[She looks glorious like this, rising over him, even with her grey leggings clinging to her hips, the sun from the shuttered window filtering in just enough to set her hair aglow like a fiery halo, her normally cool and pale body warmed by the dying light from the sun, making her seem even more alive than usual.
He breathes out her name like a quiet prayer as she leans down to kiss him, opening up easily to her, his hands roaming idly at her hips, petting her thighs and her waist alike until he suddenly realizes there's nothing but cool skin beneath his hands.]
Annie. [He pulls back enough to blink up at her, a smile curling his lips as he watches her. Of course, he wouldn't be Mitchell if he didn't ruin the moment somewhat.] This all for me, then?
[ She'd almost hesitated changing anything about that moment when he whispered her name like he did. As it is, it made her relax above him even more, made her want to do whatever it took to even the playing field, to make him feel good. He was so warm beneath her, compared to anything else that touched her skin. She can't help but touch, her fingers sliding down his neck to his chest, fingertips ghosting over his skin so that she will not chill it more than she already has to.
It is then that she takes that last step and it's then that Mitchell has to pipe in with some commentary, her brow furrowing a bit even her words are a bit of a tease.] 'All this'? I hope you're not calling me fat, Mitchell.
Just more of you to love, darlin'. [He's obviously joking, as only a blind man would think to call Annie fat, but sadly, Mitchell wouldn't be himself if he didn't ruin every meaningful moment somehow, even if he did do it with the best intentions.]
You're gorgeous, Annie, god. [He presses his lips to her shoulder, an open-mouthed kiss with the hint of teeth, though his fangs remain securely tucked away where they should be, thankfully.]
[ She's about to give him a proper shove of the shoulder when he teases her but then he says what he does next, her eyes fluttering at the compliment as much as they do when he kisses her shoulder.
A shiver runs up her spine at the sensation, at the warmth of his mouth and the hint of teeth. It's a little dangerous, enjoying the way that feels, she shouldn't encourage it even if she isn't in danger of being drained of life.
Settling more in his lap, she pulls him up properly, pressing their torsos flush with one another.] You feel rather lovely, like this.
You can feel me, then? [He's never been sure just how much Annie can feel, how much of it is her remembering what things feel like and how much is her feeling them here and now.
He doesn't want to think about her remembering how this feels, because then she's thinking of that bastard who murdered her, and thinking about Owen makes Mitchell see red. Regardless of the fact that him murdering Annie has made it possible for them to have some sort of a real relationship. That doesn't bear thinking about.
He slides his hands up her spine, free for once of his olive green gloves, his fingers trailing along the wing of her shoulder blades and tangling in the ends of her hair.]
Yes, [ Although she is not entirely sure how much of it is actually him and how much of it is sense memory. He cannot possibly feel the same as Owen. And she doesn't want to equate Mitchell with him in any possible way. She figures it is better to say yes than to have herself and Mitchell thinking of the one who put her here.
Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, her eyes meeting with his as his hands slide up her body.] And I feel... How you feel. [ Or rather, how she makes him feel. She supposes that's a bit like cheating at a game, but she wants to know even if she isn't thrilled how she doesn't feel very warm compared to how he makes her feel beyond warm.]
[If she can feel how she makes him feel, then surely she can tell how much he likes the feel of her cool skin beneath his hands. It's one more reminder that she's not like the other girls he's lured into bed to drain dry, one more reminder that he can't do that to her even if he wanted to.
And he doesn't want to. The thought of Annie lying across his bed, broken and drained, her eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, makes him feel sick to his stomach.
He ducks his head to lick at the hollow of her throat, his hand passing over the swell of her bum, his fingers dimpling her cool skin as he hauls her a little bit closer.] Can you feel that?
Yes, [ She lets out one of those laughs of her, the ones she does when she's nervous even if she's feeling perfectly content in his lap. It's that absurd and giddy sort of laugh that spills so easily from her lips before she arches into him. Yes, she can definitely feel that. ] Oh yes.
[ Her skin tingles where his tongue had just been, actually, it tingles just about everywhere now. And one hand moves to curl into his hair, her hips rocking tentatively above his, trying to coax a reaction from him this time.]
[She's definitely getting a reaction from him now. It may just be the knowledge that she's enjoying herself, it may be the fact that he's got all that soft skin pressed up against his, he doesn't know for sure, but there is certainly something happening downstairs, if you catch his drift.
It probably helps that he's apparently been given carte blanche when it comes to touching, so touch he will, nibbling along her shoulder as he runs his fingers along the inside of her thighs, light enough to tease, light enough to make sure she's okay with him touching her so, so close to where he wants to go.]
[ She can feel just what's happening 'downstairs', their bodies wedged close enough together that it'd be hard not to, as it were. Humming softly, one hand stays on his shoulder for balance as his hands slides between their bodies to slide over the smooth expanse of her thighs. Her eyes flutter a little as she lets out a breath against his hair, his mouth sliding over her skin.
She actually feels something then, a pulse of pleasure, a new sensation she has felt with anyone before, especially not Owen, earning him soft sound of surprise, trailing off into a pleased sort of hum.]
[He's just going to assume that little noise, quickly swallowed, was a good one, for Annie makes no move to push out of his arms, and he likes to think that she'd be comfortable enough with him to be able to tell him no without being afraid to cross him. She's certainly crossed him enough in the past without it being a problem, hopefully that holds true here, too.
He strokes his fingertips along the outside of her thigh, tracing her skin where a pair of shorts might hit, his fingers meandering gently as they work their way from front to back, allowing him to trail up again without getting in the way of feeling her body pressed flat up against his.
They linger right where her thigh meets her bum, tracing that gentle crease, not daring to push ahead further without any sort of agreement from her.] Alright?
[ Annie has never held issue with telling Mitchell exactly what she thinks, how she thinks it, or when. And yes, it holds true here, even in this intimate moment. She doesn't stop him because she doesn't want him to. When he stops himself, just short of really touching her, she actually feels a little frustration and impatience, radiating enough of it, that he just might feel it too.]
Yes, [ she murmurs against his temple as his face presses against her shoulder. She lets her fingers curl a bit more in his hair, her voice soft, asking how he feels even if she can easily find the answer herself. She wants to hear him say it.] And you?
[He grins, huffing out a little breath, and nods against her shoulder.] Yeah. [Yeah, Mitchell is great, thanks, he feels absolutely amazing right now. He's forgotten how strange it is for her to be so cold against him, almost like he's never known any different, and the itch to touch her is overwhelming. Luckily, she doesn't make him wait any longer, and so he allows those questing fingers to slide forward until he finds her slit, her skin cold and slick to the touch.
It makes him laugh quietly, incredulous, and he presses another kiss to her shoulder as he strokes her carefully, feeling like he's dipped his fingers in a spring or something pure and cool, far from unpleasant but definitely not what he expected.] Still okay?
[Her hips quirk instinctively when he finally touches her, fingers sliding between her quivering thighs, her eyes falling shut with a soft, little moan. His touch is careful, slow and deliberate, and just as she's starting to fall into it, he asks after her.] Mitchell--[ she gasps softly against his hair, her eyes fluttering open for a moment as she tries not to sound annoyed, her voice somehow both firm and gentle at the same time. ] You needn't ask me all the time. [ Even if she loves him for it, adores the way he cares to ask. Owen never asked after how she was feeling. Unfortunately it was mostly a bunch of pumping then he was snoring or slinking out of the house.] I trust you.
I just want to make sure you're okay. [He can't help himself; he's not as different from Owen as she might like to make him be, as much as it pains him to admit it. For most of his life, Mitchell would find a girl (or two) to take home, give her a little kiss, maybe fuck her before biting her, drink her dry as she cried and pushed ineffectually at him, then left her on the floor like a discarded chocolate bar wrapper. He's trying to make up for all his past sins with Annie, trying to take his time and treat her like she's precious.
Because she is. She's precious to him.
But still, now that she's told him to get on with it, he does set to it without any more interruptions, stroking her a few more times before he shifts his hand to slide a finger into her, muffling a quiet groan against her shoulder at the feel of her slick, cold skin. He licks at her neck, mouthing her skin, sucking what would be a hickey on anyone else as he fingers her slowly, twisting his wrist so he can brush his thumb over her clit, ignoring the twinge in his wrist for the way it makes her clamp around him.
And for all that he agreed he'd stop asking, he pulls away enough to murmur anyway,] I'll give you two now, 'kay? [And does just that, pulling his hand free before sliding two fingers in where there had only been one, pressing them as deep into her as he can and sighing into the crook of her neck.]
[ She never dreamed that this was even possible. She honestly had resigned herself to a sexless relationship with Mitchell, that perhaps she'd find a way to get him off but that she wouldn't experience any sort of physical pleasure herself. And yet, here she is, in his lap with his fingers inside of her, coaxing heat through her chilled body in a way she hasn't felt in ages.
It's like basking in the sun, the way it warms her, although this warms her from the inside out, not that Mitchell can feel any of that, despite the groan that spills out against her skin.
He takes pleasure in touching her, she can feel that much, pressed against him, at the way he so eagerly moves his mouth over her skin. Her eyes fall shut with a soft moan, just against his ear when his thumb finds that bundle of nerves, so rarely touched.
She can't help the shift of her hips, the way she rocks into his hand and when he offers her another finger, she nods, eagerly, distractedly.] Yes, [ she hums against his ear, moaning again when he slides them inside of her, make her squirm against her.] God, yeah, Mitchell...
[It does please him to touch her, to feel her shift and moan against him, to know that he's the reason her hips are rocking like that against him, that it's his touch that's brought that breathlessness to her.
He curls his fingers inside her, stroking her soft flesh, and lifts his chin, seeking for a kiss, needing something but not quite knowing what it is he needs from her. His eyes have gone black now, properly black, but he doesn't seem to notice, and as of yet his teeth haven't started to sharpen. Hopefully he'll be able to keep it together for a little while longer.]
[ She can't see his eyes with her own being closed, although they do flutter open for a second when she feels his lips seeking hers out. It's a flash of black that she sees but she's distracted enough not to think too much of it, yet.
Her mouth yields to his for a moment before she kisses him a bit harder, her arm wrapping around his neck, urging him closer, rocking her hips into his fingers instinctively, greedily. Now that she can feel it, now that she knows she can.
She whispers his name against his lips, her own curving a bit into a smile.]
[God, hearing her breathe his name against his lips sends a fire roaring through him, need singing through his veins and pricking at his gums in a way he can't ignore, not with the way she wraps herself around him and pulls herself closer.
He wraps his free arm tightly around her waist in return, holding her close as he rocks his hand between her legs, curling and stroking his fingers the way he knows is virtually guaranteed to work, pressing his tongue to his teeth to keep himself from leaning in and biting down on soft, tempting flesh.
He knows Annie's dead. There's no blood coursing through her veins. And yet...
And yet there's something inside him that whispers that all he needs to get that sweet, hot blood is to lean forward and bite down, that the only thing between him and the sweet release of the gnawing pain he manages every day is the thin skin of her pretty little neck. That if he just gives in, just this once, he'll feel so much better. That the clawing need that eats away at his nerves every minute of every day will finally be sated and he'll be able to relax, content and full.
The heavy sweetness of his own blood is cloying as it slides down his throat, too thick and too dark. Not what he wants. Not what he needs. Trembling, he bites down harder on his tongue, forcing himself to turn his head away from her, to tuck it against her shoulder so she can't see his face and the war he's fighting within himself.
[ Annie is lost enough, for a moment, that she doesn't notice his struggle. She feels the tension in his body but she selfishly chalks it up to the strain of pleasuring her, or maybe the need for more. She wants more too, if it's even possible. Given what they're doing now, she thinks it might be. And it excites her, it builds on the heat the grows within her, now at a rapid pace.
Panting softly against his ear as he turns his head away from her lips, she has a fleeting, worried thought that he's turned his head away for the wrong reasons, for something bad. But she's too consumed, suddenly, by her impending release that she doesn't dwell on the thought. Instead, she gasps his name again before she comes undone, her whole body going tense, tightening around his, a soft sound escaping her lips as she buries her face against his shoulder as heat and pleasure overtakes her for the first time in what might be years.]
[He can feel her tensing, knows she's close, and sure enough, it's only a few rocks of her hips later that she's stilling in his arms, clutching him to her before she trembles and lets out that wondering little moan.
Feeling her body flutter around his fingers, the strength in her arms as she clutches at him, the exhalation of air that washes over his shoulder when she tucks her face in against him, it's all too much. He grits his teeth, practically biting his tongue in half, it feels like, and fights down a whimper as he swallows all the blood that's pooled in his mouth, tries to get rid of the evidence before she recovers enough to see what he looks like.
In order to give himself a little more time, he keeps rocking his fingers in and out of her, coaxing her orgasm to last as long as he can so that by the time her eyes clear his tongue will have healed from the way he's shredded it and the only hint at his internal struggle will be the tightness around his eyes.
[ It's a dirty trick, one she'd likely be pretty cross to know about later on. It works, for a time, the way he coaxes on her pleasure, draws it out, keeping her body trembling around his a few more seconds than it normally would. Gasping softly, her eyes flutter some as she presses her lips to his skin, pressing grateful kisses to his shoulder, humming with contentment, completely unaware of what storm brews within him.
At least for a moment, until her senses start to come back to her, she feels the continued tension of his body, although she might be able to tie that to arousal, considering what she feels of his cock, pressing against her thigh. Pressing a few more kisses to his shoulder and neck, she tries to find her way towards his mouth for a kiss.] Mitchell, that was... [ She lets out a laugh, her eyes moving towards his face--] Brilliant. [ Her smile falters just a little as she looks at him, the contentment she feels fading when she senses something's wrong.] Are you alright? [ Now's the time to lie, Mitchell.]
[Luckily for them both — or perhaps not, as the case may be — Mitchell is a consummate liar. It only takes him another swallow and a lick across his teeth before he's able to grin at her, pushing away all the warring he's done, all the pain he's suffered through, everything, so that he can focus on the pride of being able to make her tremble like that in his arms.]
Of course I am. [He leans in and presses a little kiss to the tender underside of her jaw, both to prove to himself that he can without wanting to bite her, and also to prevent her from potentially tasting blood on his lips.
He rocks his hands idly, as smug as can be, the very picture of a bloke about to get lucky and so very pleased with himself because of it.] See, I told you it'd work. [Whether he did or not is irrelevant.]
[ She believes his lie, she foolishly believes his lie, as she has in the past, and would in the future, until her trust was truly broken. As it is, his smile charms her into believing him, her own smile is one of relief then bliss, joy, contentment. Her eyes meet with his after he presses a few kisses to the underside of her jaw, her hands lifting to tilt his face towards hers, pressing her forehead to his for a moment.] I should have never doubted, [ she murmurs the words just barely before her breath hitches at the way his fingers continue to rock within her.
She reaches between them to pull his hand away, arching her body forward into his, inviting him to take what he wants now. Suddenly, the awkward seductress who is utter rubbish at dirty talk, means to seduce the hell out of him and successfully so.] I reckon we ought to see what else works...
[For a moment, a foolish moment, Mitchell allows himself to think that this will be it. They'll curl up together and snuggle for a little while, and Annie will do that dozing-thing she does instead of proper sleep, and he'll be able to walk away from this moment without hurting her.
But then she continues, and his heart sinks. For a moment, he thinks about telling her no, telling her he's not in the mood, or he just flat doesn't like fucking, but that would be a lie on both counts, and it's so important to her that their relationship be just as normal as any other one... He's gathered that sex was an important part of her and Owen, in that Owen insisted on it, and Annie felt that she was letting him down if she didn't live up to whatever nymphette role she was supposed to fulfill.
He hasn't the heart to hurt her by turning her away.
So instead he grinds down the small part of himself that's crying out for him to put a stop to this, slams a lid on it and locks the door, turning a wicked smirk to her as she reaches between them and murmurs so seductively to him.] I can think of something else we could try...
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He breathes out her name like a quiet prayer as she leans down to kiss him, opening up easily to her, his hands roaming idly at her hips, petting her thighs and her waist alike until he suddenly realizes there's nothing but cool skin beneath his hands.]
Annie. [He pulls back enough to blink up at her, a smile curling his lips as he watches her. Of course, he wouldn't be Mitchell if he didn't ruin the moment somewhat.] This all for me, then?
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It is then that she takes that last step and it's then that Mitchell has to pipe in with some commentary, her brow furrowing a bit even her words are a bit of a tease.] 'All this'? I hope you're not calling me fat, Mitchell.
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You're gorgeous, Annie, god. [He presses his lips to her shoulder, an open-mouthed kiss with the hint of teeth, though his fangs remain securely tucked away where they should be, thankfully.]
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A shiver runs up her spine at the sensation, at the warmth of his mouth and the hint of teeth. It's a little dangerous, enjoying the way that feels, she shouldn't encourage it even if she isn't in danger of being drained of life.
Settling more in his lap, she pulls him up properly, pressing their torsos flush with one another.] You feel rather lovely, like this.
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He doesn't want to think about her remembering how this feels, because then she's thinking of that bastard who murdered her, and thinking about Owen makes Mitchell see red. Regardless of the fact that him murdering Annie has made it possible for them to have some sort of a real relationship. That doesn't bear thinking about.
He slides his hands up her spine, free for once of his olive green gloves, his fingers trailing along the wing of her shoulder blades and tangling in the ends of her hair.]
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Her hands move to rest on his shoulders, her eyes meeting with his as his hands slide up her body.] And I feel... How you feel. [ Or rather, how she makes him feel. She supposes that's a bit like cheating at a game, but she wants to know even if she isn't thrilled how she doesn't feel very warm compared to how he makes her feel beyond warm.]
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And he doesn't want to. The thought of Annie lying across his bed, broken and drained, her eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, makes him feel sick to his stomach.
He ducks his head to lick at the hollow of her throat, his hand passing over the swell of her bum, his fingers dimpling her cool skin as he hauls her a little bit closer.] Can you feel that?
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[ Her skin tingles where his tongue had just been, actually, it tingles just about everywhere now. And one hand moves to curl into his hair, her hips rocking tentatively above his, trying to coax a reaction from him this time.]
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It probably helps that he's apparently been given carte blanche when it comes to touching, so touch he will, nibbling along her shoulder as he runs his fingers along the inside of her thighs, light enough to tease, light enough to make sure she's okay with him touching her so, so close to where he wants to go.]
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She actually feels something then, a pulse of pleasure, a new sensation she has felt with anyone before, especially not Owen, earning him soft sound of surprise, trailing off into a pleased sort of hum.]
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He strokes his fingertips along the outside of her thigh, tracing her skin where a pair of shorts might hit, his fingers meandering gently as they work their way from front to back, allowing him to trail up again without getting in the way of feeling her body pressed flat up against his.
They linger right where her thigh meets her bum, tracing that gentle crease, not daring to push ahead further without any sort of agreement from her.] Alright?
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Yes, [ she murmurs against his temple as his face presses against her shoulder. She lets her fingers curl a bit more in his hair, her voice soft, asking how he feels even if she can easily find the answer herself. She wants to hear him say it.] And you?
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It makes him laugh quietly, incredulous, and he presses another kiss to her shoulder as he strokes her carefully, feeling like he's dipped his fingers in a spring or something pure and cool, far from unpleasant but definitely not what he expected.] Still okay?
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Because she is. She's precious to him.
But still, now that she's told him to get on with it, he does set to it without any more interruptions, stroking her a few more times before he shifts his hand to slide a finger into her, muffling a quiet groan against her shoulder at the feel of her slick, cold skin. He licks at her neck, mouthing her skin, sucking what would be a hickey on anyone else as he fingers her slowly, twisting his wrist so he can brush his thumb over her clit, ignoring the twinge in his wrist for the way it makes her clamp around him.
And for all that he agreed he'd stop asking, he pulls away enough to murmur anyway,] I'll give you two now, 'kay? [And does just that, pulling his hand free before sliding two fingers in where there had only been one, pressing them as deep into her as he can and sighing into the crook of her neck.]
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It's like basking in the sun, the way it warms her, although this warms her from the inside out, not that Mitchell can feel any of that, despite the groan that spills out against her skin.
He takes pleasure in touching her, she can feel that much, pressed against him, at the way he so eagerly moves his mouth over her skin. Her eyes fall shut with a soft moan, just against his ear when his thumb finds that bundle of nerves, so rarely touched.
She can't help the shift of her hips, the way she rocks into his hand and when he offers her another finger, she nods, eagerly, distractedly.] Yes, [ she hums against his ear, moaning again when he slides them inside of her, make her squirm against her.] God, yeah, Mitchell...
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He curls his fingers inside her, stroking her soft flesh, and lifts his chin, seeking for a kiss, needing something but not quite knowing what it is he needs from her. His eyes have gone black now, properly black, but he doesn't seem to notice, and as of yet his teeth haven't started to sharpen. Hopefully he'll be able to keep it together for a little while longer.]
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Her mouth yields to his for a moment before she kisses him a bit harder, her arm wrapping around his neck, urging him closer, rocking her hips into his fingers instinctively, greedily. Now that she can feel it, now that she knows she can.
She whispers his name against his lips, her own curving a bit into a smile.]
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He wraps his free arm tightly around her waist in return, holding her close as he rocks his hand between her legs, curling and stroking his fingers the way he knows is virtually guaranteed to work, pressing his tongue to his teeth to keep himself from leaning in and biting down on soft, tempting flesh.
He knows Annie's dead. There's no blood coursing through her veins. And yet...
And yet there's something inside him that whispers that all he needs to get that sweet, hot blood is to lean forward and bite down, that the only thing between him and the sweet release of the gnawing pain he manages every day is the thin skin of her pretty little neck. That if he just gives in, just this once, he'll feel so much better. That the clawing need that eats away at his nerves every minute of every day will finally be sated and he'll be able to relax, content and full.
The heavy sweetness of his own blood is cloying as it slides down his throat, too thick and too dark. Not what he wants. Not what he needs. Trembling, he bites down harder on his tongue, forcing himself to turn his head away from her, to tuck it against her shoulder so she can't see his face and the war he's fighting within himself.
He can do this. He can hold it together for her.]
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Panting softly against his ear as he turns his head away from her lips, she has a fleeting, worried thought that he's turned his head away for the wrong reasons, for something bad. But she's too consumed, suddenly, by her impending release that she doesn't dwell on the thought. Instead, she gasps his name again before she comes undone, her whole body going tense, tightening around his, a soft sound escaping her lips as she buries her face against his shoulder as heat and pleasure overtakes her for the first time in what might be years.]
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Feeling her body flutter around his fingers, the strength in her arms as she clutches at him, the exhalation of air that washes over his shoulder when she tucks her face in against him, it's all too much. He grits his teeth, practically biting his tongue in half, it feels like, and fights down a whimper as he swallows all the blood that's pooled in his mouth, tries to get rid of the evidence before she recovers enough to see what he looks like.
In order to give himself a little more time, he keeps rocking his fingers in and out of her, coaxing her orgasm to last as long as he can so that by the time her eyes clear his tongue will have healed from the way he's shredded it and the only hint at his internal struggle will be the tightness around his eyes.
At least his cock is hard.]
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At least for a moment, until her senses start to come back to her, she feels the continued tension of his body, although she might be able to tie that to arousal, considering what she feels of his cock, pressing against her thigh. Pressing a few more kisses to his shoulder and neck, she tries to find her way towards his mouth for a kiss.] Mitchell, that was... [ She lets out a laugh, her eyes moving towards his face--] Brilliant. [ Her smile falters just a little as she looks at him, the contentment she feels fading when she senses something's wrong.] Are you alright? [ Now's the time to lie, Mitchell.]
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Of course I am. [He leans in and presses a little kiss to the tender underside of her jaw, both to prove to himself that he can without wanting to bite her, and also to prevent her from potentially tasting blood on his lips.
He rocks his hands idly, as smug as can be, the very picture of a bloke about to get lucky and so very pleased with himself because of it.] See, I told you it'd work. [Whether he did or not is irrelevant.]
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She reaches between them to pull his hand away, arching her body forward into his, inviting him to take what he wants now. Suddenly, the awkward seductress who is utter rubbish at dirty talk, means to seduce the hell out of him and successfully so.] I reckon we ought to see what else works...
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But then she continues, and his heart sinks. For a moment, he thinks about telling her no, telling her he's not in the mood, or he just flat doesn't like fucking, but that would be a lie on both counts, and it's so important to her that their relationship be just as normal as any other one... He's gathered that sex was an important part of her and Owen, in that Owen insisted on it, and Annie felt that she was letting him down if she didn't live up to whatever nymphette role she was supposed to fulfill.
He hasn't the heart to hurt her by turning her away.
So instead he grinds down the small part of himself that's crying out for him to put a stop to this, slams a lid on it and locks the door, turning a wicked smirk to her as she reaches between them and murmurs so seductively to him.] I can think of something else we could try...
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