someonetowatchoveryou | In Which Our Observer

Her nipples are already freezing, tightening immediately, but...it was worth enduring under the circumstances. His light touches make her suck air, and she has to fight to keep from grabbing his hands and pulling them against her skin. She's supposed to lead him along, not force him.

He seems to have a very sensitive neck, something she makes an immediate note of as she loosens the restricting slip of cloth. She sets the tie aside and is in the business of unbuttoning his collar when he takes hold of her and kisses her properly. "M." is about all she manages before she kisses him back, hungrily, her fingertips dragging lightly down his chest through his shirt.

When the kiss breaks, she nibbles briefly on his lip before moving back a little. She looks down at his chest, then up into his eyes again, and continues unbuttoning his shirt. "You okay with my marking you up a little?"

He does, indeed, have a very sensitive neck. Slipping the tie from his collar causes him to shiver, a very soft, breathless moan escaping him. His breath catches as her fingers work the button on his collar, and that probably explains why his fingers curl in her hair as he kisses her. He's getting the hang of it, now, sucking ever so slightly at her lips, then releasing that, lips moving against hers with a slow rhythm.

In fact, rather a lot of him is sensitive to touch, as he moans softly again at the sensation of her fingers drawing down his chest.

His eyes are lidded and unfocussed when she looks into them, but he's still coherent, breathing heavily. Well... coherent enough to speak, anyway. "I do not know what you mean," he murmurs. As her fingers work more of the buttons free, exposing pale, hairless skin, he shucks off his suit jacket. It was making him far too warm. And it was in the way.

As soon as he drops the jacket, his hands go to her waist, palms warm and dry and soft against her skin, gently sliding up her sides and then to her back. His skin is hectic and his breath heavy and slow, his knees trembling. "Show me," he breathes, lips seeking hers again.

She makes soft sounds of appreciation, her eyebrows rising a bit. When the come up for air she murmurs rather breathlessly against his lips. "Wow. You do learn fast."

She answers the invitation with a lazy and slightly wicked look, and takes hold of both sides of his shirt at the collar, nudging him back toward the bed so he has something under him in case his knees buckle. Her knees always buckle when her neck's worked on thoroughly. Having nippy past boyfriends--some of the blood drinking variety--has intensified certain turn-ons.

Of course they've also taught her to give a damn good hickey. She runs her fingers over his neck, paying close attention to his reactions, and where touching him seems to affect him the most. She takes her time at it, and then leans over to copy the same path with her lips while her fingers finish unbuttoning his shirt.

Her fingers slide over his chest as she bends to run her tongue over a particularly sensitive spot, and then nibble on it lightly, then a little more roughly. Finally, she tires of teasing and closes her lips over his skin to delicately suck warmth to the surface.

Maybe it was a long-buried instinct. Maybe he picked it up from her surface thoughts. But it had simply occurred to him as, well, doing it right. He manages to note that he was correct, but his ability to Observe, or even observe, is swiftly eroding into sensation and he finds he doesn't care in the slightest right now.

When he finds himself steered backward toward the bed by his shirt, he considers himself fortunate because, yes, his knees are going to buckle and probably very soon. Especially with her fingers ghosting over his neck, causing him to shiver and pull in a slow, deep breath when they brushed behind his earlobe... over his pulse... the corner of his collarbone. This last causes his shyly roaming hands to get a little more bold, pressing into the curve of her waist and then sliding to her belly before moving up to gently but firmly cup her breasts, thumbs managing to slide over the nipples. He puts his entire hands into this touch, skin still warm and dry and vibrant.

His breath catches when her lips follow that same path, and his middle twitches under her fingers, especially when she pulls his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. His back is losing strength almost as swiftly as his knees are. His scent surrounds her--cool and outdoors-like and a bit peppery with a warm, pleasant musk lurking under it. His skin tastes... spicy, as though all that capsaicin he eats gets into the skin from the blood. And his blood thrums under her lips, hot and tender. His head has dropped back, baring all of his slender neck and prominent Adam's apple, and his fingers now slip down over her ribs.

His hands twitch against her. His breath shudders. He has lost words entirely, now, and when she sucks wetly at his skin he cries out breathlessly, back arching and pressing his slight, trembling body against her, arms going around her waist, pulling her even closer against him, fingers quivering against her spine. The sensation at his neck intensifies, becoming almost, almost painful, teetering on that edge in a manner completely foreign to him, and he thinks, for an instant, that that spot would bleed. He almost asks her to stop, but that would mean her lips would leave his skin and he cannot let that happen. He thinks... he could weather bleeding a bit for this....

With his body pressed against her, maybe she can feel the heat and swelling below his waist. He is oblivious to it right now. The only thing he knows is her mouth sucking heat and knife's edge pleasure to his skin and their bodies pressed together and... his knees giving out.

He falls backward, arms still tight around her.

She murmurs with pleasure against his skin as he starts exploring her breasts, and arches her back to rub them against his palms. This close, she smells like her citrus body soap, cannabis, the sweet potatoes and green apples she was slicing, clean sweat, and a strange undertone of cinnamon and myrrh that seems to come straight from her pores.

Her belly tightens when he cries out. Goddamn is that gratifying. She eases off the intensity some now that the skin is sensitized, and runs her tongue against him between bouts of marking him. She takes her time, starting to shudder and gasp through her nose a little at his responsiveness but not wanting to rush him. Her hands roam over his skin, exploring him for sensitive spots, sliding over his spine. Not touching his nipples yet, not while he is still trying to stand.

When his knees buckle her hands come down on either side of him to catch them, and she crawls up onto the bed to straddle him. Her hips move very slowly and lightly against him, and she keeps working on his neck until a small but rather dark bruise has set on his skin.

Finally she gently released her lips from his skin and leaned up to look at him. "Let's get under the covers before we forget that it's cold."

He is very responsive, shivering and gasping at each new touch, long, soft moans occasionally riding his breath. He knew, of course, intellectually, that sex was a pleasurable and intense thing but had no idea how much so, until now. A light, tingling fire runs over his skin, muscles in his middle and back twitch with pleasure, and are, in themselves, also pleasure. He had no idea his brain could handle such... sensation.

He shivers hard and another soft cry escapes him when her fingers brush over his spine and again when they move over his ribs. These sotto voce sounds are the most noise he makes, as though he can't quite muster the breath to get any louder.

He scarcely notices how soft the bed is when he lands on it, arching against her as her lips draw blood into his skin. When her hips make contact with his, however lightly, instinct takes over completely and he writhes slowly under her, gasping. His hands slide down her back and under her trousers, seeking more skin. She can feel him growing hard under her tortuously slow-moving hips.

And then her lips leave his neck and he falls back, the strength leaving his spine, but his fingers still tasting her skin. His breath is shuddery and his eyes are half-open. He doesn't speak when she mentions getting under the covers, but he joins her there, anyway, and seems to be catching his breath.

Once they're ensconced in this warm little nest, though, he reaches for her, hands sliding over her ribs as his arms slip around her and his lips seek hers hungrily, now. He's had a taste--more than a taste--and a corner of his mind is a little surprised at how badly he wants more, what kind of desire that's been awoken. He pulls her close but stops, lips sliding from hers. He has never before felt this strange... pulling below his waist. A puzzled look crosses his face.

Well, he's never had an erection before....

She is grinning a little wickedly against his skin as she settles over him, hair brushing against him as she works her mouth. She's still taking her time, pretty much forcing herself at this point, giving him a chance with each new sensation before moving on. When his hands cup her bottom she hums and wiggles slightly, letting the thin cotton slide down her thighs.

Kicking free of her pants and socks, she peels back the layers of comforters for them and snuggles in next to him once he's settled, giggling a little before kissing him back just as enthusiastically. Sex without the usual baggage of "I can't trust you with my secrets" is something she hasn't had in years. She arches against him, rubbing her breasts up against his chest and wrapping her thigh over his hip.

When he pauses she smiles at him curiously, backing off just a little but still holding him. "Hey. Are you all right? Is this making you uncomfortable?" Things seemed okay, but she wants to check.

He doesn't want to stop any of this... it feels so good and even beyond that, he is relishing the chance to simply not think, even for a short time. He is almost frighteningly attracted to her, and he trusts her, and yet....

...this new sensation is the strangest thing he's ever felt. When she asks if he's uncomfortable, he looks down at himself, blinking curiously.

"I am not... uncomfortable," he answers softly. "Only... this reaction... has never occurred before." He has the vague notion that those trousers are going to have to go. Moreover, they are going to have to go very soon. After a moment, his slightly trembling hand takes hers and guides it downward, over his taut middle and further.

And the moment her fingers touch the rather obvious erection, his brain explodes with sensation almost too intense to bear. Unlike what she was doing to his neck, this isn't pleasure bordering on pain as much as it is... pleasure so sharp, so overwhelming, that he nearly feels his consciousness slip.

He moans and his eyes roll back, fluttering, and his grip on her hand shakes and grows weak. "...yes..." he breathes, all he can think of to say to let her know he did not want to stop under any circumstances. "...yes...."

She has to force herself not to giggle as she finally realizes what is going on. "Oh...oh! It's okay, sweetie, that's supposed to ha--"

Her hand contacts the bulge in his trousers and she pauses, her smile taking that wicked cast again at his reaction. "I see. Well." Her fingers gently trace his contours through the cloth, then wander up to his belt buckle to undo it.

"Let's give you some room here." She crouches over him, undoing the zip on his trousers and tugging them down slowly to spring his erection free. Her fingernails brushed up the tops of his thighs and his hips as she drew her hands back up. "...there we go."

She then nestles familiarly against him, helping him kick his trousers the rest of the way down and out of the way. Her fingertips run down his chest toward his belly. "This change will make more sense once you put it to use."

He cries out softly again as her fingers slide over him, almost too much to bear even through the fabric. He wants to feel her fingers on his skin, even as he fears being overwhelmed. The wanting is far stronger, though, and unhooking his belt brings about fresh shivering and moaning and a slow writhing. He's on his back, now, and his hands spread on the surface beneath him as she does this, and his back arches, then drops, hips shuddering and somehow making it easier to slide the trousers away.

He really is truly hairless, everywhere. It's probably a little odd. But the skin is just as soft and heated as a human's. He kicks the trousers and socks away almost desperately, freeing up his legs, which slide smoothly against hers. His breath is hot against her skin, a low moan in her ear and his hands hungrily moving over her, still gentle but much less hesitant, now. His lips leave hot, wet trails over any skin they can reach.

He doesn't speak and his facial expression still hasn't changed, and yet one can tell his usual calm and stoic personality is almost completely submerged. This loss of control should worry him and yet... he finds it exhilarating.

And a little desperate. The softest, gentlest of growls escapes him and he pulls her closer on top of him.

She lets her fingers explore his smooth skin for just a little while, but his desperate sounds and the way he pulls close to her make his needs at the moment pretty damn clear. Her toes curl, and she feels a rush of heat. She's going to enjoy this, probably way more than she should.

"It's okay. Just hold still a moment." Her voice is practically a coo. She crouches over him easily, thighs straddling him high as she takes him lightly in hand. Her smile is gentle and just a bit wicked as she positions his exotically smooth member with her fingers, pushing him inside of her just a little. Then she braces her hands on his shoulders and slowly lowers herself over him. She keeps going, settling down until she sits on his hips. A little, shivering gasp escapes her, and she bites her lower lip, groaning low in her throat. She bears down a little to feel him better, then drags the comforter up over her shoulders and bends over him.

She watches his face in the dim light, hair trailing down to brush the sides of his face now and again as she moves over him slowly. Her breasts slide up and down his chest, and she sighs delightedly. "...there we go."

His skin is hot and soft over bone and twitching muscle, and is slick, now, too, a fine sheen of sweat covering him entirely, making him shine slightly.

His breath is shuddery as her soft, warm fingers play over him, and his hands clutch her legs, shaking with burning need. He suspects he knows, now, why this act is so important to humans... it builds an energy that screams to be released, creates a fire in the nerves. His eyes are closed and he doesn't see her move.

But a throaty moan leaves his lips as she settles over him, slipping him into herself. The fire in his nerves is replaced with a kind of deep-wicking slow voltage that goes all the way into his spine. His hands go to her hips as she eases down onto him, and then cup the curve of her bottom, gently holding her against him, even though his hands still shake. Everything drops away for that moment of hot, soft, pulsing wetness gently squeezing his shaft and sending liquid waves up his spine.

His face is slick and shining in the candle light, eyes closed and lips parted, head tilted back slightly. He breathes so hard and so deeply that his body moves slightly with it. Yet when she starts to move, hips rolling slowly against his, skin sliding wetly, he moans softly again. The gentle, rhythmic movement, tugging and sliding, drops him into a strangely blissful state and his eyes ease half-open, unfocussed, pupils dilated, gazing at her. His hands return to tasting her skin, fingertips dragging slowly and lightly up her sides to stroke the spot just below the back of her neck, then back down her spine.

Words escape him as he sinks into the sensation of her movement and softness and the cool silk of her hair against his face, and his eyes close again. His hands pull gently at her hips in time with this slow rhythm. He seems entirely content with this pace, so far.

It's a rush, riding him gently, watching his face as he discovers these new sensations. As she sees his skin start to glisten with sweat, she lets the comforter fall back off her shoulders and focuses on moving against him.

Her body warms to the feel of his hands, and her breath shudders gently as she murmurs soft encouragement. She shifts position, leaning back a little and tightening her muscles around him. A small whimper escapes her and she speeds her movements a little.

She's strong, and almost tireless, shifting forward to kiss him or rub her breasts against his chest. Eventually, though, she has to brace herself on her hands, taking some of the weight off her thighs so she can move more easily.

Contentment never lasts long during lovemaking, and this time is no exception, especially when she leans back, squeezing slightly and interrupting his low purring sounds with a sudden gasp and violent shiver. Even that small change in rhythm is enough to stir up a hunger, and his hands roam even more boldly, sliding slickly over her breasts, then round her back to drag his fingertips down her spine again. When they reach her hips once more, he pulls them firmly against his, nearly grinding their hips, and a slightly louder moan results. His lips and hands speak of his hunger as he can never keep them in one place for long, caressing and tasting.

When she takes some of the weight off of her legs, his eyes roll back again and instinct reasserts itself. His hips start to move with hers, coming up to meet them, grinding hard, now, yet still slowly.

Something is... growing in intensity between them. Desperation returns, but differently, this time, and he finds himself working to prolong this motion, especially when the rhythm speeds a little more and slips into a beat that can only be described as perfect....

She starts to gasp and whimper at the attention he's paying, arching her back under his nails and letting out a satisfied grunt as he starts pulling her against him. Her muscles tense and she shudders, breath rasping, her murmurs of encouragement becoming more soft and ragged. The feel of his mouth on her makes her fingers dig slightly into his shoulders, and she bears down harder against him.

She's left in an unenviable position: she doesn't want to fight the sensations in her own body but at the same time she really wants to watch him. What was it like when she first discovered this? What will it be like for him? She wants to see his face when he discovers it.

But her thoughts are starting to fragment around the edges in spite of her best intentions. Her toes are curled so hard that they would hurt if her pain sense wasn't dulled by arousal; her breathing's gone completely crazy. But she keeps on, rising and falling over him at just that speed even as her whimpers turn into throaty little moans.

She won't have long to wait. Instinct only carries one so far before it runs up against lack of experience, and the longer that rhythm continues, the closer it drives him to the edge--an edge he wasn't even expecting. He is completely lost in it, mind washing along on a tide of perfect sensation, almost completely unaware of what his body is doing, only knowing what it is feeling. The rhythm becomes desperate, a tarantella that cannot stop, and it has him clutching her, thrusting upward harder, breath coming in fast, sharp panting...

And then he tumbles over that edge. His mind explodes, sweeping his consciousness into exquisite oblivion, and he is completely unaware that his head is thrown back, mouth open, eyes closed, a long, shuddering, breathless cry leaving his throat, and then another. He spasms, gasping, with release, hands clutching at her. Another gasp follows that, and then a long, low, throaty, obscenely sensual groan. Nothing has ever really sounded quite so... orgasmically intoxicated. His head is still dropped back, mouth still open, but relaxed, his body still shiveringly responsive.

She does her best to keep control as he starts to lose his, moving steadily against him as he writhes under her. A grin breaks across her face as she watches and feels him rocketing toward his climax. His frantic movements, though, are hitting all the right spots, and she likes the sudden bit of desperate ferocity. Her breath hitches, and she bites down hard on her lip, a long whimper escaping her.

She holds it long enough to watch his first climax, feel him spasming under and inside of her, and her body tightens around him in almost reflexive response. Her back arches, hips still rocking against him as if determined to draw out his sensations--but she's now shaking hard, her breath coming in little sips. Finally she gives up, one hand sliding between her legs to add a bit of pressure. The sound of delight that escapes her as she contracts around him is almost like a laugh--but she's groaning through her teeth by the end of it.

She manages to settle over him gently instead of collapsing, one hand flailing behind her to drag up the comforter. She can't quite speak just yet.

He's no good for words, either, still catching his breath. But his arms go around her when she settles on top of him and his lips find hers in a breathless snog that grows gentler and lazier until his lips eventually slide slowly from hers and his head drops back.

His eyes ease open after a beat and he looks at her, an unfocussed warmth in his gaze that speaks of deep satiation. This has gone and reached far, far into him and placed something there that will likely take him ages to figure out. But not tonight.

He still can't find words, though, so he simply kisses her again, softly, fingers slipping gently into her hair.

She smiles down at him as she catches her breath, returning his kiss lingeringly and touching noses with him. The sweat's starting to dry on her, and she lingers over him, reluctant to disengage just yet. Her gaze is contented and full of affection--and a little mischief.

"I really liked that." she pets the side of his face. Her hair has gone its usual route of becoming a tangled mess in three seconds, but she doesn't give a damn at the moment.

Then, more seriously and gently: "You ok?"

He slips his arms around her, and doesn't appear to want her to disengage, either, if the slight tightness of his embrace is any indication.

At her question, he opens his mouth to speak, but words fail him. He's far, far better than merely 'okay.' But how to put that across to her?

"I am... much better than that. Let me show you." He slides his hands back up to place them on either side of her face and then pulls her in for a long, slow kiss. And when he does this, he lets everything he's feeling slip into her mind. He is... submerged in bliss, still slightly heated, paused in something a little more than an afterglow. His nerves still sing, but it is a much quieter song, now. He... hovers between satiation and full arousal, and has sunk into it, completely.

"Mmmmnnn. Okay. Not moving." She nuzzles his cheek, enjoying her body's slow aftershocks.

The response to his mental touch is...rather unusual. She welcomes it; seems used to it, though her own telepathic potential is undeveloped. Her eyelids flutter, and she lets out a soft groan against his mouth.

"Oh good." Her nose wrinkles with mischief. "Just making sure I only blew your mind in the good way."

"You did," he whispers. The slightest hint of a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth and he lets his eyes go half-lidded again, though he keeps his gaze on her face, his fingers lightly exploring it like a blind man's, then slipping under her jaw and along her neck.

After a beat, his gaze goes back up to her eyes, if only for a moment. "I think I like this... but I will need more evidence to be certain." Although this is delivered in his usual expressionless murmur, one could swear there was a tiny hint of humour there.

She leans into his touch, smiling lazily...and then bursts into a snickerfit at his conclusion. "Well then. I think I'll thoroughly enjoy providing any kind of evidence required." She walks her fingertips up his chest and boops his nose gently.

"That said I suspect that Dog's going to finish the contents of my fridge out there. Not that I much care."

"Mmmmm." He is a little confused by the nose-booping, but it isn't unpleasant, so he lets the confused thought wander away again.

Truth be told, everything feels good right now, even breathing.

At the comment regarding Dog, he tilts his head slightly. "Are you going to investigate the refrigerator?" Truth be told, if she does, he might be asleep by the time she returns. He would not, however, mind being woken up again, especially if it led to more exploration of these sensations.

What--he's a scientist. He has to collect all the data available.

She lifts her head and grumbles. "Dammit, by now he's probably down to the veggies." Said spirit wanders past the door chomping on a carrot. "...yeah, never mind." She lies back down and snuggles against his shoulder, yawning hugely.

Fair enough.

When she yawns, he can't help but ask, just to be certain. "Do you wish to sleep?" He's drifting, as well, warm and relaxed and loathe to go anywhere.

"Is this why human couples occasionally stay in bed for long periods of time?"

"Mmmm. Little while. Probably wake you up for more eventually unless you've got some...big protest against that." She kisses the side of his neck.

"Yeah, snuggling and sleeping between bouts of sex is my favorite rainy night occupation, if I find the right partner. Lots of people like that kind of thing."

"I do not protest at all," he murmurs sleepily, fingers gently toying with her hair. He can feel sleep stealing over him in this silence, and he lets it do that.

He ponders the idea that he's the right partner of which she speaks, but doesn't manage to do that for very long, thoughts drifting into stillness and then into dreams.

Zzzz....

In Which Our Observer

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