KinkBingo: Sensation Play- CSI universe, Stella-Sofia
Sequel to Ariestess' 'Seeing Is Believing' http://ariestess.livejournal.com/1336872.html, because Stella and Sofia? Ridiculously hot. 'Nuff said.
How do I proceed? How do I let this fascinating woman know that she's not wrong? How do I move past the taboo of her femininity?
A week has passed while I struggle with my questions, with my morphing feelings, the growing carnal burn.
Leave it to Danny, the punk, to finally call me on my shit.
"Longer you wait, longer that bridge is gonna get," he comments calmly as he enters the lab where I pour over evidence. My sharp look is as effective as tossing cotton balls at him. Fortunately for my frazzled nerves, there is no mocking in his eyes or expression. "Big damn deal. You're into Sof and she's way into you, girl. So quit whining and man up, so ta speak."
Before I can comment, to bitch him out or thank him profusely, he's all business again and we talk out the evidence. In the back of my mind I ponder just how right he is. Whatever the end result, I must reach out to Sofia before it's too late.
Once the decision is made, I am energized like an electromagnet. However, Murphy's Law would have it that by the time I can go looking for her, it's late and she's once again managed to get off the clock before me. Okay, time to go hunting then. Luckily for me, the most obvious tack turns out to be the right one.
Steph, the roomie, answers my knock with a grin. "Hey Stella, hi."
"Hi Steph, is Sofia here?"
Girl's got a lousy poker face, but I choke down my impatience and wait for the conflicting emotions in the woman's face to clear. "Yeah, but…"
Interrupting rudely, I do my damnedest to make my case. "Look, I know she's pissed at me, but we have to talk this out. Now, not later when we're too wounded to talk it out at all. And sure as hell not on the clock."
One more agonizing moment of hesitation and Steph nods before stepping aside to let me enter the tiny apartment. I've been here twice before, once dropping off and once picking up. The cramped space looks no different, a bachelorette pad kept neat out of necessity. Skirting an overstuffed couch half again too large for the space, I follow the strains of a very clean soprano wailing along to some sort of techno music.
Sofia is authentically startled to see me when she looks up from the book she's pouring over. When her blonde eyebrows furrow and she opens her mouth to speak, I dig deep and try to find the words. "Look, I've done nothing but think about that look you gave me. Day and night, it's percolated down into places I didn't even know I had. You're under my skin and deep in my body and soul, dammit. I'm not afraid of you and I'm not afraid of this. Just give me a chance."
Expression unreadable, Sofia fingers a tiny remote to drop the music a few octaves and I can hear my own labored breathing clearly now. There's something calculating in the blue eyes, something like how a hungry cat must look at a mouse.
"Please," I hear myself whisper with no input from my hysterical conscious mind, "I need you to come over here and touch me."
Normally that smug smirk might annoy me, but right now all I can think is that it should mean that she's done with shutting me out and might bring me some relief. Uncoiling from the minuscule desk, Sofia takes the two strutting steps to stand close enough to my trembling body that I can feel our mingling body heat. Endless moments pass as we eye each other and I choke down inappropriate and probably hysterical laughter, wondering if she's always been this much shorter than myself.
When she lays a gentle hand on my belly, a deep, shaky breath both staves off the lightheadedness and makes it worse. The blue eyes watch her own hand curiously and I gasp softly as she strokes that hand over the warm heat of my lower ribs, curls around my waist, fingertips brushing that sensitive place on my lower back.
All this burn of sensation from a simple touch. What have I gotten myself into?
Eyes blurred and half open, I can't really see, but can certainly feel the whisper of her body closer, breasts brushing mine, that well-formed nose stroking along my cheek and her smile pressing to my chin. For moments or an eternity, her breath mingles with mine before our lips brush. The innocent contact nearly makes my knees buckle.
It's a silent, mutual decision to deepen the experimental kiss. She feels marvelous, slim and wiry and soft against me. Peeling my hands from the door at my back, I smooth them over her shoulders, one traveling down her back, the other curling around her neck, warm beneath the loose pony tail.
Emotionally rattled and frankly, horny, I lose track of what's going on for a while, lost in Sofia's kisses and the heat of her body so close. While I've always had a healthy sex drive and enjoyed how arousal makes me feel, this is a whole different burn. The smart, upper part of my brain fades away as the sensations overwhelm me.
The hard, textured surface of the door, the press of flesh and bone, the nip of white teeth, blunt nails on my skin; it's an intoxicating cocktail. With a jerk, we've moved, stumbling, the kiss broken for a moment, the blue eyes are ablaze with heat that makes me shiver. Squawking, I lose my balance and tumble to Sofia's unmade bed. Leering, the object of my affection straddles my fallen body and I can't help but notice that expression is made for her face.
Rough wool bunched beneath me is stark contrast to soft sheets and her softer skin. The tickle of her trailing mane on my throat is a sublime sensation that I know will be a thrill that I will always relish. God, her mouth is like a drug, loving and attentive and making me squirm like a randy teenager.
The hard rake of blunt nails along my lower ribs is the last straw, making me shudder in something that feels like a mini-orgasm.
When she does finally speak, it's almost jarring. "Stella."
Dizzy and overheated, I pull together my scattered attention and look up at her. One warm hand is just at the edge of my shirt, fingertips hot and calloused on my skin. That much-missed smile is back, luminous on her expressive face.
"Thank you for coming to see me. Can I take you out sometime?"
How do I proceed? How do I let this fascinating woman know that she's not wrong? How do I move past the taboo of her femininity?
A week has passed while I struggle with my questions, with my morphing feelings, the growing carnal burn.
Leave it to Danny, the punk, to finally call me on my shit.
"Longer you wait, longer that bridge is gonna get," he comments calmly as he enters the lab where I pour over evidence. My sharp look is as effective as tossing cotton balls at him. Fortunately for my frazzled nerves, there is no mocking in his eyes or expression. "Big damn deal. You're into Sof and she's way into you, girl. So quit whining and man up, so ta speak."
Before I can comment, to bitch him out or thank him profusely, he's all business again and we talk out the evidence. In the back of my mind I ponder just how right he is. Whatever the end result, I must reach out to Sofia before it's too late.
Once the decision is made, I am energized like an electromagnet. However, Murphy's Law would have it that by the time I can go looking for her, it's late and she's once again managed to get off the clock before me. Okay, time to go hunting then. Luckily for me, the most obvious tack turns out to be the right one.
Steph, the roomie, answers my knock with a grin. "Hey Stella, hi."
"Hi Steph, is Sofia here?"
Girl's got a lousy poker face, but I choke down my impatience and wait for the conflicting emotions in the woman's face to clear. "Yeah, but…"
Interrupting rudely, I do my damnedest to make my case. "Look, I know she's pissed at me, but we have to talk this out. Now, not later when we're too wounded to talk it out at all. And sure as hell not on the clock."
One more agonizing moment of hesitation and Steph nods before stepping aside to let me enter the tiny apartment. I've been here twice before, once dropping off and once picking up. The cramped space looks no different, a bachelorette pad kept neat out of necessity. Skirting an overstuffed couch half again too large for the space, I follow the strains of a very clean soprano wailing along to some sort of techno music.
Sofia is authentically startled to see me when she looks up from the book she's pouring over. When her blonde eyebrows furrow and she opens her mouth to speak, I dig deep and try to find the words. "Look, I've done nothing but think about that look you gave me. Day and night, it's percolated down into places I didn't even know I had. You're under my skin and deep in my body and soul, dammit. I'm not afraid of you and I'm not afraid of this. Just give me a chance."
Expression unreadable, Sofia fingers a tiny remote to drop the music a few octaves and I can hear my own labored breathing clearly now. There's something calculating in the blue eyes, something like how a hungry cat must look at a mouse.
"Please," I hear myself whisper with no input from my hysterical conscious mind, "I need you to come over here and touch me."
Normally that smug smirk might annoy me, but right now all I can think is that it should mean that she's done with shutting me out and might bring me some relief. Uncoiling from the minuscule desk, Sofia takes the two strutting steps to stand close enough to my trembling body that I can feel our mingling body heat. Endless moments pass as we eye each other and I choke down inappropriate and probably hysterical laughter, wondering if she's always been this much shorter than myself.
When she lays a gentle hand on my belly, a deep, shaky breath both staves off the lightheadedness and makes it worse. The blue eyes watch her own hand curiously and I gasp softly as she strokes that hand over the warm heat of my lower ribs, curls around my waist, fingertips brushing that sensitive place on my lower back.
All this burn of sensation from a simple touch. What have I gotten myself into?
Eyes blurred and half open, I can't really see, but can certainly feel the whisper of her body closer, breasts brushing mine, that well-formed nose stroking along my cheek and her smile pressing to my chin. For moments or an eternity, her breath mingles with mine before our lips brush. The innocent contact nearly makes my knees buckle.
It's a silent, mutual decision to deepen the experimental kiss. She feels marvelous, slim and wiry and soft against me. Peeling my hands from the door at my back, I smooth them over her shoulders, one traveling down her back, the other curling around her neck, warm beneath the loose pony tail.
Emotionally rattled and frankly, horny, I lose track of what's going on for a while, lost in Sofia's kisses and the heat of her body so close. While I've always had a healthy sex drive and enjoyed how arousal makes me feel, this is a whole different burn. The smart, upper part of my brain fades away as the sensations overwhelm me.
The hard, textured surface of the door, the press of flesh and bone, the nip of white teeth, blunt nails on my skin; it's an intoxicating cocktail. With a jerk, we've moved, stumbling, the kiss broken for a moment, the blue eyes are ablaze with heat that makes me shiver. Squawking, I lose my balance and tumble to Sofia's unmade bed. Leering, the object of my affection straddles my fallen body and I can't help but notice that expression is made for her face.
Rough wool bunched beneath me is stark contrast to soft sheets and her softer skin. The tickle of her trailing mane on my throat is a sublime sensation that I know will be a thrill that I will always relish. God, her mouth is like a drug, loving and attentive and making me squirm like a randy teenager.
The hard rake of blunt nails along my lower ribs is the last straw, making me shudder in something that feels like a mini-orgasm.
When she does finally speak, it's almost jarring. "Stella."
Dizzy and overheated, I pull together my scattered attention and look up at her. One warm hand is just at the edge of my shirt, fingertips hot and calloused on my skin. That much-missed smile is back, luminous on her expressive face.
"Thank you for coming to see me. Can I take you out sometime?"