Mary Anne Bell (
song_tra_bong) wrote2006-10-29 09:12 pm
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Mary Anne doesn't move when she sleeps--no tossing and turning, no kicking or flailing of arms. She tends to wake up in exactly the same position she drifted off in, at least when she's sleeping alone. Some training dies hard.
And some not so. The need to wake up ready to fight has eased in her somewhat; she's harder to wake and the process of waking is slower. It hasn't been a problem yet, so now she sleeps, curled on her side with her hands tucked beneath her chin.
And some not so. The need to wake up ready to fight has eased in her somewhat; she's harder to wake and the process of waking is slower. It hasn't been a problem yet, so now she sleeps, curled on her side with her hands tucked beneath her chin.
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Then he bends over to kiss her deeply, sharp teeth tearing at tender lips as he tastes her blood on his tongue finally. He shudders, his heart pounding, savouring the taste in his mouth, between their kiss.
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She works her hands beneath the fabric without undoing the fly; nails tease over buttocks and thighs, almost but not quite moving around to the front before she pulls them free.
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His eyes clear some as he grins down at her.
"Haven't lost your touch, huh?"
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A quick scrape of nails along his jaw before she pulls him into another kiss.
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Meanwhile, her fingers trace patterns along his waist, gradually toying with with the button and fly on his pants. Her motions are deliberately, teasingly slow.
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She runs a hand through his hair, nails scraping scalp then back down along his neck.
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