[ She's not entirely sure why she is okay with it because she's always been big on standing on her own two feet, but for some reason with him it's all right. It's different when it's him, when it's support and caring and when she can hold in turn and push him down against a bed and tie him down. It's an exchange she's all right with. And he's solid, he's stability. He's everything she never thought she'd have and everything that she now can't give up.
She rests one foot on the back of his leg, sliding it up and down slowly as she settles into leaving a mark on his throat, right over his pulse point, hips pushing upwards in an attempt to find his. ]
[ There also was on a smaller but still important note the fact that she'd just had what looked like a somewhat intense climax and it would have been rude to ask her to walk again right after that. He's a gentleman after all, his nannies raised him right.
Or. Well, they tried, anyway.
Regardless, the marking, her hips, her leg - he was already being fairly impatient; all of that more or less just cements his lack of such things and means that one hand goes fully to supporting himself, and the other moves down to take care of whatever has to be done to her pants and then his own. ]
[ Well that's fair. It had been, you know, somewhat intense. Just a little bit, there. If she had stood up to walk she might have sat back down again.
Her hands move to help him, pushing down his pants and boxers so that he can move on to hers, getting everything out of the way because yeah, that's about what she was aiming for her. It doesn't stop her from grinding her hips upwards again for a moment, but it's only a moment and then she's relieving her desire with her teeth on his throat. It's not even really about physical desire, though there's still plenty of that coursing through her. But a lot of it right now is about wanting to see him reach that same peak she did, see his face twist with pleasure. ]
[ He makes quick work of her own lower garments, having lost his patience somewhere long before they arrived to the bedroom - she interrupts his movements by grinding up and oh, jesus, that friction, her pants on his cock, the fabric, that was fun, and by the time she gets her teeth on his throat he's recovered - mostly - and gone on to line them both up properly. There it's only a quick moment - because for some reason every time he does this he needs to meet her eyes, it's like it's some sort of thing - and then slides in, not too slowly, but not all at once, yet all the way to the hilt. He takes a couple of seconds to revel in the feel of her all around him, to give her time to adjust to the reverse of the same, and then slowly builds up into a rhythm. ]
[ She's making soft quiet noises at this point, encouraging him on with her hands and teeth and when he meets her eyes she looks at him in return, eyes blown and dark and entirely pleased as she rests her hands on his hips and presses up into him, taking that moment to feel the pleasure of him being buried in her, her nerves alight all over again as she rolls her hips against his in that momentary interim. And then he's moving and her hands slide up to his back, nails digging in for purchase, for the pleasure of the purchase of his skin. ]
[ Yes, excellent, that is all wonderfully encouraging, and he enjoys every bit of it, opening up just enough to catch the minute shifts in her breathing, the hastening of her heartbeat, smell the hormones flooding the pair of them. It's a dizzying number of sensations happening all at once, and he winds up shutting them back down to normal as he shifts and finds a better angle, moves her leg just a little and manages to push just that much deeper inside her. He grins with the nails on his back, pushes harder with his thrusts to see if he can get her to hold onto him more. ]
[ It is a rather dizzy amount of sensation, and she can feel how he opened up to it and then had to close again, is leaving her mind open to his in turn as she pushes back against him. She knows her nails are leaving marks by now, doesn't mind at all because she knows he doesn't mind either and she likes it, she likes the visible representation of what she's done with him. ]
[ Visible representation is pretty much always a good thing, in his opinion, almost regardless of whatever it is you're actually representing. Everybody loves a good infographic. And it's nice that she's staying open and present and holding on like she is, and he takes that for everything he can while it's happening - not that it's particularly rare, just that he doesn't ever really seem to get tired of it. There's a lot of things running on instinct at the moment though, and if he's not quite putting as much effort into staying controlled, he's not totally sure that he could really be blamed for it. That was mostly what he did and drained his reserves of in the living room, on the way over here, so while he'll totally try and get her as far as he can again, there's not really any promises being made. ]
i worked really hard to not laugh out loud at 'everyone loves a good infographic' again
[ She's certainly got no intentions of blaming him for it. You could even say that she's been actively encouraging his lack of control, pushing him further, and right now she's a lot more focused on him and getting him off than she is at all on herself, pushing up with her hips at the right part of his thrust to help drive him deeper. ]
[ Well she doesn't really need to worry about that, about getting him off - he isn't going to need a whole lot more time or effort for that particular front. She's definitely actively encouraging things, and then she moves like that and that's pretty damn fantastic. He mumbles some sort of approval in regards to the response, keeps the rest of his approval more or less phonetic in origin even if it doesn't so much resemble actual words. In part it might have been a warning to her, but ultimately he winds up not really getting enough warning himself to actually give her one before he's slowing down again, tensing and tightening and stilling. ]
[ She absolutely approves of his lack of words at this moment. It's always a nice thing to hear him not entirely able to summon words but keep talking anyways, pours warmth down her spine and across the skin his breath is touching. And the look on his face when he comes - that's something she's always going to treasure, pulling him closer as she relishes every tremble of his body against hers, rolls her hips up against his a few more times half to prolong the sensation for him and in part to finish pushing her the last small space to her own climax. She likes being able to feel and see every bit of the physical effect she's had on him. ]
[ Honestly it's really just the little things in life, like reducing the language capacity of verbose geniuses down to nil because of your prowess, that you have to sit back and take the time to appreciate. He certainly appreciates it, and enjoys that she seems to as well, even though the latter is really more selfishly motivated than anything else. How could it not be? Similar in vein, how could he not continue to at least try and talk - it's a method of sorting things together and apart, cataloging and processing, and okay, sometimes there's so much processing actually happening that the method by which such processing occurs takes a bit of a hit in specificity, but either way. It's there and it's happening, sort of, and it's still good. He lets her pull him closer, more or less keep him that way as he haltingly attempts to move with her still, body responding both out of instinct and the need to if not reduce the amount of sudden sensation than at least to go along with it in some sort of mental trickery. There's some tremble, both borne of effort and in the overwhelming, but gradually he calms again, stays close even as he shifts his weight a little and comes back to himself. ]
[ It's something that she certainly quite enjoys, the knowledge that she managed to provide enough physical sensation to him that it overrode his ability to actually form coherent words, and given how very good he is at talking she feels that's a pretty good level of skill to have reached, even if it can still (always) be improved on. She comes back to herself a little after him, shifting to pull slightly free of him so that they don't have to move again for a little while, sinking into the mattress and keeping her arms around him, tilting her face into his neck and breathing out slowly.
She wants to thank him, for everything, for the distraction and the warmth and the way the memories pushed to the forward have receded again, enough to grant her a little peace.For the moment, though, she just presses her lips against his neck and keeps him close. ]
[ That's all good. He's more or less completely fine with that. She shifts to one side and he just enough to the other to mean that he can lie next to her, more or less. It's not a complete switch, but enough to where he's okay enough with relaxing completely, without worrying about smothering her or what-have-you. He doesn't typically worry about that sort of thing anyway, but even so. ]
More enough, right? [ Because he just can't not talk for long. Apologies. ] That felt like more enough.
[ She hmms a little bit into his skin and moves with him well enough, settling in next to him. There's a long pause and then she smiles slowly, nods. ]
More enough. [ Tilting her head back just enough to look at him. ] You're always more enough.
[ Excellent, good - he'd hate to lose the touch so quickly anyway. Getting so much and then going down to nothing? Sometimes that works. Sometimes it's the desired course of events. Usually, it just makes the low hit that much harder. ]
Usually I'm more than enough, anyway. And I don't even completely mean it like that.
[ He doesn't need to worry about that with her. The touching is almost the most important part of the intimacy, the being physically close to someone the thing she used to miss most and is always going to be looking for. She's not likely to leave him alone after sex unless it's something he decides he wants, and even then it'll be reluctant. She's far too fond of resting against him and feeling the warmth of his body to be happy leaving him.
A tiny snort of almost laughter. ] How do you mean it exactly, then?
Apply your imagination. You know what I meant. [ Handwave, some sort of gesture to accompany whatever it is he isn't actually saying with that, whether because he doesn't feel like it or didn't know where he was going with the train of thought anyway in the first place. ]
Mmm. Mr. Eloquent, right here. [ But she sounds more amused than anything, resting her head against him, fingers running gently back and forth across his bare skin. And after a long moment of silence, abruptly and more seriously. ] Do you ever wonder why us?
[ Chewing over what she wants to say in silence for a long moment as she runs her fingers across his skin, decidedly not looking at him. ] Why we got all this shit to deal with.
I don't think anyone particularly likes karma, except people who sell kitsch tchotchkes and maybe people who technically ought to be on the lower end of the scale. Everyone else likes to think it's their own hard work paying off, or - [ Hand wave. Who the fuck knows. He doesn't, and he certainly falls into the second category of people, except he doesn't, because he knows that and therefore doesn't like karma, but whatever. ]
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She rests one foot on the back of his leg, sliding it up and down slowly as she settles into leaving a mark on his throat, right over his pulse point, hips pushing upwards in an attempt to find his. ]
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Or. Well, they tried, anyway.
Regardless, the marking, her hips, her leg - he was already being fairly impatient; all of that more or less just cements his lack of such things and means that one hand goes fully to supporting himself, and the other moves down to take care of whatever has to be done to her pants and then his own. ]
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Her hands move to help him, pushing down his pants and boxers so that he can move on to hers, getting everything out of the way because yeah, that's about what she was aiming for her. It doesn't stop her from grinding her hips upwards again for a moment, but it's only a moment and then she's relieving her desire with her teeth on his throat. It's not even really about physical desire, though there's still plenty of that coursing through her. But a lot of it right now is about wanting to see him reach that same peak she did, see his face twist with pleasure. ]
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i worked really hard to not laugh out loud at 'everyone loves a good infographic' again
good.
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She wants to thank him, for everything, for the distraction and the warmth and the way the memories pushed to the forward have receded again, enough to grant her a little peace.For the moment, though, she just presses her lips against his neck and keeps him close. ]
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More enough, right? [ Because he just can't not talk for long. Apologies. ] That felt like more enough.
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More enough. [ Tilting her head back just enough to look at him. ] You're always more enough.
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Usually I'm more than enough, anyway. And I don't even completely mean it like that.
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A tiny snort of almost laughter. ] How do you mean it exactly, then?
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I don't think I like karma.
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