[ even hearing her name from him makes her body respond; she can't step any closer or she knows she'll be begging. this is one of those forced situations and, if not forced, then certainly orchestrated for a reason. ]
The rain. [ she swallows, understanding but not objecting just yet. would it be so bad, giving in like this? letting his hands - she remembers his hands so well - touch her, his mouth roam over her skin, and then she blinks again, the imagery fading only slightly. ] Having you here isn't helping.
[ one hand goes to her neck, the other to the flat of her stomach under her shirt as she attempts to calm her own nerves, anything to stem the rising arousal. every part of her wants to tell him it doesn't matter, but it does. she's never wanted him more than she does right now, and she's not even aware of just how much of that desire and need is projected on her face. on the way she's taken a step toward him. ]
[ His brain is screaming at him but in two completely different voices. One is desperate to leave, but the other is desperate to touch her, to kiss her, to push her up against the wall and fuck her. Not make love to her, but indulge in pure, unadulterated want.
She takes a step forward and his eyes are pleading, too. He wants to go, but it's going to take her telling him to go to make his feet move.
And she doesn't say that. She tells him not to go.
He feels like he's going to implode if he doesn't touch her soon. ]
Please. [ It's a whisper as well, a beg of mercy. But he's struggling against that belief that mercy would be her kissing him. ]
I want you. [ That's all that comes out before the other works choke in his throat. Not "but I should leave" or "but not like this." He just wants her. ]
[ she cannot handle rowan begging, it will absolutely undo her. hearing him say 'please' and imagining him saying that while under her or over her or even on his knees for her - she's not completely unaware of how things work - causes her mouth to open slightly and she hitches a breath, something that catches as she watches him.
he wants her and she's radiating need. it's so easy to cross the room, to close that distance, and she does... most of it. there are several steps left, but can she do this? like this? ]
I need you. [ it's more than want. she can feel her body aching for him in ways she's known since they've met but never been able to act upon. this isn't just want and she'll take the door, the wall, the floor, anything to satisfy the overwhelming longing in her. ] Just--
[ like this? do it? now? she can't finish the sentence and another sound escapes before she can help it. ]
Please.
[ she's reduced to her own begging before she can decide. ]
[ She moves towards him and he lets slip a soft, broken noise, knowing he is not strong enough for this. Stepping forward is not the same as completely closing the distance, but it's so near to it, she is so near that he fists his hands behind him in one last attempt to hold himself back.
But she says please and he absolutely breaks. He cannot help himself and he cannot not give her what she wants.
He surges forward those last few steps, lips finding hers in a hungry kiss, hands finding her hips. He doesn't stop. He pushes her back until she bumps against the wall when he can deepen the kiss; he slides his hands under her shirt until he can push it up and find her breasts. Every move is precise, like Rowan, but also hungry and wanting and a tinge desperate. ]
[ what she wants is rowan and when he breaks, she feels it as much as he does. that closing of distance sends a sense of relief through her that is evident just before he puts his hands on her and stokes the fire all over again, hotter and more intense than before.
she groans into that kiss, a sound that comes needy and desperate and she may or may not look back on that with some kind of embarrassment later. isn't she supposed to be above this kind of debauchery? no one's really talked to her about the feelings or the desires so much as it's been so clinically explained, which makes this just so much more. and it's rowan, so she can't think about what it means.
he loves her, hasn't stopped loving her, and she knows she's never stopped loving him, either. is that what this is? a culmination of all those looks and meetings and--
she's brought back to the present as she helps him with her shirt, finishing removing it as his hands stop on her breasts and she looks at him then, wonder and a hint of delight in the fact that he's there, she's there, and his hands are free to do what they want. ]
I want you.
[ she repeats his words back to him, breathing life into all of it, before she leans in to kiss him again. ]
[ It's dizzying to hear. Not that he thought her love for him before was somehow not tied up in want as well, and it's not as if the words are all that different from the need she only just put voice to. But there's a slight pause around that moment where Rowan is absolutely dumbstruck that this is happening, that she's here and warm and firm beneath his hands.
And then they're kissing again and all thought leaves him.
If he were thinking, he would do this differently. He would take his time. He would see to her first, ease her into this, take care of her needs and let his take a back seat (for a little while). But his cock is hard pressed against her hip, aching to be inside of her. He needs her now.
He abandons his rough caress of her breasts and his hands fall to the fastenings of her jeans, wasting no time in pushing them and her underwear down off her hips. ]
[ the need had been brought on the by the rain she'd exposed herself to by insisting she meet him outside. if she could have spared herself that, she might have been able to resist this, at least in the immediate moment. but the want was something she'd been resisting only because of who they were and only because of where. with the means and the wheres unlocked, and the desire amped up several notches, the want was expressed before she'd found herself ready.
there was no regret, not even when he pushes her jeans down, not even when she's caught back up in emotion mixed too heavily with lust. this is everything she's wanted and never thought she could have.
hands go to his face to keep him from wandering from their kiss again, even has his hands work to free them both from clothing. except-- ]
Off. Rowan...
[ her hands find the hem of his t-shirt and she pulls it roughly in the direction of his head, wanting to see his chest bare, too. ]
[ He doesn't hesitate though he does lean in for as long as possible to hold to that kiss, breaking only at the last possible second to rip the shirt over his head and toss is aside. His mouth finds hers again immediately, hungry and demanding, as he reaches down to undo his jeans, push down the remainder of his clothes.
He presses close to her again, his aching cock now pressing against warm skin and he moans loudly into the kiss. His hands stray to her hips, to the tops of her thighs, gripping and pulling her up until he's lifted her off her feet. He's been to her apartment a few times before, but it's still a bit of a blind walk, kissing her the whole while, before he bumps into the sofa. He lays her down on the seat cushions, following after, breaking the kiss only to pant harshly for breath as he kisses hungrily along her neck. ]
[ it goes against what she knows at her core to be handled the way he's doing it, but it's rowan - something that echoes in her in a way that isn't at all objectionable - and she lets it happen. there's nothing but that return to kisses she's thought about, considered, and dismissed the whole time she's known him and, when he lowers her to the sofa, she feels an absence she's not used to.
distantly aware that he's as naked as she is, citra doesn't hesitate to pull him against her again, her breath catching when he lowers his lips to the rest of her uncovered skin.
It's not enough. she wants to touch him and the way he's covering her, she can't. without thinking, she arches into his mouth, her hands sliding from his hair to his shoulders and down what she can reach of his arms. he's fitter now than he'd been, if it's possible, and even if it weren't for this, she's sure she'd be admiring all of him. how could she not? ]
[ Again, if he were thinking, this would be different. But he can't think, he can barely breathe without the aching need for her driving through his body. His mouth moves down her neck, to her shoulder and back up again, letting out a frustrated little groan before he sits back a bit on his heels. He needs room to breathe but more so he needs to take a moment to pause.
He takes his cock in hand and presses just the tip against her cunt, determined not to move too quickly, to press too hard too fast. He braces himself above her, one hand on the arm of the sofa above her head and the other on her hip. His gaze is on her face as he slowly pushes into her, watching every reaction. ]
[ everything is moving too fast - his mouth over her skin, the kisses that set her body on fire from the inside out - and all too slow at the same time. The way she watches him sit back, the achingly deliberate way he takes himself in hand... it's too relaxed for her when all she knows is that there's more and her blood is heated.
that first press promises more and, when he leans forward again to brace himself, citra arches upward to silently demand another kiss, her hands going to his sides at his ribs to help hold him. to bring him close once more. whatever is next, they'll cross it together, like they've done before. she's ready for this, for him and she lifts her hips to open herself and allow him to slide his cock in.
she can feel it, the tip of him and, in that moment, all she wants is more. ]
[ A fine shudder goes through him as he pushes his cock inside of her, slow and steady, no need to overwhelm and hurt. Her cunt is wet and hot and tempting, but this is Citra. Some part of him refuses to be crude and rough with her, even in his current state.
He's getting what his body needs anyway, isn't he?
Her hands tugging on him make it hard to focus however, and when she arches up for another kiss he's helpless but to give her what she wants. His mouth seals over hers, muffling a deep and needful groan as he bottoms out inside of her.
He doesn't sit still there for very long at all before rocking his hips back and beginning to fuck her. It's that same steady, barely controlled thrust as before, but it only takes a few movements for him to speed up and demand more. ]
[ that first full push of his cock inside her has her groaning against his kiss, too, and she's glad that his mouth is covering hers because it's not the most lady-like sound. it's agonized in all the best ways because she cannot remember anything feeling so incredible and so unfulfilling at the same time. he's there, deep inside her, and her body craves more. more of him, more of this, more of everything.
it's not just the rain; everything they've every done, every touch, every glance... it's all brought them to this, as if she's always known -scythe or not - that she was going to have this with rowan damisch. if not consciously, her body knew it and surrounds him with a wet, pulling heat as he starts to fuck her. only then does she break their kiss and cry out again. ]
Rowan--
[ it's begging and needy and she doesn't even know what she wants from him now that he's given in to this much. her body echoes his movements naturally, the rhythm something that comes as if she's just known what to do. even awkwardly on the couch, she stretches and arches up into his thrusts, every feel of his cock drawing more sounds from her. ]
[ He gasps out her name like a prayer-- if he even knew what that sounds like. But it's awed and overwhelmed and grateful, in a way, utterly lost in pleasure and the moment. He repeats her name as he kisses his way hungrily down her neck, sucking kisses and the bare graze of teeth.
Rowan tries to keep a steady rhythm but cannot help himself. It builds, faster and harder in increments with every thrust. He does not kiss her lips again, wanting to hear her say his name again, wanting to make her gasp and moan and know that he's doing well by the sounds she makes. He's keen to find that perfect balance, that rhythm of exactly what she wants. ]
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The rain. [ she swallows, understanding but not objecting just yet. would it be so bad, giving in like this? letting his hands - she remembers his hands so well - touch her, his mouth roam over her skin, and then she blinks again, the imagery fading only slightly. ] Having you here isn't helping.
[ one hand goes to her neck, the other to the flat of her stomach under her shirt as she attempts to calm her own nerves, anything to stem the rising arousal. every part of her wants to tell him it doesn't matter, but it does. she's never wanted him more than she does right now, and she's not even aware of just how much of that desire and need is projected on her face. on the way she's taken a step toward him. ]
Don't go.
[ it comes out pleading, a whisper. ]
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She takes a step forward and his eyes are pleading, too. He wants to go, but it's going to take her telling him to go to make his feet move.
And she doesn't say that. She tells him not to go.
He feels like he's going to implode if he doesn't touch her soon. ]
Please. [ It's a whisper as well, a beg of mercy. But he's struggling against that belief that mercy would be her kissing him. ]
I want you. [ That's all that comes out before the other works choke in his throat. Not "but I should leave" or "but not like this." He just wants her. ]
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he wants her and she's radiating need. it's so easy to cross the room, to close that distance, and she does... most of it. there are several steps left, but can she do this? like this? ]
I need you. [ it's more than want. she can feel her body aching for him in ways she's known since they've met but never been able to act upon. this isn't just want and she'll take the door, the wall, the floor, anything to satisfy the overwhelming longing in her. ] Just--
[ like this? do it? now? she can't finish the sentence and another sound escapes before she can help it. ]
Please.
[ she's reduced to her own begging before she can decide. ]
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But she says please and he absolutely breaks. He cannot help himself and he cannot not give her what she wants.
He surges forward those last few steps, lips finding hers in a hungry kiss, hands finding her hips. He doesn't stop. He pushes her back until she bumps against the wall when he can deepen the kiss; he slides his hands under her shirt until he can push it up and find her breasts. Every move is precise, like Rowan, but also hungry and wanting and a tinge desperate. ]
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she groans into that kiss, a sound that comes needy and desperate and she may or may not look back on that with some kind of embarrassment later. isn't she supposed to be above this kind of debauchery? no one's really talked to her about the feelings or the desires so much as it's been so clinically explained, which makes this just so much more. and it's rowan, so she can't think about what it means.
he loves her, hasn't stopped loving her, and she knows she's never stopped loving him, either. is that what this is? a culmination of all those looks and meetings and--
she's brought back to the present as she helps him with her shirt, finishing removing it as his hands stop on her breasts and she looks at him then, wonder and a hint of delight in the fact that he's there, she's there, and his hands are free to do what they want. ]
I want you.
[ she repeats his words back to him, breathing life into all of it, before she leans in to kiss him again. ]
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And then they're kissing again and all thought leaves him.
If he were thinking, he would do this differently. He would take his time. He would see to her first, ease her into this, take care of her needs and let his take a back seat (for a little while). But his cock is hard pressed against her hip, aching to be inside of her. He needs her now.
He abandons his rough caress of her breasts and his hands fall to the fastenings of her jeans, wasting no time in pushing them and her underwear down off her hips. ]
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there was no regret, not even when he pushes her jeans down, not even when she's caught back up in emotion mixed too heavily with lust. this is everything she's wanted and never thought she could have.
hands go to his face to keep him from wandering from their kiss again, even has his hands work to free them both from clothing. except-- ]
Off. Rowan...
[ her hands find the hem of his t-shirt and she pulls it roughly in the direction of his head, wanting to see his chest bare, too. ]
no subject
He presses close to her again, his aching cock now pressing against warm skin and he moans loudly into the kiss. His hands stray to her hips, to the tops of her thighs, gripping and pulling her up until he's lifted her off her feet. He's been to her apartment a few times before, but it's still a bit of a blind walk, kissing her the whole while, before he bumps into the sofa. He lays her down on the seat cushions, following after, breaking the kiss only to pant harshly for breath as he kisses hungrily along her neck. ]
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distantly aware that he's as naked as she is, citra doesn't hesitate to pull him against her again, her breath catching when he lowers his lips to the rest of her uncovered skin.
It's not enough. she wants to touch him and the way he's covering her, she can't. without thinking, she arches into his mouth, her hands sliding from his hair to his shoulders and down what she can reach of his arms. he's fitter now than he'd been, if it's possible, and even if it weren't for this, she's sure she'd be admiring all of him. how could she not? ]
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He takes his cock in hand and presses just the tip against her cunt, determined not to move too quickly, to press too hard too fast. He braces himself above her, one hand on the arm of the sofa above her head and the other on her hip. His gaze is on her face as he slowly pushes into her, watching every reaction. ]
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that first press promises more and, when he leans forward again to brace himself, citra arches upward to silently demand another kiss, her hands going to his sides at his ribs to help hold him. to bring him close once more. whatever is next, they'll cross it together, like they've done before. she's ready for this, for him and she lifts her hips to open herself and allow him to slide his cock in.
she can feel it, the tip of him and, in that moment, all she wants is more. ]
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He's getting what his body needs anyway, isn't he?
Her hands tugging on him make it hard to focus however, and when she arches up for another kiss he's helpless but to give her what she wants. His mouth seals over hers, muffling a deep and needful groan as he bottoms out inside of her.
He doesn't sit still there for very long at all before rocking his hips back and beginning to fuck her. It's that same steady, barely controlled thrust as before, but it only takes a few movements for him to speed up and demand more. ]
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it's not just the rain; everything they've every done, every touch, every glance... it's all brought them to this, as if she's always known -scythe or not - that she was going to have this with rowan damisch. if not consciously, her body knew it and surrounds him with a wet, pulling heat as he starts to fuck her. only then does she break their kiss and cry out again. ]
Rowan--
[ it's begging and needy and she doesn't even know what she wants from him now that he's given in to this much. her body echoes his movements naturally, the rhythm something that comes as if she's just known what to do. even awkwardly on the couch, she stretches and arches up into his thrusts, every feel of his cock drawing more sounds from her. ]
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[ He gasps out her name like a prayer-- if he even knew what that sounds like. But it's awed and overwhelmed and grateful, in a way, utterly lost in pleasure and the moment. He repeats her name as he kisses his way hungrily down her neck, sucking kisses and the bare graze of teeth.
Rowan tries to keep a steady rhythm but cannot help himself. It builds, faster and harder in increments with every thrust. He does not kiss her lips again, wanting to hear her say his name again, wanting to make her gasp and moan and know that he's doing well by the sounds she makes. He's keen to find that perfect balance, that rhythm of exactly what she wants. ]