fe_male | memeboxing

[ That's definitely a good way to take that gasp, judging by the immediate response from her as she pushes into his kiss, the faint shudder and grind back against the rock of his hips as much as she's able with how pressed she is against the wall by now, pulling him closer with her hands as much as he's pushing her against it. She's breathing harder than normal by the time he has to pull away too, a little unevenly, and she nips at his lower lip, kisses the edge of his jaw and then as he moves towards her neck again she echoes his motions against his own neck, readjusting her legs just so she can shift against him. Walls are very good for pressure, she's pretty happy about that. ]

[ Walls are great for pressure, but pressure is horrible for self-control. He makes the kind of sound that's either reserved for mild to moderate pain you knew was going to happen, or sudden, intense pleasure, and his grip on her tightens again. He takes advantage of the fact that she's supported by his leg, his waist, and one hand, and uses the other to try and start on his pants, seeing as all she's got on are leggings anyway. He hoists her up just enough so that he can reach the button and the zipper and start undoing both, starting to graze his teeth over her neck, following it with gentler attention. ]

[ Oh god, the pressure and the sound he's making and his grip on this strong all at once - she whimpers and her hips almost writhe against him, teeth against his shoulder for a moment before she manages to calm herself enough to brace herself in a position that definitely allows him to work at removing his pants while pushing herself up enough to have space to peel her leggings down her thighs. And then she returns to kissing his neck, hands on him everywhere she can touch because she needs to be touching him right now, she just does. ]

Fuck. [ He can't tell if she's actually helping or not, initially, the way she's moving. It's certainly not helping his concentration at all, not that he needs a whole lot right now. It's a little harder, doing the button with only one hand, but he does have a bit of practice and once that's done, the zipper is easy. He was totally going to help her with hers after he got that done, but she's cleverly made that a non-issue, so he moves instead to hastily pushing them down enough, thumb in the waistband of the pants and underwear. It's not too difficult to pull them down enough - the pants sit a little lower now, just under his ass, but that's fine because he needed the space to keep his leg where it is for the moment - and then he isn't wasting time lining them both up and more or less letting gravity take care of the rest. ]

[ The sentiment behind his fuck is echoed in the way she grunts as he moves, grip on his shoulder tightening as she works at keeping herself up and not distracting him too much because what he's doing now she's pretty invested in, seriously, she wants those pants down. They need to come down, and she mutters come on against the skin of his neck and then oh god, yes, good, she's shifting herself as quickly as he's working at it and a moment later she's sliding down onto him, as impatient as him. ] Tony. [ Gasped out as she twists her hips against his as much as she's able to. She just really needs the movement, right now, movement of any kind. ]

[ He mumbles something in return that's probably supposed to be something like 'I'm working on it' but may or may not be predominantly unintelligible because he really is working on it and he's working on her neck and he doesn't have the processing power right now to properly run verbal commands. But he does get it done, and then they're together, and holy shit, and he needs a second, but she's already twisting, urging him to move, and so he cuts his second short and rocks up into her. He does it again, shifting his weight a little so she's not partially resting on his leg anymore but is held up entirely by his arms and his pelvis and her own bracing against the wall, and he uses the leverage and gravity to thrust up into her with more force than normal, gradually, slowly - then quickly - working up into a rhythm. ]

[ That's okay, she got the general meaning out of that well enough between the tone of his voice and the fact that he is totally working on it. He's working on everything, and the moment they come together her breath comes out in a hiss. ] Jesus. [ It's tight and uncontrolled, nothing about her movements or words right now particularly well thought out or under her control. She helps with the slight shift in support as well as she can, pushing back into his thrusts with the aid of gravity and working on trying to assist him in setting up a rhythm even as her breath catches every time he pushes into her. This setting she is definitely a fan of, the way the leverage is incredibly effective and he's so close to her. ]

[ He is close to her, and it's an almost imperceptible lean backwards to ensure that the arc reactor isn't bothering her, given how they're close and he doesn't want to leave uncomfortable lines on her breasts or anywhere else. Arms stay put, just the shoulders and inner chest pull back just a tad. But he's still keeping that rhythm, settling into one that both he and she seem to be falling into, and it's a relief to have the pattern down but now it's a matter of time. He buries his face in her shoulder, this time with his forehead resting against it as he thrusts and rocks up into her. He doesn't really have enough processing energy to talk right now, between holding her up and the steady movement, but he can still show her that he appreciates her, that he loves her even if he can't say it. It might not be traditional, it might not actually even be how most people define love, but it's love in the manner in which he understands it, and that's good enough for him. ]

[ She wraps her arms around him, in part so that she can help support herself and in part to rest her hands on the back of his head and neck, run up and down and then just hold on. Him not talking is okay, she doesn't have a lot of ability to speak beyond one syllable things that don't take thought and come to her automatically. Not talking is a sign of the moment, really. Not that she realizes precisely what he's saying. She can understand the feeling and most of the sentiment but her mind would balk long before she considered it a feeling of love. But it doesn't really matter whether she can consciously frame it as such - she understands, on a certain level, and she meets every thrust with her body, turns her lips to just by his ear and whispers encouragement, fragmented and disjointed but certainly there. ]

[ He loves her hands where they wind up, on his head and neck and along and up and down; takes the whispered, fractured encouragements and uses them, keeping his rhythm steady and on the occasionally extra good one, his thrust is a little harder. He's losing himself in her very quickly, and what's keeping him grounded are her hands at his neck, in his hair, and her words, fractured as they are, they're keeping him here, and functional, and that's what they both need right now. Maybe not in a few minutes, but right now. His own rhythm speeds slightly, a little less rhythmic, and his shields are starting to get very patchy in the meantime. He hasn't got the energy required to keep them going right now; not when he's putting so much into the physical connection between them. ]

[ She keeps them there, nails digging in inbetween the moments her grip slips and slides across his body for a moment before they return, always. She can feel his shields fracturing, slides inbetween the edges with almost gleeful abandon even if she's careful about the moment she opens her mind up in turn and lets him see precisely how pleased she is with this moment, how good it feels and how much she cares about him and the way her body is taking everything he's giving her and turning it into pleasure. The words continue unabated, more and more effort required even for the syllables of his name and the quiet short phrases of encouragement but still absolutely worth it. She wants this, wants him, so badly. Every time he thrusts harder it jars a little whimper from him, pushing down against it, asking for more with her lips and her body. ]

[ Yes, please keep talking, he's really enjoying that, even nonsensical as half the things she's saying are, as little he's actually able to pay attention to them specifically, they're helping. He's getting even less composed - or as composed as either one of them has been since she said simply 'Bed.' a few minutes ago - and they'll probably both have bruises later that can't be explained by their sparring, but right now he just wants to bury himself as deeply in her as he can, to elicit as many of those sounds from her as possible, interrupting the flow of those words he's enjoying so much. He can feel the way she slid in between the cracks in his shields, lets himself relax a little with her presence so near in multiple ways and show her some of his sensitivity, some of how all of this feels from his side without her having to go seek it out for herself. ]

[ She's pretty not at all composed right now, and she not only wouldn't mind those bruises she'd welcome them, is almost seeking them from how she pushes against him, pulls him closer with her hands and her words and every tool seh has at her disposal right now. He's getting enough of those noises out of her, building slowly because he's pushing so hard and so sure and this right here, this could last as long as forever with her still being okay with it. That opening up of his drags a long low moan out of her, biting at his neck for a moment inbetween her words because she needs to, she needs every way she can possibly gather to show him how much this matters to her right now, and her mind in turn quietly slides open against his, every part of care and desperate desire for him clear as can be. ]

[ It's been slow and rapid build-up for a little while now, first one, then more and more so the other, and he's nearly to a breaking point already. She pulls him closer, and he stays closer, each move of his both against and into hers creating and maintaining contact along several points. He's not sure how much more in contact they could even be right now, just that he loves it, and doesn't want it to stop. Her words pattern themselves after his own efforts, it seems like, with all of his stuttering and arhythmic movement echoed in the fragments of her sentences and the fractures of her phrasing. He doesn't care though - he almost can't even hear her anymore, so lost in her as he is, and he suddenly realizes how close he is, how much he ought to pull back and how little it would take to push him over.

And then he feels her in his mind, the care and desire and openness of her, and he can't, just, that's it. He stills for a moment, rigid and continuing to hold her up as he comes over the edge, a few seconds of stillness before he - not quite gingerly but - haltingly begins to move again, trying to make sure she gets the same end. In that moment, his lack of movement, when he toppled over he had no shielding up at all. It's a skill he still needs to learn, but at that moment, his sensation and all of his own bottled emotions were there for her to read, and the way she was already in his mind likely happened to expedite the process. ]

[ Since they moved from the mat to the wall the pace shifted, from something exploratory to something almost frantic, both of them apparently needing the release and searching for it in each other, and she's not sure why there's this edge in how they're holding onto each other, the force of it and how closely they're pushing their bodies together. She just knows she loves it and wants to keep him close forever, wants to keep her body pressed against his forever.

She holds onto him carefully as he comes, pulling him closer to her so that he's not going to start leaning the other direction, so she's still pressed between him and the wall, tells him something terribly disjointed about how beautiful he is and how good she wants to make him feel, always, because she can't really think straight past just how much she can feel him in every respect. The moments he is completely unshielded are beautiful to her and she treasures them, loves the unguarded beauty of him being totally available to her even if it's a little overwhelming. And then he's moving again and oh god, she's not going to be terribly far behind him, she doesn't think, not feeling like this, and she gasps and shifts herself so that the angle's a little different, her leverage a little more. ] Just a little more, you're so good, Tony, you're - like that, yes.

[ He follows her lead with the shift in angle, tries to help support the shift in her position without changing it too much himself, mostly just continuing to move on autopilot, more or less. It's going to be a few minutes before he properly gets his mental reserves back together, until his shields are back in place and interlocked and firm and until then, he's just accepting of having her so close in so many ways, feels safe even without them because she's here and that makes things okay.

They are though, clinging to each other and seriously testing the structural integrity of this wall and he's totally okay with that, he built this wall, it'll be fine. ]

[ She's more than okay with him not putting his shields back in place, not hiding from her at all. She wants him here, wants him close in every way, especially now that she's climbing closer and closer to the peak and her words trail off into indecipherable breaths, like she's trying to suck in air he's pulling out. It doesn't take too long for her to follow him, sudden and breathless as she buries her face in his neck and shudders with the sensation.

The slump isn't all that perceptible, trying to make sure that she doesn't overbalance him, but there is a certain definite slackening of her muscles as she stops moving, rests against him and just breathes for a long moment. ]

[ Good because those fuckers aren't going back up for a little while yet. Not at least, until he realizes how down they are and snaps them back into place.

He keeps moving, autopilot adjusting, because it isn't entirely autopilot, just partially, and when she finally falls against him and shudders he only moves a few more times, more out of rhythm and kinesthesis than anything, before coming to a stop, holding her up both against the wall and with his torso, supporting the slump in her muscles as she rests for a moment. His knees are locked, which means that he, too, can moderately enjoy a certain relaxation, hand down and shoulders wide, one arm on the wall beside her and one hand holding her under both thighs in support. He's breathing very heavily, just in general, and not talking yet, but it's clear that he's happy and okay at the moment. ]

[ She's going to be really sad whenever he does, because frankly she doesn't want them back up.

She turns her face further into his neck, presses her lips against his skin quietly and gently as she breathes out against him, in again, out again. Short and sharp still, because that was a pretty fair amount of exertion on her part too. Her shields may not be down quite as completely as his but they're pretty minimal, only the automatic ones still remaining, the ones that have never come down. She doesn't really want to let go or get down or move, actually, moving right now seems like a lot of work, but she also doesn't want to make him keep holding her up. Well. She wants to, but that's because it feels secure and steady and she likes the feeling of closeness. ]

That's seduction. [ She whispers it with a ghost of a smile. Really the term could be applied to either one of them right now, she thinks. ]

[ He doesn't mind holding her up until either she gets tired of it or his legs just give out. They're both okay by him, honestly, either way. He's not that keen on putting her down just yet either, because this is okay, this is all good. He likes this closeness both physically and mentally and he's okay with both versions.

He breathes out a laugh against her, doesn't really have the energy just yet to do it for real, and besides, that would be loud, and disruptive. Takes away from the moment. ] Fair point.

[ She's probably not going to get tired of it anytime soon, though she supposes she could be convinced temporarily if it was to move to a couch or something and then she can lie on him there. She likes lying on him. He's comfortable, it's great.

His tiny laugh brings a wide grin to her face, still pressed against his neck, and she hums out a happy note, pleased with herself and with him and with everything, right now. She's pleased with everything, it's wonderful. ] I try.

[ That's good, because while he doesn't actually want to put her down, it's probably a good idea, even if only temporarily. Things need to be put back away and clothes need to be shrugged back into - more or less - and the more the adrenaline rush fades the more his legs remember that they were sparring before this and then moved straight into very passionate and exhausting sex. He pulls out before he has a chance to soften too much, pulls his pants back up but doesn't bother fastening them again just yet.

So, since she's already leaning a little forward into him, he figures it's as good a time as any. He wraps his hands under her, lets her use his shoulders for the top half of her body and just supports the remainder, and pushes off the wall with a small grunt of effort. There's not a couch in this room, but there is in the one just next to it - he's not really disappointed at all that he didn't get that far with her until now - and while he sits carefully, he slides sideways onto his back far less so. ] A for effort.

[ Yeah, she can admit that that probably needs to happen, but she's definitely a fan of it happening this way rather than any other, holding onto him. Their shirts are somewhere over there but pants and underthings could probably stand to come up, and she pulls her own leggings up and then holds onto him as he walks her over to the couch, slides with him down until she's just laying on him, and then she laughs a little and settles further, perfectly okay with their remaining lack of clothing and general disheveled state.

Because that? That was pretty great. She's happy about everything that just happened, seriously. ] Thank you. You too. [ Just pressing herself against him to keep the warmth. ] You're comfortable.

[ He's finding more and more often lately that he enjoys being furniture for her. Sort of a chair, just now; a bed or at least a body pillow here; a nice throw rug earlier for when they were sparring. He enjoys it. It keeps her close and means he's helpful and it's a great excuse to have his hands on her the whole time.

And right now she's warm and it's all skin above their waists and he loves it even if he's not doing anything special about it, just appreciating the Max-blanket he has and being warm and sated and happy. ] And you make a great throw.

[ That's pretty handy, because she finds herself really happy to use him as furniture. She likes the closeness and the intimacy and his hands on her are always a bonus. It doesn't even need to be for sex or meant to turn her on, she just likes touching him and being touched in turn, having the availability to do that and the comfort of his presence easy and sure and given willingly.

She's doing something similar along the lines of just sort of melting into him, sprawled and lax and yes, sated, that's a good word for how she feels right now. Everything's just sort of warm and glowing. ] We could just be a bed for a while. Or forever.

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