"Yeah," she agrees, laughing breathlessly at the way he says it. Fuck doesn't quite sound natural in his mouth--not like he swears a lot, anyway--but it's cute. And the feeling's mutual. Every time he touches her breasts, fingers or tongue, the feeling moves straight down her body in a neon-bright wave, bypassing everything in her on the way to her clit.
There's nothing else to say, and frankly, she's not sure she could speak around the fluttery sensation of his hands and mouth on her and his erection under her. She uncurls her fingers under his jeans, the backs of them brushing down against his length. It's teasing, and she knows it, but the idea of rummaging around in his pants for him seems kind of crass to her--and she still wants to touch him. They really need to get those jeans off, for both their sakes.
Her other hand, she drags down from his hair--she's pretty sure with the way he's got her in his mouth, she's going to be in danger of ripping some of his hair out otherwise, God--raking her nails over his neck on the way down. She ends up near his heart again, this time with her thumb working lightly at his own small nipple.
It's a strange mix of comfortable and unbearable, her shallow breath punctuated by little groans when everything aligns in just the right way. Everything's good, but she wants so much more.
"I--yeah. Me, too." The words come out a little awkward, thick with longing and sheepish for it. She's pretty sure they're at the same place right now, wanting to drag off the rest of their clothes and loath to move from where they're already pressed up against each other.
But it'll be worth it. When her thoughts drift just a little further--to the thought of feeling him inside her, of really riding him--it's simultaneously arousing and disquieting. A little because of Gorman, if she's honest, though she's not letting him sneak back into her thoughts right now if she can help it. Mostly because she knows what happens if you aren't careful, and motherless baby Judith is proof that having a baby after the end of the world is dangerous stuff. She wants him as close as she can have him, but she doesn't want that.
She presses her lips together, trying to figure out how to say it without sounding like she wants to stop. (At this point, stopping sounds nearly like dying.) The best she can think of is that shy little smile, her knuckles pressing in lightly against his hipbone. "I could blow you. Since we don't have a condom."
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There's nothing else to say, and frankly, she's not sure she could speak around the fluttery sensation of his hands and mouth on her and his erection under her. She uncurls her fingers under his jeans, the backs of them brushing down against his length. It's teasing, and she knows it, but the idea of rummaging around in his pants for him seems kind of crass to her--and she still wants to touch him. They really need to get those jeans off, for both their sakes.
Her other hand, she drags down from his hair--she's pretty sure with the way he's got her in his mouth, she's going to be in danger of ripping some of his hair out otherwise, God--raking her nails over his neck on the way down. She ends up near his heart again, this time with her thumb working lightly at his own small nipple.
It's a strange mix of comfortable and unbearable, her shallow breath punctuated by little groans when everything aligns in just the right way. Everything's good, but she wants so much more.
"I--yeah. Me, too." The words come out a little awkward, thick with longing and sheepish for it. She's pretty sure they're at the same place right now, wanting to drag off the rest of their clothes and loath to move from where they're already pressed up against each other.
But it'll be worth it. When her thoughts drift just a little further--to the thought of feeling him inside her, of really riding him--it's simultaneously arousing and disquieting. A little because of Gorman, if she's honest, though she's not letting him sneak back into her thoughts right now if she can help it. Mostly because she knows what happens if you aren't careful, and motherless baby Judith is proof that having a baby after the end of the world is dangerous stuff. She wants him as close as she can have him, but she doesn't want that.
She presses her lips together, trying to figure out how to say it without sounding like she wants to stop. (At this point, stopping sounds nearly like dying.) The best she can think of is that shy little smile, her knuckles pressing in lightly against his hipbone. "I could blow you. Since we don't have a condom."