[There she is. Which is to say: she's been here the whole time, of course, but this is really the distillation of his Jeanne, demanding and overwhelming and needy. Somehow she always manages to be everywhere at once, to him, her mouth and hands and hips claiming all of his attention and more.]
[She might not make a sound, but he does. He grunts against her lips, tilts his head and meets her halfway and then some, his lips parted, kissing commanding and filthy. His hand slides up her thigh, pushing her skirt up all the way; his fingers drift up the back of her thigh, deliberately too light and teasing, as he traces the hem of her underwear.]
Did you set me up, Jeanne?
[It's barely audible. His voice goes nearly subsonic when he needs her badly, more felt than heard. He meets every roll of her hips with his own, maybe a little rougher than he needs to be, but he doesn't think she'll mind. His other hand slides under her shirt, along her stomach and up her side. He'd bite marks on her if there wasn't such urgency to this.]
no subject
[She might not make a sound, but he does. He grunts against her lips, tilts his head and meets her halfway and then some, his lips parted, kissing commanding and filthy. His hand slides up her thigh, pushing her skirt up all the way; his fingers drift up the back of her thigh, deliberately too light and teasing, as he traces the hem of her underwear.]
Did you set me up, Jeanne?
[It's barely audible. His voice goes nearly subsonic when he needs her badly, more felt than heard. He meets every roll of her hips with his own, maybe a little rougher than he needs to be, but he doesn't think she'll mind. His other hand slides under her shirt, along her stomach and up her side. He'd bite marks on her if there wasn't such urgency to this.]
Did you plan this, hm?