THE KISSING BOOTH MEME

[ruinousstrength]

THE KISSING BOOTH MEME

Easy-peasy; post your character & tag to others. congrats! One of your characters have the unfortunate task of working a kissing booth. now KISS. or don't, whatevs.

 

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[ladycrusader]

[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.]

[seventyeight]

[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?

[ladycrusader]

[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.]

[seventyeight]

[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.

[ladycrusader]

[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.]