[ this isn't even really to comfort her. like, it doesn't make her feel any better about the stupid kennex mess or anything, it just... this is one of those things she only fails to do at least two or three times a week to spare john from that kind of hurt, and if he's gonna up and freaking defend the chick trying to out to the ship that sally's a friggin' werewolf, then fine. an eye for an eye, or whatever.
or maybe she just doesn't even care about an eye for an eye and wants to do shit like this with someone she's legit 0% upset with for once.
it's complicated. more complicated than she wants to even think about right now, so she just... doesn't think. instead, she disappears into the feeling of it. into lifting her own hand to slide up the back of his neck and into his hair, the other slipping under the hem of his shirt to rest on the bare skin of his side. ]
[The pressure of her hand--skin against skin, in both places where it presses down--it's not so light a touch, it's something very real and warm. It makes him lean that much more into the kiss--a twitch forward at first, almost involuntary--and then with more interest, and force, and intent, his fingers skimming from the light pressure at her cheek back into her hair.
And when he moves over her--that, too, is nearly involuntary, a response that he barely thinks of. Pressure against pressure; warmth against warmth. He fits himself to her easily as he continues kissing her, pleased at this development despite any misgivings that he ought to have, any second thoughts--there's no space for thoughts, not now.]
[ as he shifts, so does she until they've fit together like pieces of a borderline-inappropriate puzzle. no - like cogs, maybe. like they've done this a million times when it's really only been a dozen or two.
when his fingers comb back through her hair, she catches his bottom lip momentarily between her teeth, but then his fingers catch a snag and it gives a tug and it doesn't quite occur to her that the tug wasn't deliberate. her head drops back a little, offering access to her neck and the top of her chest, though sally does at least have the presence of mind to offer the side of her neck without the lovely bite-scars. ]
it's hard to write about sally's throat and not write about thinking about biting it just fyi
[And--easy, quickly, so natural a move it's nearly like instinct--Sirius ducks down to fit his mouth to her throat, to press a kiss there--and then another, tracing along some invisible line. His lip tingles a little where her teeth had just been, and he nearly thinks of going back and getting more of that, loathe to leave that little bite.
But no: this is good too, warm--warm when he presses his other hand against her chest, not so much a grip as a splay, pressure, as his kissing dips a little lower, warm breath a ghost against damp spots each time he lifts up to shift his kisses down.]
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or maybe she just doesn't even care about an eye for an eye and wants to do shit like this with someone she's legit 0% upset with for once.
it's complicated. more complicated than she wants to even think about right now, so she just... doesn't think. instead, she disappears into the feeling of it. into lifting her own hand to slide up the back of his neck and into his hair, the other slipping under the hem of his shirt to rest on the bare skin of his side. ]
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And when he moves over her--that, too, is nearly involuntary, a response that he barely thinks of. Pressure against pressure; warmth against warmth. He fits himself to her easily as he continues kissing her, pleased at this development despite any misgivings that he ought to have, any second thoughts--there's no space for thoughts, not now.]
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when his fingers comb back through her hair, she catches his bottom lip momentarily between her teeth, but then his fingers catch a snag and it gives a tug and it doesn't quite occur to her that the tug wasn't deliberate. her head drops back a little, offering access to her neck and the top of her chest, though sally does at least have the presence of mind to offer the side of her neck without the lovely bite-scars. ]
it's hard to write about sally's throat and not write about thinking about biting it just fyi
But no: this is good too, warm--warm when he presses his other hand against her chest, not so much a grip as a splay, pressure, as his kissing dips a little lower, warm breath a ghost against damp spots each time he lifts up to shift his kisses down.]