(no subject)
Peanut Butter - Fire
Main entry
Timeframe : 1260
They’re laughing and breathless and rolling together, all lips and hands and… lying in a hayloft.
“This has to be the most absurd place,” Ski starts, as she pulls away for a moment to relieve herself of a bit of straw that’s been poking her in the ribs. They’ve been sneaking about, kissing in corners and corridors for weeks, but this is the first time it’s gone this far. She’s on her back, in the hay, half out of her dress, and wondering what’s possessed her not to stop as she has before.
Tristan’s grinning that big, dopey grin of his. “I offered my bed,” he says, quick to fill the void at her side with his hand as she tosses the offending straw aside.
She’s pinned under him, and the weight of his thick, muscled chest atop her is delightful, and the knee he’s angled between her own is like an unspoken request that she wrap herself around him that she can’t wait to fulfill.
“Tristan.” She puts a hand to his chest to stop him as he leans in for another kiss. “Before we…” she trails off with a blush and a vague wave of her hand.
“Are you nervous?” And then understanding dawns on his face. “You’ve never bedded a man, is that it?”
“No, no! I have!” She hopes he doesn’t catch the “once” she adds under her breath. “It’s just that, well, the future of this, er, relationship… I cannot promise-”
“That again?” His laughter is contagious, even if hers is uneasy. “I thought I told you I don’t care.”
And then there isn’t any room for more words. Her lips are too busy pressing themselves to his.
Main entry
Timeframe : 1260
They’re laughing and breathless and rolling together, all lips and hands and… lying in a hayloft.
“This has to be the most absurd place,” Ski starts, as she pulls away for a moment to relieve herself of a bit of straw that’s been poking her in the ribs. They’ve been sneaking about, kissing in corners and corridors for weeks, but this is the first time it’s gone this far. She’s on her back, in the hay, half out of her dress, and wondering what’s possessed her not to stop as she has before.
Tristan’s grinning that big, dopey grin of his. “I offered my bed,” he says, quick to fill the void at her side with his hand as she tosses the offending straw aside.
She’s pinned under him, and the weight of his thick, muscled chest atop her is delightful, and the knee he’s angled between her own is like an unspoken request that she wrap herself around him that she can’t wait to fulfill.
“Tristan.” She puts a hand to his chest to stop him as he leans in for another kiss. “Before we…” she trails off with a blush and a vague wave of her hand.
“Are you nervous?” And then understanding dawns on his face. “You’ve never bedded a man, is that it?”
“No, no! I have!” She hopes he doesn’t catch the “once” she adds under her breath. “It’s just that, well, the future of this, er, relationship… I cannot promise-”
“That again?” His laughter is contagious, even if hers is uneasy. “I thought I told you I don’t care.”
And then there isn’t any room for more words. Her lips are too busy pressing themselves to his.