song_tra_bong | April Fool's

She runs a hand idly up his calf and halfway up his thigh, but no higher. "Mhm." Even drunk, she's still a tease.

She's lying on her stomach, so she twists her head a little to examine her own legs. "Thanks. I like 'em."

A smile quirks his lips at the touch, but he doesn't comment further on it. He does push the leg into her hand a little though, a silent encouragement perhaps.

'They keep you alive. I'd advise you to keep them safe.'

She traces abstract patterns on his thigh with a fingertip, one loop occasionally arcing high.

"Rather attached to them," she murmurs. "So I'll do my best."

The tracing is nice, especially when the fingertip reaches higher. He still doesn't comment though, just keeps up the lazy smile.

'Glad to hear it. You wouldn't be the same to look at, without them.'

She laughs again.

"Be shorter, for one thing. Have to sell off all my shoes. Probably scream a lot more."

She can be a bit of a morbid drunk. To compensate, she cranes her neck and kisses him lightly.

"And not in the fun way," she says against his mouth.

All the while, her fingers circle, gradually shifting up.

The kiss is returned easily as he tries to shift towards the hand as much as is possible. Which isn't very but he tries anyway. Feels nice.

'Well, that's no good then,' he murmurs quietly. 'Screaming in pain is never so much fun as in other ways.'

"No," she says, remembering fire and teeth.

"Best to tip the scale in the positive direction."

Her hand snakes up to his hip, then then down and across, but just enough to tease. Back to idle circles on his thigh.

His eyes close for a moment, then open as the hand moves away again. He shifts a little because teasing, then leans over to stub his cigarette out, twisting himself an ashtray for convenience.

'Positive is always better than negative,' he agrees calmly. Though the calmness may well be false.

"Mmm."

She smiles slowly, pleased, because teasing is what she's good at.

The pattern starts again. Up the thigh to hip, across again but higher--skimming the skin just above the waistband of the pants. Fingers linger long enough to twist the button open (standard military issue, she could undo it in the dark)...

...before slinking back to his thigh.

'Enjoying yourself?' he enquires in a light tone, dropping a hand to lightly caress the back of her neck.

'I don't think I'll buy you any more alcohol if it makes you tease like this.'

"Mmm, immensely."

She attempts a pout, but it quickly gets taken over by a smirk. "Oh, whatever shall I do--"

And her hand isn't on his thigh any more, or on his hip, but yanking the zipper down and there. She lunges forward while her hand works, kissing him hard.

His breath catches in his throat at the sudden assault but he kisses her back just as hard, eyes closing as fingers run down her skin to cup her breast, thumb gently brushing her nipple.

'I think you know exactly what you're doing.'

"Your vote of confidence is appreciated," she murmurs, laughing low in her throat.

There's a twist of her wrist and her mouth is against his pulse point, her free hand raking nails lightly over his ribs.

He gasps a little, hissing his breath back out again at the twist, tilting his head to give her access to his neck.

'Keep doing that and you'll have all the votes you want.'

His thumb presses a little harder, becoming a touch more insistent as his other hand runs down her side to rest on her hip.

She just laughs again in return, the kiss to his throat becoming a bite with the increased pressure of his hand.

She moans softly and shifts her grip, working him slowly. She wants this to last.

He groans a little at the slow pace but doesn't try to force more yet, he just pinches her nipple lightly, twisting just a fraction. And he moves the hand on her hip, letting it trace along the base of her abdomen in a series of light, slow, brushes.

The muscles of her stomach flinch involuntarily at his touch; she's always been a little ticklish.

She presses closer to him, shifting her hips against his leg as she rotates her wrist.

He can't stop the moan now and the slow rocking of hips, pushing up into her hand. He grasps the back of her head and pulls it back by her hair - not roughly, but insistently - so he can kiss her deeply as the hand that had been roaming her body slides under the waistband of her pyjama pants.

She arches her neck, making for greater tension against her scalp because God does that feel good.

She gasps against his mouth when he touches her and she kisses him all the harder in thank you, tightening her grip like a reflex.

His breath hisses again at the tightened grasping, fingers pressing harder. He's not always the gentlest of lovers, even tending towards the selfish at times - but not all the time.

He lets go of her head to tug at the pants, without stopping his touches for an instant.

'Off. Get these off.'

She nods wordlessly, arching her back to tug the pants down over her hips. She shimmies her legs, shifting them to around her ankles, then kicking them off entirely.

"Your turn," she pants.

His way is - he thinks - easier. He just stands up, lets the pants drop, then crawls back on to the bed. He stays on all fours as he leans down to kiss her again, then trails his mouth down her chest to pull lightly on the points of her breasts.

'We should do this more often.'

She gasps--one hand twisting in the sheets, the other resting almost reverently on his hair.

"Absolutely."

He smiles lazily, slipping his hand back between her legs as he does, wanting her ready for him.

'I think this is the only time you ever agree with me and mean it,' he says in a complaining tone. The press of his fingers should let her know that he's not mad about it though.

"That's--ah!--not strictly true."

She struggles to catch her breath.

"Not that I can...think of any good examples...but you are distracting me."

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