[ Oh. on his side is good, less reaching up. The hand around his neck stays there, while the other fiiiiiiinally goes back to undoing the closure of his shirt. She smiles against his lips, eyes shut tightly. ]
[ less talking is less thinking is more feeling. Mouth moving down Aeron's shoulder, nipping, biting hard enough to leave marks half-visible against ink, down to where skin blends into rooted vines-- his hips twitch at the contact, legs shifting apart just a little more ]
[Spider doesn't tense this time when her hands go to his clothes, and he can't quite slide like he used to with those vines, not as tight, but he can separate the bad limbs from the better and use what's safe, moving in little pulses against the mounds and folds they find. He murmurs softly]
[ Her legs shift around him to allow his touch in- so few! how careful he is with them!- as her fingers work at his shirt until she can gently tug it open. Fingertips run their back along the length of his chest. She says something back to him, but it's lost in mumbles as she keeps her lips pressed to his face. ]
[ Presses his hips forward, presses against those vines-- a shiver runs through him, one that Aeron can no doubt feel over his back. Metal fingers (warm, more than warm enough by now, between them) slide up the nape of Aeron's neck, sweep matted hair away so Chrys can leave the marks of his teeth there, too. His good hand moves down, drags fingertips over the plane of Aeron's belly, feels for the edge of his pants. Slipping beneath the layers of fabric, to grasp and hold, lightly, ever so lightly. ]
[he murmurs more, presses his back tight against Chrys' chest in needy, rocking motions. His vines slip and curl wher ehtey are, pushing under cloth where it's found, rubbing over it and under it. Coils and strokes for Chrys along with the rock of his body, and mall, hard little motions for Aerta, with fingertips circling and slipping in and out of her.]
[ She tilts her fingertips bringing her nails to his skin, but not hard- just light scratches against his chest, then up across his shoulders and neck. she can't touch enough of him ]
Too gentle- that's much too gentle . . . mm, don't be cruel, brother- . . .
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devotedtothecore) wrote2011-08-18 08:23 am
Re: 114 noonish
Re: 114 noonish
Hh...
Re: 114 noonish
More...
Re: 114 noonish
Re: 114 noonish
Re: 114 noonish
[he murmurs more, presses his back tight against Chrys' chest in needy, rocking motions. His vines slip and curl wher ehtey are, pushing under cloth where it's found, rubbing over it and under it. Coils and strokes for Chrys along with the rock of his body, and mall, hard little motions for Aerta, with fingertips circling and slipping in and out of her.]
Re: 114 noonish
Too gentle- that's much too gentle . . . mm, don't be cruel, brother- . . .