(no subject)
...canon fic, Thursday, March 30th, about midnight or so. Maybe a little later.
The moonlight was soft, illuminating the pale skin that was draped over his blanket. It brought out every detail of her fair skin. It was so hard not to touch her, but he didn't want to rouse her. Not yet -- his eyes were too busy enjoying every minute detail. His fingertips ran less than an inch above her skin, following the curve of her calf. Higher, because she was wearing nothing but one of his button-down shirts, which had ridden up to just below her waist as she slept.
He couldn't keep his fingers from brushing her when they reached her mid-thigh, and her skin was as soft as he'd ever imagined. She let out a soft breath, and the small smile that he got when he watched her came to his lips.
His palm ran along her skin now, rather than just his fingers, and she shifted just slightly, giving another small sigh. She would wake soon, he knew.
He shifted, moving so that he was leaning over her, instead of propping his head on one of his hands. His lips ran softly along that expanse of skin that was basking in the moonlight, kissing it as he'd desired. Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn't speak. The only reason that he knew she was awake was...
The motion of her hands.
Her fingers found his shoulders, tracing his muscles as he moved higher along her side. His lips met her skin just below the hem of the shirt that she was wearing, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from being overloaded with the sensations that were accosting him.
She guided him without speaking, drawing his mouth from her thigh and up to meet her own with nothing more than her touch against his back, his shoulders. God, her lips. He had been infatuated with her lips almost as much as he had with her legs, and now that she'd brought him to them, he took full advantage of that infatuation. His kiss was hot, needy -- his tongue slipped between her lips, feeling their fullness as his hands went back to her thigh.
When he pulled back from the kiss, there was a look in his eye.
He needed her.
They shifted as one, his body on top of her as her hands roamed his abdomen, teasing him by moving lower before crossing back up to his shoulders. Her hands were another infatuation, though if he was being honest with himself, she was the infatuation.
When his lips met hers again, he could feel her thighs tensing under his legs. Under his hips.
Her hands slipped up to the nape of his neck and as he broke the kiss, her name came from his lips. "Natalie," he gasped.
His eyes flew open and he sat straight up in bed, his breathing hard and gasping. He was covered in sweat, but it wasn't one of those cold sweats that you had when you had woken from a nightmare. No, this was a hot sweat, one that you had to get rid of with a cold shower. It took him a second to calm his breathing a little, and he fell back against his pillow, looking up at the ceiling.
The moonlight was soft, illuminating the pale skin that was draped over his blanket. It brought out every detail of her fair skin. It was so hard not to touch her, but he didn't want to rouse her. Not yet -- his eyes were too busy enjoying every minute detail. His fingertips ran less than an inch above her skin, following the curve of her calf. Higher, because she was wearing nothing but one of his button-down shirts, which had ridden up to just below her waist as she slept.
He couldn't keep his fingers from brushing her when they reached her mid-thigh, and her skin was as soft as he'd ever imagined. She let out a soft breath, and the small smile that he got when he watched her came to his lips.
His palm ran along her skin now, rather than just his fingers, and she shifted just slightly, giving another small sigh. She would wake soon, he knew.
He shifted, moving so that he was leaning over her, instead of propping his head on one of his hands. His lips ran softly along that expanse of skin that was basking in the moonlight, kissing it as he'd desired. Her eyes fluttered open, but she didn't speak. The only reason that he knew she was awake was...
The motion of her hands.
Her fingers found his shoulders, tracing his muscles as he moved higher along her side. His lips met her skin just below the hem of the shirt that she was wearing, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from being overloaded with the sensations that were accosting him.
She guided him without speaking, drawing his mouth from her thigh and up to meet her own with nothing more than her touch against his back, his shoulders. God, her lips. He had been infatuated with her lips almost as much as he had with her legs, and now that she'd brought him to them, he took full advantage of that infatuation. His kiss was hot, needy -- his tongue slipped between her lips, feeling their fullness as his hands went back to her thigh.
When he pulled back from the kiss, there was a look in his eye.
He needed her.
They shifted as one, his body on top of her as her hands roamed his abdomen, teasing him by moving lower before crossing back up to his shoulders. Her hands were another infatuation, though if he was being honest with himself, she was the infatuation.
When his lips met hers again, he could feel her thighs tensing under his legs. Under his hips.
Her hands slipped up to the nape of his neck and as he broke the kiss, her name came from his lips. "Natalie," he gasped.
His eyes flew open and he sat straight up in bed, his breathing hard and gasping. He was covered in sweat, but it wasn't one of those cold sweats that you had when you had woken from a nightmare. No, this was a hot sweat, one that you had to get rid of with a cold shower. It took him a second to calm his breathing a little, and he fell back against his pillow, looking up at the ceiling.