[ Hana has had some time to think about Shiro's arm since that last mission they went on together. She doesn't know if she ever found it revolting, maybe a little scary, but all she knows is that it's as much a part of him as the patch of white hair on his head and each and every single scar on his body. She hates that the universe was so cruel to him. But she loves the man that it's made him into. Wounded, but strong, lionhearted, kind, selfless Shiro.
She's nearly throbbing, aching for his touch on her and it's a damn wonder that she manages to stay still enough for him to be able to run his metal fingers along her when all she wants is to writhe and move against him and feel him more and more. Any notion of self-control has clearly gone out the window and thrown to another galaxy altogether when he starts working at her clit.
They should really take it slow but--
God, this feels so good. Which is just another thing that Hana doesn't say quite so much in words but in the way another whimper of sorts is drawn out of her and into their kiss just as he's giving his own groan. And that-- that right there, sparks something in Hana, too. Fiercely competitive Hana who decides, even as she's pulling her lips from his to moan once more as his hard, metal fingers trace along her wet folds, that he can't be having all the fun.
It's with a bit of fumbling, perhaps more clumsily that she might intend even though she's quite distracted, that she pulls her other hand from his hair and trails it down his body once more, over his chest and then over ridges of muscle, until she reaches the waistband of his boxer briefs, where her touch lingers for a moment as she looks intently into his dark eyes, before it keeps going above the thin fabric, searching, then running her fingers along the length of him. ]
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She's nearly throbbing, aching for his touch on her and it's a damn wonder that she manages to stay still enough for him to be able to run his metal fingers along her when all she wants is to writhe and move against him and feel him more and more. Any notion of self-control has clearly gone out the window and thrown to another galaxy altogether when he starts working at her clit.
They should really take it slow but--
God, this feels so good. Which is just another thing that Hana doesn't say quite so much in words but in the way another whimper of sorts is drawn out of her and into their kiss just as he's giving his own groan. And that-- that right there, sparks something in Hana, too. Fiercely competitive Hana who decides, even as she's pulling her lips from his to moan once more as his hard, metal fingers trace along her wet folds, that he can't be having all the fun.
It's with a bit of fumbling, perhaps more clumsily that she might intend even though she's quite distracted, that she pulls her other hand from his hair and trails it down his body once more, over his chest and then over ridges of muscle, until she reaches the waistband of his boxer briefs, where her touch lingers for a moment as she looks intently into his dark eyes, before it keeps going above the thin fabric, searching, then running her fingers along the length of him. ]