time paradoxes are for doctor who- rp with libertinespirit

[canbebought]

((Continued from this))

He allows himself to feel ever so slightly smug at the brief look of astonishment on her face as the room melts into being around them, but it doesn't last long.  There is too much wonder in him, too much love and wild, disbelieving happiness in this moment; the two of them, both needing, come together by chance here in this

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[libertinespirit]

The teasing scrape of his teeth followed by the feel of his hand on her breast has Angelica utter the softest of sounds, eyes falling shut, her lashes dark on her pale cheeks. For a moment her masquerade of temptress falls, and she is simply a woman in need. A need which can only be satisfied by one man. Nay, she never was a delicate bird. Certainly not after having shared a marriage bed with Edward Sexby.

Pressing back into him one last time, she moves to turn in his arms, facing him. What she finds there in his eyes is near her undoing, heart stuttering in her chest. Only now does realisation dawn; soon she will be truly united with her love, cruelly taken from her too soon, and he will finally lay true claim to one he has desired and loved from a distance for so many days and nights. When breath has returned to her, a slow smile returns to her red lips, and she presses into him, one arm gently lain around his neck, the other hand travelling south, fingertips brushing ever so lightly over the front of his breeches.

"I daresay the husband is dressed too elaborately compared to his wife, sir," she whispers, eyes bright, before leaning in to seal their mouths together once again. She will never tire of his taste, never tire of the feel of their bodies pressed together like this. She may only hope this night will last a lifetime, for she will not be satisfied with less. Not at all.

[canbebought]

A woman of spirit indeed! Sexby actually laughs into her renewed kiss, joy and amusement condensed into the sound. He has had even less cause to laugh than he has had to smile over the years of his life, but somehow it is not surprising; it's Angelica, after all. That she should free his laughter is nothing strange.

He could kiss her forever, he feels, tasting deep of her mouth, but she is the one who mentioned his state of overdress, so after a moment, he pulls back, sighing softly through his smile. 'Well then,' he murmurs, brushing over her cheek once again, 'We'd best change that, hadn't we?'

The barest step back is required for him to start at the buttons of his collar. One after another slips out, the long line of buttons down his jacket, until he's able to discard it. The shirt would follow, but for the bright ribbons of her garter tied around his upper arm. He looks to it, his other hand going to finger the ribbons for a moment before unknotting them and pulling them off.

'Know you I was... jealous of these ribbons, for they had touched your skin when I could not?' Sexby exhales a rueful little laugh, before looking back up at Angelica. 'In truth, madam, I never thought to get any closer to you than I was by wearing these upon my arm.'

[libertinespirit]

The sound of his laughter is like a soothing balm to Angelica's weary heart, and she revels in it, the sound brightening her spirit all the more.

With the sight of her garter tied around his upper arm, and then in his hands, come the memories of their first kiss, her soft words of devotion, his pained ones. I cannot take Rainsborough's widow to me while his murdered still walketh the earth. Silently, she takes the ribbons from his hand, their blue color not yet as faint as she remembers them from that day. For a few moments, she looks down at them, emotion flooding her head and heart the way his rueful words and laugh do as well.

When she looks back up to him, gazes connecting, she casts the garter on the bed without a word. Her shift soon follows, slowly sliding off her shoulders and onto the floor. She closes the short distance between them once again, without touching him but for the air that grows warm between them. Her voice is laced with quiet resolve, devotion for this man, and a subtle hint of passion as she looks deeply into his eyes.

"Then touch me, and be rid of your jealousy once and for all."

[canbebought]

Sexby watches, still, entranced, as Angelica doffs her shift, letting it fall to the floor around her feet. She is entirely naked before him, slender and white, and Sexby takes all of her in; her toes against the floor, the creases of flesh here and there, the rosiness of her breasts. Her dark hair and her shining eyes. He closes his eyes and swallows as she moves closer; he can feel her as she approaches.

Her words are a command, and one Sexby would not disobey if he could. He nods, but does not touch, instead steps back once again, pulling his shirt over his head. He has no shame in his body, or the scars it bears. He has lived, and his skin bears testament to that. He feels flushed, anticipation and desire warring in his breast.

The rest of his clothes follow, discarded carelessly, until he is quite as naked as Angelica. The very obvious indeed evidence of his arousal is slightly awkward, simply standing here as he is under her eyes, and he gives her a slightly crooked smile.

Taking that step or two forward, he reaches out to take her hand, brushing fingertips against fingertips. 'My lady,' he murmurs, before pulling her close into a kiss. Her body presses against his, skin on skin, and Sexby's other hand ghosts down her back, caressing the silken skin.

[libertinespirit]

Oh, but he is beautiful, this husband of hers, this outcast, this kindred spirit from the moment she came into his life, though she did not know it yet at the time.

When he pulls her close, and that first moment of skin on skin is created, Angelica thinks she will surely die and be cast in the flames for the reaction of her body, the sound that escapes her lips and is caught by Sexby's. There can be no greater bliss than this, she cannot believe it, and for that she will burn. She cares not, wandering hands tracing across her beloved's chest, fingers following scars she knows to be there, or patches of skin where scars have yet to be made. Shadows of things yet to come, but she cannot think of that now. Now is for them.

The evidence of his arousal is pressing against her stomach, and she shivers with desire, one hand travelling down between them to brush light fingertips over it. Drawing back from his lips, no more than a breath apart (for she does not know if she can stand anymore distance between them now), she smiles at him, a soft smile, betrayed by the curve in the corner which speaks of wicked things. She takes both his hands in hers, and moves back until the bed hits the back of her knees, and sinks down upon it.

"Come, my bold heart," she coos playfully, looking up at him, "Let us see who shall be tamed first this night."

[canbebought]

The way she touches him, it is as if she knows his body better than he does himself. And it's true, in a way, if she is what she says (and of that, Sexby has no doubt). She knows what he will be in the years to come, skin now smooth that will bear the evidence of future battles and years of hardship, and the knowledge of being so known, known and still loved unreservedly. It is like nothing Sexby has ever known, and his smile, when she takes his hands, is hesitant still.

The sight of Angelica there on the bed before him, though; that is very nearly his undoing. He sinks down beside her, brushing her hair over her shoulders so that nothing of her is concealed to him, and leans in to brush lips over her neck, scraping gently with the bristle of his beard against white, white skin.

'If in truth we be man and wife,' he says, and the same playful note is there in his voice, though much more deeply hidden, 'then you will know that Edward Sexby may be tamed by no man.' The hand resting against her neck slips down, and he pinches her nipple. His voice remains the same as ever, but a teasing glint appears in his eyes. 'Nor any woman. No more, I think, may you.'

And he would have it no other way. Even the young Mistress Fanshawe he last saw had not allowed herself to be jessed and tethered by her whelp of a husband; the one who sits naked on the bed beside him is something stronger, and wilder even yet.

((OOC: Ack! Sorry that took so long))

[libertinespirit]

Angelica gasps softly when his pinches her, perhaps a touch too delighted for the sound to be considered shocked or affronted. She watches him for a moment, touched again by the soft quality in his eyes, so at odds with the cruelty marked on his body by blade and gun alike. She feels loved in his presence, for all that she is, and not only all society claims is lovable.

When she moves, all her touches are light; her hand pressing against his shoulder, gently forcing him to lie down; the way her hair cascades down her shoulders again, tickling her breasts, as she sits astride of him; the palm of her hands resting on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath one of them. Her smile is subtle, but feral, like that of a cat, as she looks down upon him.

"Then I fear this shall be a very long night indeed, sir."

[ooc; not a problem. Holidays, all that.]

[canbebought]

Sexby allows himself to be moved by her, pressed back by cool touches of her small hands. It becomes apparent after a moment the position she's manoeuvering them into, and Sexby has to close his eyes for a moment against the sight of it. Sweet God, this is how it should be, Angelica atop him, possessed of her wit and her wicked smile, untrammelled, with her hair wild over her breasts. His breath catches in his throat as his prick presses against her bare arse.

His lips quirk, and he catches her hands in his own, tracing the pads of callused fingers up her arms, before dropping down to rest against her hips. In what is a display of astounding self-control, he rotates his hips once, under her, pressing up just enough so that she'll be able to feel it. He swallows against the sensation that shivers out under his skin.

'And I would have it no other way,' he answers her teasing, his thumbs finding the crease between hip and thigh and stroking gently over them. 'It is no man at all whose marriage bed is duty, and nothing more.'

[libertinespirit]

Angelica closes her eyes ever so briefly at the feel of Sexby pressing up against her. It is over much too soon, and when her eyes open once again to look down at her love, they are heated, and wanting. Wordlessly, she raises herself a little, reaches between them to lightly take hold of him, and slowly, so slowly, sweet torture, guides him inside of her. Her eyes never leave his, not when the feel of him inside her becomes too much to remain composed, and a soft, mewling sound falls from her ripe lips. Not when his hand on her hip tightens fractionally. And not when he is finally buried deep inside of her.

Aside from the small sound which escaped her as she sank down upon him, her shivering breath and burning eyes are all that give away how affected she is, both body and soul. And when she speaks, her low, sultry voice with a teasing edge completes the image of her desiring this man with all that she is.

"Sexby," she breathes, "Have you any other use for that mouth of yours besides talk?"

[canbebought]

He would fain never look away from her again, had he his way, but when she lifts her hips, taking him in hand and sinking down atop him, he cannot help the way his eyelids flutter shut. His lips parted around a silent breath, his whole body strung with tension and exquisite pleasure, Sexby exhales a shaking breath, his hands on her hips tightening just slightly. She is exquisite; tight, wet heat surrounding him, setting every nerve in his body aflame.

At her words, the laugh he exhales is edged with a moan. All he can find in himself to say is 'Aye, madam. I do.'

It is not his mouth he uses, though, but his hips, rolling up into her as one hand slides up her back, the concavity of her spine. The pleasure coiled in his gut tightens, and he groans, leaning up to trail kisses along her neck, her collarbone. When he thrusts again, encouraging her into a rhythm, he abandons kissing to suck on the point of her collarbone, hoping for the skin to muffle the sound of his groan.