bakerstreet | THE KISSING BOOTH MEME

[Are you sure, he says, and just like that she has something to prove. They're both too competitive for their own good, and it gets even worse in times like these. She'd been perfectly content before to let him know how much she wanted him, but not now. Now she twists her hand, listening intently for the catch in his breath. If she's desperate, he'll be as well. Her hips jerk forward, pushing pointedly against his fingers. Almost, and it's so hard not to just beg him for it.]

Don't tease.

[She drops her head back, eyes closing. She doesn't have to control her expression, not right now, and so doesn't bother.]

[Her grip shifts, her hand moving roughly, and his breath catches, enough so that he has to break off the kiss and lean his forehead against hers. She's got that look on her face like she's got to beat him now, and he can never cope with that terribly well.]

[He licks his lips, exhales.]

Mm. All right.

[So, maybe he won't. He leans in to kiss her again at the same time he slides two fingers inside her, quick enough that there's less than a breath between his initial movement and his fingers crooking. His cock jumps a little in her grip, feeling her even at this remove. Even like this, she's something else.]

Christ--

[She hisses that out against his mouth, a shudder running through her. Her hand stutters and stills on his cock. It's cruel, but it isn't meant that way; it's just that she can only focus on so many things, and right now Abdul's fingers overwhelm her. He doesn't have to bother with anything else, really; she's fallen apart from just his fingers too many times.]

Keep--

[A distracted order, given as she spreads her legs a little wider. She starts stroking again, a little more urgency in her movements. He's more than ready to take her, but Jeanne doesn't say that. Desperate, the word rings in her ears, so she'll let him be the one so eager to get to the main event.]

[He's more than ready to take her. And yet here he is, pushed up against her in the dim light, lips patted and panting and knuckles-deep in her.]

You're too beautiful, you know. [His voice comes out like gravel as he cants his hips into her hand.] You're too beautiful, so I'd do anything you told me to.

[This isn't anything she doesn't already know. It's something he has to say anyway, though; he's as compelled to do that as he is to fuck his fingers into her, to circle her clit with his thumb and watch to see what it does to her.]

Tell me what to do, albi.

[She can't say anything for a few seconds, too busy biting back a moan. Unfair, he's so unfair, every inch of him; all he says are a few words and she's more in love than ever.]

Fuck me.

[So she'll lose. She'll be desperate. It doesn't feel like losing, not with him, not when he's working her well enough that her legs are shaking. And if she's going to lose, she might as well do it spectacularly, so:]

Now. It's all I've been thinking about since I sat in your lap, since I saw you'd been kissed by someone else-- you taking me up against this wall, fucking me til I can't think . . . that's what I want.

[God, it's so obviously a victory but only halfway his. He loves her begging, but this isn't begging. This is commanding, her body so tense and desperate that he just wants to make it better. Or worse. Maybe both.]

I already can't think.

[Said with breathlessly dry good humor as he pulls out of her. He doesn't want to, really. He wants to work her until she tightens and comes around his fingers, but, he tells himself, he can probably do that later. Besides which, he promised.]

[It's not much effort at all to lift her up properly. His hands under her thighs, then coaxing her without words to wrap her legs around him. There's no stopping, then; she said now, and as soon as she's secure he meets her eyes and guides himself inside her until he's pressed as tight against her as he can be, his fingers digging helplessly into her hip.]

[It's good. That's not the right word for it, not at all, but it's the simplest, and right now she can only think in simple terms. Spectacular. Fantastic. Precisely what she wants, and Jeanne's head drops back against the wall, mouth dropping open, her gaze never leaving his as he presses into her. Hell. He's going to leave bruises on her hips, but she likes that; she likes anything that claims her to him.]

That's perfect.

[Breathed out. She squirms and tightens around him, teasing as best she can. Her hands rest on his shoulders, the fingers of her left wrapping tight round the back of his neck.]

Now don't stop.

Fuck--

[She shouldn't be allowed to be like this. She's too much, too tight, and he is a lot of things but he's only a mortal man, for god's sake.]

[He's helpless and breathless for a moment, staring at her with his lips parted. And then he's moving like if he doesn't the world might end, kissing her with hunger and undisguised need as he fucks her mercilessly fast. He doesn't think he's ever needed her this badly, but he always thinks that until the next time he does.]

[There's no holding back, not now: moans and whimpers and whines, loud and unashamed, panted into his mouth as they kiss. He's utterly overwhelming, relentless in his movements, sending a shot of lightning through her at each thrust. She doesn't bother touching herself, not like this; just sinks her nails into his shoulders, her hips moving in time with each of his thrusts.

She struggles to keep her eyes open, because he's a sight worth watching. He's always a sight worth seeing, but especially like this, his eyes hot and his expression so intent.]

Please--

[Please nothing, really; she pants the word out just so he can hear her say it. Please, just like that, except she feels like she's going to explode if he keeps this pace up.]

[If someone were to turn the corner and spot them now, it'd be a sight. He's no longer aware of his own movements except that they've got to continue; she moves to meet him every time, and so he moves in turn, and so she does again. They move together, seamless and breathless, and these are the moments, too, when he forgets what the world sounds like without her whimpers echoing in his ears.]

[He wants to touch her more. He wants to touch her everywhere, but he's so caught up in the rhythm and the heat of her and her please. Her nails clawing at his shoulders leave him shuddering and groaning, hiking her up a little further so he can move at a better angle.]

Like that?

[Yes, if the suddenly shout she gives is any indication. Immediately Jeanne shoves a hand over her mouth, muffling herself-- there's being unashamed and then there's being obvious, and she has no intention of being caught.

God, it's hard, though. She's growing louder by the second, and her hand can't muffle everything. True, she can't finish like this, she's never been able to, but that doesn't matter. She loves this part too, and each thrust has her crying out, heat pooling in the center of her stomach. Please, she manages again, the French slipping out from between her fingers, please just like that please, babbling and growing nonsensical.]

Edited 2016-08-23 06:28 (UTC)

[God. She's loud, she's so loud. He should probably encourage her to be quieter, but he can't. She yelps, and he snaps his hips up automatically, trying to draw it out of her again. It's a good sound. He wants a million more like it.]

[He wants more, too. He wants to see her expression shatter entirely. He wants to feel her nails deeper in his shoulders, wants her squirming desperately against him. But he doesn't want this to stop, not when she's so desperate.]

[He doesn't feel careful. But he's as careful as he can be anyway, one hand taking her weight as the other slides between them, fingers splayed against her thigh as his thumb circles her clit. He can't even kiss her now, that's one too many things to coordinate and he's too focused on moving and the heat spiking through him.]

Love you.

[It's too much. It's too much, and she doesn't dare pull her hand away from her mouth, not when every nerve feels white-hot and she's shaking against him. The noises she makes are no less obscene for being muffled: Jeanne drags out her moans, mewling them out as he fucks her. God, and he keeps fucking her so hard, leaving her dizzy and breathless.

It doesn't occur to her to be worried about being dropped, not with him. He's a million things, responsible and clever and careful and loving; he wouldn't hold her like this unless he thought he could do it securely. Her back scrapes against the wall again and again; she's going to look a mess by the time they're through. That's all right. She likes looking a mess for him.]

THE KISSING BOOTH MEME

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