent giggle that only Seraphim can manage as he grabs her wrist. She knees up, so she's not leaning over him anymore, but still managing not to touch his legs, and she takes his hand off hers and shakes her head, presses a finger of her dry hand to her mouth, as if shush can mean don't touch.
When her hands are free, she palms her breasts, rolls her nipples, and then moves her hands down so they're on her thighs-
-and then slides them on his thighs, just like that, her fingers going up to the waistband of his trousers, to under his shirt, so the tips of her fingers are just against his hipbones.
And she tugs a bit, scoots in closer, and finally lowers her weight onto his legs, her feet tucking up under his knees.
[Merlin, okay, yes, if not touching leaves her hands free to touch him, and possibly herself, again, then yes, he is okay with not touching. And obeying. When given incentive, he is uncommonly good at obeying. (Now is not the time for dog jokes.)
Instead, sort of breathless--still definitely lost for words--he just nods, his head sort of tipped back, but not so far back that he loses sight of her. Not that he could, because he can't bloody well look away. The weight of her, warm, on his legs--that's as intoxicating as anything, as the little touch and squeeze of her fingers.]
[She leans in and presses a kiss against his neck, and then focuses there, nipping a bit, and finally biting enough and sucking to raise a mark, and one hand goes to palm him, but not do much more than that. If he watches, her hair is falling against her breasts, in the way, making it hard to see where her other hand is, right between her legs again.
She's rocking her weight, then, gently. None of this is going very fast, but it's going at a pace that makes it hard to think about how she's naked and on top of a boy who isn't, in the open, where anyone could walk by and see. If she keeps focused on him, she won't think about it.
She moves back after a minute, to start tugging at his waistband in earnest now, to undo his fly and reach for him, to palm him again, only this time it's skin to skin. She tosses her hair back, smoothly, and bites her bottom lip, and moves so if he looks down he can see her fingers, he can see them moving in and out - he's getting as much of a show as she can give in this position.
Maybe it's better she can't make any noise, because all the noises that she would be making right now would be tiny and high-pitched and maybe a little embarrassed, flustered, even though she can see how much he likes it, how much he's enjoying himself.]
[It's almost better that it's all silent. That means he's got to watch her expression, and the movements of her hands--all small, all quiet, and the hush of the scene is almost more intoxicating than anything else.
When she puts her hand on him, skin to skin--warm and soft and Merlin, then he's got to make a noise, a quiet inhalation that he lets out, shaky. His eyes are fixed on her, face and breasts and fingers, moving slowly, in her--and he's jealous, momentarily, of those fingers, but the thought and the feeling don't last, because he can't think beyond the sight of her like this, or the pressure of her palm against him. Hard already, he tries to remember to breathe, to not grab for her again--]
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A map and a riddle and a puzzle. And you.
[You, i.e., Sera, who features prominently in these other ideas. She's still stood on her feet, so it's easy to loop his arms around her waist and tug her in closer, to kiss her again, lingering.]
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The kiss is longer, now, because Sera draws it out, because she's pressing against him, because she wants to press against him.
And she nips his bottom lip and tugs, and grins when she pulls away, just a little.]
I like your hair short like this.
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Really.
[when does the kissing start again]
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And it'll grow back.
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[Which he says somewhat heavily, begrudging the prompting to get over it and move on. Granted, it's difficult to be fully begrudging when there's such a lovely ear-nipping incentive. But still.]
But now my neck gets cold.
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She's too distracted to keep talking.]
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Well.
This is the second time that Sirius has had that exact same thought in the last twenty minutes or so. He is happy to be having that thought again. The slump of his shoulders is a sing of just how spine-melty a feeling all this is.
And he pretty much shuts up then too, no conversation, either verbal or hand-squeezed--though he's capable of still conveying feeling and emotion via his hands, and he proves that as he goes for the front of her shirt, slipping the buttons open one-handed. Very dexterous, especially considering where his mind already is.]
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And she hands that to him, too.
Maybe this is part of her game, too. All her clothes get handed off to him, and he can decide what to do with them.
It's a little bit dangerous.]
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Free of the burden of her tie, he slips his hand down to push her shirt open. If this is a game, it's a good one.]
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She looks at him for a minute-]
Look, or touch?
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So as an answer to that question, he looks, for about two seconds--and then slips his hand against her, palm to the curve of her breast.]
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And takes the tie.
And tugs it up, over his eyes, and loops it there.
She's in charge, now. She pushes at his shoulder a little, so he'll sit, because this is outdoors and they're on a rock, and she wants to keep him from falling head over heels and breaking his head open.]
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Definitely watching now. She's got his total attention.]
If you had something else in mind, you shouldn't have offered the choice.
[Not that he's exactly complaining now. Now, he's just watching.]
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You can touch or you can watch, Sirius, you can't do both.
[Well.]
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[Well indeed. But all right, if those are the rules, he will, temporarily, abide. With great ceremony, he raises his hands and then sits on them. It adds a little something to his eagerness.]
Go on.
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And tosses it to him, in the same motion that she drops her slate, careful, and turns around.
And maybe she's teasing, but she makes a show out of taking her bra off, one strap, then the other, rolls her shoulders back, seems to consider if she's going to turn around again, keeping one eye on Sirius as she looks back at him. Eyebrows up.
And flips her skirt up, quick, cheeky, maybe in more ways than one.]
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The flip of her skirt gets a grin, the momentary flash of bare skin (more bare skin) a new target for his gaze, before he drags his eyes back up to her face, and the flirty little curve of her smile--]
Tease.
[But he likes it. Obviously.]
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And draws it down.
Slowly.
Slowly.
Until she it finally eases over her hips, and she drops it so she can step out, and turns halfway. Still happy with your choice, Black?]
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Merlin's beard.
But he manages, through sheer force of will and determination, to stay where he is. Sitting down. Staring at every bit of her that he can. This is like a birthday present and it's not even his birthday.]
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She turns all the way then, moves closer, kicking her skirt just a little bit away. She's pale all over, paler here in the light of the gardens, and she gets down so she's kneeling over him. At this angle, her breasts look heavier, and it's easy to see the flush on her face, the tinge of embarrassment, but she's still not touching, and one hand goes
right
down
between her own legs, but she keeps her eyes on him, her smile getting smug and satisfied with the way he's looking at her.
She stays a moment, hovering just over him, and almost presses a kiss to his mouth but no, it's just a breath of one, hot air.
She moves her hand back, and very lightly presses it against his wrist, the wetness of it smearing across his skin.]
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This is one of those things.
Her every movement--her lean forward, the breath against his mouth, almost a kiss in of itself--and the movement of her hand, between her own legs, and then the press of her wet fingers against his skin--
Merlin, is about all that he can summon, and the oath is a little strangled, even in his own head. The little flush on his cheeks, that's not embarrassment, that's real want, and he grabs for her hand, no longer able to help himself. He doesn't pull her down the way that he wants to. But he's got to be tethered to her, even if it's only a little. Heated skin to heated skin. Merlin, but he wants her.]
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When her hands are free, she palms her breasts, rolls her nipples, and then moves her hands down so they're on her thighs-
-and then slides them on his thighs, just like that, her fingers going up to the waistband of his trousers, to under his shirt, so the tips of her fingers are just against his hipbones.
And she tugs a bit, scoots in closer, and finally lowers her weight onto his legs, her feet tucking up under his knees.
Right up against his hip-]
No hands on me. Not yet.
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Instead, sort of breathless--still definitely lost for words--he just nods, his head sort of tipped back, but not so far back that he loses sight of her. Not that he could, because he can't bloody well look away. The weight of her, warm, on his legs--that's as intoxicating as anything, as the little touch and squeeze of her fingers.]
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She's rocking her weight, then, gently. None of this is going very fast, but it's going at a pace that makes it hard to think about how she's naked and on top of a boy who isn't, in the open, where anyone could walk by and see. If she keeps focused on him, she won't think about it.
She moves back after a minute, to start tugging at his waistband in earnest now, to undo his fly and reach for him, to palm him again, only this time it's skin to skin. She tosses her hair back, smoothly, and bites her bottom lip, and moves so if he looks down he can see her fingers, he can see them moving in and out - he's getting as much of a show as she can give in this position.
Maybe it's better she can't make any noise, because all the noises that she would be making right now would be tiny and high-pitched and maybe a little embarrassed, flustered, even though she can see how much he likes it, how much he's enjoying himself.]
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When she puts her hand on him, skin to skin--warm and soft and Merlin, then he's got to make a noise, a quiet inhalation that he lets out, shaky. His eyes are fixed on her, face and breasts and fingers, moving slowly, in her--and he's jealous, momentarily, of those fingers, but the thought and the feeling don't last, because he can't think beyond the sight of her like this, or the pressure of her palm against him. Hard already, he tries to remember to breathe, to not grab for her again--]
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