song_tra_bong | April Fool's

Entry tags:

julian,
smut

April Fool's

After sending a prayer of thanks to whoever installed the lift, Mary Anne shuffles down the hall towards her room. The wig has finally succumbed to the laws of physics and is tilting precariously. She's holding it on with one hand, if only because she doesn't want to accidently trip over it.

Finally, she slumps in relief against the doorframe, knocking twice. "Give a girl a hand?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

He tugs playfully at one hard nipple with his lips, then grins up at her, blue eyes sparkling.

'If distracting you is what it takes to make you more pliable, I'm fine with that.'

"Pliable, huh?" She sits halfway up, just enough to smother that grin with a kiss.

"Sounds bendy." She snickers softly and kisses him again. "Distract away."

Julian laughs after she pulls away, taking one of her hands and pulling it back to touch him again.

'Mutual distraction seems like a good idea to me.'

His finger press harder to add emphasis to his words.

'Don't you agree?'

She lets out a soft, strangled cry. "You make a pretty...convincing argument...for the buddy system."

Wandering hands that touch and tease and twist.

"'M gonna need some...more concrete evidence, though."

'Oh?'

It's a small word, almost lost in a breathless pant as she plays over him. he responds in kind, knowing she likes it.

'What did you...mmm....have in mind?'

"I don't know...ooooh..."

Both hands rake through his hair, over neck and shoulders, then further down.

"You're clever...sure you can think of so--OH--mething."

'I'm sure I can.'

He pulls away from her, taking her wrists and pinning them by her head as he nudges her legs further apart with a knee. And then pauses, because...

'Damnit. Protection?'

Dworkin with scissors is not something a man is likely to forget in a hurry.

And 'Sex Education with Dworkin' is not a class she'd care to repeat.

"Night stand. In the drawer."

The letters that were there previously have since been stowed elsewhere.

He lunges for the drawer. Lack of letters? A good thing in this situation, most definitely.

'Flourescent green. How adventerous. And ribbed, extra thin and chocolate flavoured. Or strawberry. Or mint. And one with a smiley face on the end.'

He fans the array like a deck of cards. If Mary Anne wants to point out that maybe some of those condoms used to just be regular, he'll merely smirk.

'Lady's choice. Pick.'

She props herself up on her elbows, blinking. She could have sworn...

She gives him a look that amounts do 'This is all your doing, isn't it?' while considering her options.

"Hm...let's save the flavors for a rainy day and just go with classic green." The effort it's taking not to laugh right now is incredible.

'Wise choice. I wouldn't want to get lost in the dark. Flouresence is so useful for that.'

The rest get tossed back in the drawer. If Mary Anne's paying attention, she might notice that by the time it gets rolled on, it's turned a dark bottle green. His favourite colour. But he's kissing her again, so maybe she won't see.

"Clearly. Wouldn't be able to find yourself in this place if you weren't...glowing."

And her laughter is muffled by his kiss. The flouresence does seem less intense, but she did only catch a glimpse from the corner of her eye, so she'll write it off as a trick of the light. Besides, she truthfully couldn't be bothered to care what color it is.

'I should keep a couple on me at all times, in case I get lost in an avalanche,' he muses, then grins and pulls her arms above her head, holding them at the wrists with one hand, while his other guides himself inside her.

And then stupid jokes seem a lot less important really.

She almost says something about jogging naked at night but oh--

She arches against him, eyes wide and dark, her breath hot against the hollow of his throat.

He swallows hard, once, then moves, enjoying the closeness of her breath playing on his skin, the feel of her body arching into his.

He doesn't release her hands, just pushes into her hard, in long slow thrusts.

Her hands curl in on themselves, fingers scrambling at his grip--not looking to get free, just something to hold.

A low moan builds in the back of her throat, sprinkled with praise and benediction in English and Vietnamese; her lips graze his skin when she speaks.

Which is precisely why he doesn't move hie head, he likes the feeling of her lips brushing against him even if he doesn't know all the words.

The wrists are held tighter to stop them slipping free, and he speeds up a little, staring down into her eyes with an intense blue gaze.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject