Carnal Knowledge 6/12
anonymous
June 3 2010, 09:33:34 UTC
Something in the way he looked at her warmed in response to her attempt at flirtation. His dark eyes slowly moved down her body, taking in every curve outlined by her robes. He was definitely smiling. "You may just be in for more of an education than you expect," he warned, drawing nearer. "If you don't feel ready to remove your robes, you may undress me," he bade her. "And...do it with your senses, rather than your intellect."
Nervously, she lifted her hands to the laces of the tunic where they were tied at his throat and tugged. She felt the friction vibrating along the string as one end of the laces slid along the other. With trembling fingers she pulled the edges of his collar apart, then reached down for the hem of his shirt, intent upon lifting it.
"Stop," he said softly, catching her hands in his. Afraid she had done something wrong, Solona began to pull back, but he merely drew her hands back to his collar and set her fingers at the place where his shirt parted, revealing his skin. "Use your senses," he admonished again. "Sex is about sensation, not erudition."
Tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, she let her fingertips flutter over his exposed skin. He was warm, despite the cool night air, and his skin was surprisingly soft. Touching him was...pleasant. She wanted to feel more. Closing her eyes, she traced the ridge of his collarbone, the hollow above it, up to his neck where the bristle of his beard began. He obligingly tipped his head back and she explored the texture of his beard, coarse and wiry.
When at last she reached for the hem of his tunic again, it was with a purpose. She let her hands slide beneath it and pressed them to the skin of his abdomen. His skin quivered and twitched as her fingers brushed the sides of his waist. She could feel ridges beneath his skin, and she wanted to see them. When she lifted his tunic, he made no move to stop her, but instead ducked his head and raised his arms, aiding her in removing it.
His skin was striped with pale lines and marred by irregular, puckered scars, and yet it seemed perfect. Seeing the cause of those ridges her fingers had discovered, her eyes widened. The definition of his muscles beneath his scarred skin was wholly unexpected, and completely glorious. They descended from his chest to dip beneath the loose waistband of his trousers in a cascade of warm, living stone. She dragged her knuckles down his torso, feeling each ripple and bump, amazed at how hard and unyielding human flesh could be.
Lifting her eyes, she encountered the buds of his nipples, erect and centered atop a wide, flat pad of muscle. When she touched one, it became harder, smaller, and Duncan let out of low, subsonic groan. At the sound, she felt her own nipples tighten beneath her robes. She withdrew one hand to touch her own breast, felt the hard peak beneath the material. It was exquisitely sensitive when she touched it, even through her robes, and when she rubbed it a soft sigh of pleasure slid from her lips and her eyes fluttered shut.
When she opened them again, Duncan was watching her, his gaze riveted on her hand covering her own breast, his eyes hungry. At his look, everything from her waist down clenched in a delicious surge of warmth and tension. Duncan reached out, his hands deftly making short work of the ties of her robes and parting them to the waist. His hand slipped inside and slid up her ribs to cup her breast.
"Oh!" Her lips opened in a gasp, and she forgot to stare at him as her eyes snapped shut and her head fell back. It startled her to feel a corresponding pulse between her legs as his thumb passed over her nipple. The heat of his hand felt like a brand compared to the chill of the air on her exposed skin and she found herself arching a little to press her breast more firmly into his warm, calloused palm.
Now the soft sighs and moans that had drifted from the bunks in the dormitory made more sense, she thought wonderingly, astonished to hear an uncontrollable whimper emerge from her own lips as his fingers plied her nipple and his palm molded the soft flesh of her breast. He bent over and if his hand had been warm, his mouth was nothing short of a wet inferno engulfing her nipple.
Nervously, she lifted her hands to the laces of the tunic where they were tied at his throat and tugged. She felt the friction vibrating along the string as one end of the laces slid along the other. With trembling fingers she pulled the edges of his collar apart, then reached down for the hem of his shirt, intent upon lifting it.
"Stop," he said softly, catching her hands in his. Afraid she had done something wrong, Solona began to pull back, but he merely drew her hands back to his collar and set her fingers at the place where his shirt parted, revealing his skin. "Use your senses," he admonished again. "Sex is about sensation, not erudition."
Tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, she let her fingertips flutter over his exposed skin. He was warm, despite the cool night air, and his skin was surprisingly soft. Touching him was...pleasant. She wanted to feel more. Closing her eyes, she traced the ridge of his collarbone, the hollow above it, up to his neck where the bristle of his beard began. He obligingly tipped his head back and she explored the texture of his beard, coarse and wiry.
When at last she reached for the hem of his tunic again, it was with a purpose. She let her hands slide beneath it and pressed them to the skin of his abdomen. His skin quivered and twitched as her fingers brushed the sides of his waist. She could feel ridges beneath his skin, and she wanted to see them. When she lifted his tunic, he made no move to stop her, but instead ducked his head and raised his arms, aiding her in removing it.
His skin was striped with pale lines and marred by irregular, puckered scars, and yet it seemed perfect. Seeing the cause of those ridges her fingers had discovered, her eyes widened. The definition of his muscles beneath his scarred skin was wholly unexpected, and completely glorious. They descended from his chest to dip beneath the loose waistband of his trousers in a cascade of warm, living stone. She dragged her knuckles down his torso, feeling each ripple and bump, amazed at how hard and unyielding human flesh could be.
Lifting her eyes, she encountered the buds of his nipples, erect and centered atop a wide, flat pad of muscle. When she touched one, it became harder, smaller, and Duncan let out of low, subsonic groan. At the sound, she felt her own nipples tighten beneath her robes. She withdrew one hand to touch her own breast, felt the hard peak beneath the material. It was exquisitely sensitive when she touched it, even through her robes, and when she rubbed it a soft sigh of pleasure slid from her lips and her eyes fluttered shut.
When she opened them again, Duncan was watching her, his gaze riveted on her hand covering her own breast, his eyes hungry. At his look, everything from her waist down clenched in a delicious surge of warmth and tension. Duncan reached out, his hands deftly making short work of the ties of her robes and parting them to the waist. His hand slipped inside and slid up her ribs to cup her breast.
"Oh!" Her lips opened in a gasp, and she forgot to stare at him as her eyes snapped shut and her head fell back. It startled her to feel a corresponding pulse between her legs as his thumb passed over her nipple. The heat of his hand felt like a brand compared to the chill of the air on her exposed skin and she found herself arching a little to press her breast more firmly into his warm, calloused palm.
Now the soft sighs and moans that had drifted from the bunks in the dormitory made more sense, she thought wonderingly, astonished to hear an uncontrollable whimper emerge from her own lips as his fingers plied her nipple and his palm molded the soft flesh of her breast. He bent over and if his hand had been warm, his mouth was nothing short of a wet inferno engulfing her nipple.
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