distractly | CC: INBOX.

( for isabelle it's never been a matter of who came first, undoubtedly there will be times when she gets on her knees for him, when she takes him into the heat of a ruby-rimmed mouth and waits for him to weep his own finish just like he is now with her—it only shows how tightly wound she is with the need to hold some sort of power, how difficult it is to truly allow herself to lie there against his mouth and accept every praising swipe of his tongue. it's clear indication of all the stress she's swallowed, all she's carried around with her, how she slowly, breath by stumbling breath gives in to him, as if she'd ever had a choice.

his words register slowly, drawing teeth at her own lower lip, and it's the hand cupping at a single, full breast that leaves brows furrowing to a whimper. it's all the more encouragement to let go, let herself exist only as the climb of heat that burrows betwixt her hips, the way he effortlessly builds her with his dedication alone. a pant of an exhale, temple pressing to the side to glance down at him, mouth wet and gleaming with her as he moves. )

Keep touching me, Baby. ( a plea, solidified all the more by a single hand retreating from his hair, running fingertips up along the span of bicep, forearm, and gradually she begins to allow hips to give slight, rhythmic little waves up against his mouth, following the pace of a delving tongue, suckling lips, wherever he travels. opposite hand grasps with all the more fervor into his locks-not enough to steer him, for once all too content to follow. )

[ He is all too willing to keep touching her. There's nothing he wants more, than to keep touching her. He pushes up on his knees a little, changing the angle slightly, the hand that was over his own crotch moving to wrap one of her thighs over his shoulder before it returns to staving off coming in his pants once more before he gets to discover the feeling of being inside her. His other hand stays on her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers as he dives back between her legs, louder now, wetter, a little more frantic.

He doesn't want to ever have to stop touching her. Now that he knows, what she looks like, smells like, tastes like, what she feels like in his arms, it's hard to even think of having to get out of her bed at some point, go to work and live his life like he doesn't want to live and breathe Isabelle.

If only making her come could be a full-time job.

But as it is, he just dedicates himself to the task, right now, feeling her move more intently, get louder, and pulling on that thread of her control, wanting her to let go of it entirely. He moans against her again, louder this time, panting hard as she rolls her hips, and he drags his lips against her, sucking and licking and kissing.]

( it isn't hard to guess where that twin palm of his has fled to, even with the burning touch he leaves behind along her thigh, heel pressing into the broad, upper-span of his back—body moving of it's own volition, now, just as he'd asked. for her to move unforgivingly with and against him, to seek out her own little angles while he simultaneously finds them, rewarding him with a bit harsher of tugs every time he licks to one of those favored spots, every time he finds a rhythm against her clit that sends her whirling all the closer to her end.

it's difficult, keeping herself together when he dines on her so enthusiastically, when she can hear how wet he's made her, how he takes care to lap up every single drop of her, to make a mess of her only for him to enjoy. she's not as finessed, ridden in need rather than composure, want rather than an unwavering control, and it shows in the stutter of her hips, how they chase his tongue and how they seize when he sweeps it inside of hot walls.

it's that—his eagerness, the unison of lips and tongue and the faintest hint of teeth, fingers toying at the pink rise of her nipple, the image of him staving off his own end that builds merely by tasting her. dizzied, all she can do now is keep eyes tightly fastened to a close, grasps telling against her arm, within his hair, and it's once he finds her clit again, moans against it to send a delightful vibration against the hood of her that she's entirely unaware of how loudly she moans, how desperate she sounds—a fire taking to the pyre beneath her navel instantly as she builds. )

Fuck— Baby, right there. ( a shiver trembling through her body, pulling rather harshly at his hair, keeping him buried against her as if unwilling to lose that maddening rise of white heat that takes her over. )

[ Relentlessly, he stays right where he is as he feels her whole body row tenser, the air around them growing electric, the urgency increasing tenfold as her thighs clench around him and she tugs on his hair more and more, as her hips rise off from the bed in tiny movements.

He stays right against her and keeps doing exactly what he was doing, and breathes hard as he slips his hand inside his jeans, only to circle the base of his dick with his fingers, holding on tight as the mere feeling of Isabelle like this is sending lightning straight down his body.

She might be the death of him, but he'd take it. What a way to go it'd be. ]

( he knows he has her, she can feel the surety in how he only doubles the effort put forth at that particular spot, the hunger while he practically feasts at the sweetness between her thighs; she's helpless to him, the perfect tandem of his tongue against her clit, working her just how she needs it, mouth locked yet sliding given how wet she is, how she still can't keep still against him, but it's enough to edge her closer. closer, yet, to a point where mind spins almost in begging to break, to release the pocket of heat that rings even to fingertips, to the curl of toes at his back.

there's a moment when the noises between them—the crisp sound of pants meeting one another, groans muffled against silken lips and her own melodiously filling the room unashamedly—where everything hushes to a deafening static, where she seems to suspend in a tantalizing limbo that sets each of her nerves on fire. it holds her for a second, two, three before her inners contract, and that orgasm shatters over her with a gasp.

it takes her with it, rippling slow, pressure-filled rocks against his mouth to draw out every numbing wave, crying out in sync with every motion, every pull that draws down along her abdomen, knuckles gone white in his hair and opposite clasping to the sheets beside her. sharply yanking at both, tiny curses along with bits and pieces of his name breathlessly calling from her. )

[ As Isabelle clings to him, as she comes against his mouth, Baby just presses closer, fingers digging into her thigh as he holds her through it, not so much moving anymore but letting Isabelle take the lead. He stays right between her legs as she rides her orgasm, looking at her with hunger. ]

I've never seen anything this beautiful before.

[ He straightens out just to be able to look at her more, his heart thundering in his chest as he takes Isabelle in, hands moving up and down her thighs, mouth open and shiny with Isabelle. He doesn't think he will ever get bored of watching this - it seems impossible that there would be a time where he doesn't find her to be the most amazing person he's ever got to hold. ]

Fuck, Isabelle, I'm - [ Absolutely dying right now. ]

( it takes her a moment once that last, pulsing wrung tugs through her to gather herself, to bring herself back to the present, to baby still kneeled between softly-trembling thighs. it isn't long til mind's threading back through how he'd taken her, when one hand had disappeared off to likely stave himself, provide some sort of relief to keep from finishing without truly having her. she's almost in a daze, but it's difficult to keep that hunger at bay for long with him, what with how his lips gleam proudly and he struggles to keep himself together.

she doesn't want him to. )

Come here. ( spoken around a faint whimper, body none to willing to go to far other than sitting up to encourage him closer, getting him to stand while she props herself at the end of that bed upright. small fingers take to the fastening of his jeans, black hair spilling down her back as she looks up at him, watches him—she doesn't move slow purposefully, entranced still by the state of his mouth and the need that's grown boldly in his hues.

button pops, zipper soon to follow and she's tugging that denim layer to his thighs, unabashed in the way she finds the length of him, hard and wanting, with her own palm, shaky exhale leaving her. it's only then that eyes leave his in favor of leaning in, brushing her lips just above the waistband of his briefs. )

[ He's all too eager to follow her softly worded command, pulling up towards her when she sits up, her hands going immediately to his jeans. He helps as he can, pushing them down to his knees once she's had them open, but his thoughts and movements falter when she wraps her hand around him, his head tilting back with a loud gasp, echoing in the otherwise silent room. He shivers, swallowing when he looks back down and Isabelle is leaning in, kissing him.

He swallows with difficulty again, his whole body on fire as he attempts to find his words. ]

If you - do that, I'm not going to last.

[ It's earnest and truthful - if she wants to give back in the same way, he's going to come in seconds and he won't have a chance to feel how it is to be inside her, which - he does, God, he so does. His muscles contract under her mouth, his hands flexing into her thighs, goosebumps rising along his arms.]

Oh my God, I want you so much.

( she revels in his gasp, and while she hadn't intended to return his favor entirely in kind (tonight, anyway) she couldn't help herself from planting kisses between his hips. it's rare that solely haste finds her, and maybe it's because of that dazed lull he'd left awash across her figure, how she's still left clasping thighs together—but she recognizes the desperation in his tone. one that pleas with her not to take her time, not now, to let him bury within her and save the heat of her mouth for another night.

a small hum left against his skin. fingertips hook within elastic, tugging that last layer keeping them apart down to thighs, knees, leaving them then for him to step out of. )

You have me, Baby. ( the thought arises then that she should leave that bed and dig for a condom, but she's on the necessary means of protection, and there's a need settled deep in the pit of her chest to feel nothing but him—she's tired of things keeping them apart, wants nothing between them, and she's prepared to reassure him should he find any worry toward it.

she could lay back, let him find home between her thighs again, but she's intent to give back for how he'd treated her, and so rather than get comfortable once more she's standing on shaky limbs, reversing their positions so he's left sitting against the edge of that bed, left to scoot back with the guidance of her body crawling over him hand and knee. )

[ It's not worry, just habit. When Isabelle reverses their positions, Baby kicks off the rest of his clothes and looks up at her, awe and hunger having taken the biggest spots in his eyes, in his brain, not giving him much place for anything else. But he still thinks of it - he's never had sex without a condom and it's never been something he's forgotten, but he sits there for a moment, his legs shaking and words difficult to come out when his tongue feels huge and unwieldy in his mouth. ]

Condom?

[ It's the best he can manage, as he starts to lie back when Isabelle crawls over him, her knees to his sides and her hands on his chest and her breasts against his skin, nipples dragging against him and making him gasp, his eyes closing even though he wants to look, look, look. He doesn't have the wherewithal for it, has to tilt back and press himself to the mattress and let his hands find her hips, flexing into muscles. His lips feel dry, his own pelvis rolling up unconsciously at the thought of Isabelle so close, yet still so far, making him keen, noises high-pitched in the back of his throat. He's never felt like a needy kind of guy, before, but there is nothing else right now than how much he needs Isabelle. ]

( the last thing she wants him to take her as is irresponsible, she has what she needs in terms of protection, and maybe it's naive of her, maybe a little to trusting to go forth with the comfort that if there was any sort of risk, he'd of told her by now. his comfort would come far above a mere preference, and any other man she'd gotten into bed with, she'd been the on insisting. regardless of impatience, of need thrumming between them. )

It's okay.

( a whisper, a promise. it'd never been like this. no one had ever so much as a touched on what baby made her feel, so she doesn't let that confidence waver, all the more tempted to just melt against him when those large hands of his bracket her hips, steadying her in their clasp. she can feel him rut up against her, single hand twining into the sheets beside him as she ducks in to graze her mouth along his jaw, keeping pressed to her knees just enough to drift free hand between their figures, finding the base of him with her digits and wrapping around his width in order to guide him.

the moment plush head teases against her lips, a ragged little exhale stumbles free, finding herself nose to nose with him once more as she aligns his cock at her entrance. she's thoughtful in the way she takes him, both hands sliding up into the sheets once she's pressed him in an inch, mouth slowly parting around a pant when hips give a smooth, single grind to press him fully inside, his name falling from her tongue like a prayer. )

[ She says it's okay, and Baby believes her. He doesn't trust anyone the way he trusts Isabelle - no one, bar Debbie, has ever given him reason to trust in this way. But his faith in her is as steady as his heartbeat is wild, right now, and when she sits herself on top of him, he reaches out, hand clasping hers as he bucks, his whole body tensing as he pushes up inside her.

He lets out a strangled noise, fingers tight around hers when she's seated atop him, his cock as deep as it will go inside her, the two of them on her bed, quiet if not for their labored breathing, for the sounds of skin against skin, of hands skidding against the sheets. Baby opens his eyes, looks up at Isabelle above him, looking powerful and amazing and feeling like nothing he's ever felt before - tighter and wetter and more welcoming. He opens his mouth, wanting to have the words to describe her, to tell her how he makes her feel, but not managing them. All he can do is hold on to her, looking at her like she is the sun itself, moving his hips in fractions. ]

( she's eager to take the seeking clasp of his hand with hers, folding their palms together, pressing them to the cushion of the mattress as she nearly falls forward over him. it takes a great deal of discipline not to lay completely against his figure, still too intoxicated by the way his skin feels on hers, heady and warm and all too welcoming. it's a moment before she adjusts, velveteen walls fluttering appreciatively around him, and it's when piercing gaze of his aligns with her own that she's given a bout of fire to move.

isabelle keeps herself propped using that single hand, laced with his, the other cupping at the column of his neck, thumb pressed to the line of his pulse, savoring the way it thrums so lively, so full of reverence. and it's with a second, hearty moan hidden against the pout of his lips that hips withdraw, leaving only the plush of his tip buried inside, before she takes him again.

fully, hips slotting perfectly together as they greet once more, and it's such rhythm she sets—something steady, breath pressed from the bed of her lungs every time he stretches her apart, black sweep of her hair falling messily along a single temple. for what she can, she keeps her gaze alight with his, attempting to fight off that urge to close and lose herself to him, but the way he looks at her... the way he's always looked at her, keeps her from giving in just yet. )

[ His stomach swoops with every move of her hips, the feelings taking over him way too much to deal with, and he just lets them overwhelm him, lips parted as he looks at her with glazed-over eyes, each breath feeling like it's about to be his last. His fingers squeeze hers, their eyes meeting for a split second, his world feeling shattered by how she looks at him, by the look on her face as they move together, pleasure making her skin flush in the most beautiful sight.

He would stay exactly where he is, like this, forever, if he could, but - the need to touch her, to feel her skin against his, is overtaking everything else, and Baby finds himself sitting up, changing the angle as he buries his face in Isabelle's neck, strands of her hair sticking to his lips. He wraps both his arms around her, fingers digging into her shoulderblade and her hip, pulls her to him like he wants to fuse them together, wants to be unable to tell where she starts, and where he ends. His world entirely reduces to this, this moment now, Isabelle against him and his cock buried deep inside her, the sensations setting his nerve endings alight, playing a symphony in his head. ]

( she moves easily with him as she always has, fingers finding one another blindly in the dark, limbs moving together even within sleep to leave them intertwined through the late and morning hours. it does, however, allow him deeper into the hot clasp of her walls, causes them to flutter again and pull a gasp from her chest, letting go of his hand in favor of raveling both arms around him. there's no part of her willing to cease the roll of her hips, adjusting again to the way she needs to move, with him now rather than against him, heels tucked at the lower of his back.

everything's a daze, the way lips stumble against his temple, fingers fist up into his hair to keep a steady clutch of him while she moves, while hips grow a little more greedy in their pursuit. ) God, Baby- ( a tremble of a moan, tipping head to the side to give him the proper room to explore her neck, the rapid thrum of her pulse and the thin sheen of sweat coating sun-kissed flesh.

she doesn't need it to be messy, full of haste, but there is an underlying need that blooms and demands all the more of her attention. encourages pace to climb that littlest bit faster, nails scoring along the broad plane of his back as she rocks into his lap. )

[ When he's been thinking of sex with Isabelle, it's been a whole mix of images and ideas and dreams moving around in his head, without much head or tail to it, but one thing was for sure - no thought or dream could ever come close to the real thing. No dream could ever attempt to reach the level of feeling Isabelle against him, her lips dragging against his skin, her hair brushing his fingertips, her nails digging into his back, her hips moving into his, her heat setting him alight.

Unconsciously, he bites at her neck - gently still, as much as he can, his tongue running up along the rune there, as he clings to her tightly and moans desperately at the feelings every single rocking of her hips brings, fireworks exploding through his brain with every noise she makes. The two of them are pulling and pushing against each other, the bed creaking slightly under them, and Baby knows he's not going to last,
not when she feels so good he can't breathe, in the very best way he's ever felt in his life.

He runs a hand through her hair, grabbing a fistful of it as his lips drag up her chin for a breathless kiss, the two of them swallowing each other's noises. ]

( she's never been able to put the entirety of a night with him together, not in her mind—it's always a splintering of interrupted images, the thought of his hands brushing over her hips translating then to how they'd feel brushing between her thighs, how they'd feel gripping her versus merely grazing. it's that fist in her hair that grounds her again from the spiral of heat that begins a second climb within her abdomen, slow and almost tantalizing.

a soft whine is hidden into the cave of his mouth, brushing distractedly through as she keeps him clasped there, open to catch the stumbling of her breaths, the pieces that are laced with his name, a slip of her accent, mierda, thoughts a blur of multiple languages of profanities and prayers. it's tell tale, just as she imagined it'd be, when he's reaching his end, just as she'd inch by inch seemed to lose control of her figure when his mouth was buried between her thighs.

it's that same desperation, now with much more hearty a control, that drives her faster in his lap—and faster still. all she has is the sounds that tumble from her tongue to tell to let him know, the angle causing him again to brush against swollen clit with every fluent grind. an unintentional bite to his upper lip, cries flushed and cheeks just as so, a mere moment from toppling over the edge. ) Baby, I'm gonna— ( broken against his mouth, rushed, thighs and arms encircled impossibly tight around him. )

Edited 2017-10-09 17:01 (UTC)

[ It builds and builds, between them, the tension and the noises and the kisses, the breathless pants, the rocking. It's like a whirlwind, and Baby clings to Isabelle, an anchor in the storm of sensations that's taking over him. He drops his other hand to Isabelle's ass, squeezing, pulling her tighter to him, the two of them growing more frantic.

When she speaks, Baby groans, hips thrusting up into her, lips sticking to Isabelle's, his whole body tensing up in this telling way, muscles hurting in the perfect counterpoint to how good Isabelle is making him feel. ] Yeah, yeah -

[ He's so close he's shaking with it, the noises he's letting out far away from words, as he's listening to Isabelle, and he moves faster, faster, until he's gone, choking on breaths as he buries his face in Isabelle's neck, coming hard enough he's feeling like he's about to cry. ]

( she's barely able to fully appreciate that palm clutching at her bottom, too taken by the tendrils of fire that lace intoxicatingly through each limb, how he hits all too sweetly against that spot she direly needs him at, every thrust bringing her closer, closer, til once more she's suspended on that breathless edge and left grappling to any bit of stability she can find.

it's his groan, the way it sparks yet another pyre within her lower body, the way he chases her hips just as frantically as her own rock to his, and as unlikely as it's always been, always seemed to be pulled through an orgasm right along with another, she can't hold on with the way he sounds, how he breaks in her arms, cradling him all the while as she comes again for him, because of him.

even as those waves begin to dull, soften, she makes no effort to lessen her hold of him, fingers knotted within his hair turning to a smoothing pet, almost absentminded, forehead falling in to the side of his neck while eyes close, raggedly breathing around the rapidity of her heart. each of her muscles feels worn, delightfully worked, having part a mind to slip herself off of him—but she doesn't, not yet. not when they're still a stumbling of exhales in attempts to catch up, to still, sweat a thin gleam at her temples and both her skin and his own hot to the touch, painted in blushes of red. )

[ He's still shivering and shaking from his own orgasm when he feels Isabelle follow him down this cliff, and he holds her through it, breathing hard against the damp skin of her neck, his eyes forcefully closed as he lets the sounds of her wash over him, take over any kind of ringing in his ears. Every shiver wracking his body feels so good, like another small explosion of feelings and pleasure, rushing up his spine and making him hold on tighter to Isabelle.

It takes him a while to be able to form thoughts again, and when he does, he still can't make them out into words, his mouth refusing to catch up to his brain. His hand moves up again, holding Isabelle to him in a hug as he thinks about how nervous he was, for tomorrow and then just to please her, to be able to get her where he wanted her to go so badly it made him ache. He didn't think this would happen - not even after the energy festival, not quite yet, not with everything else happening.

But he is certainly not complaining. He lays kisses along the curve of her shoulder, lying back down on her bed and pulling her along with him, chuckling as he does. ]

( there hadn't been any sort of hidden intentions when she'd invited him over, wholly content to soothe the nerves wracking through him for the following evening, to press those peppered kisses to his lips as promised as if confidence could flower from the action alone. everything with them had always fallen into place, and never once had she questioned it, hesitated if not upon initially realizing that she felt for him. it was still something she didn't entirely know how to word, when those three little words would roll off her tongue—but she'd let them come on their own.

he lays back and she still hasn't encouraged lids to open, tucked under the line of his jaw where she starts laying a line of petite, tender pecks. his chuckle causes brims to spread into a grin, soundless save for a quiet hum, eventually, eventually pulling hair off to one side in order to pull herself up just enough, hips still connected and muscles within her thighs quivering, as if about to give, and searches for his gaze.

a kiss to his chin, beneath the full spread of his lower lip, smile still sure and wide across her own. ) Hi. ( whispered through a chimed snicker. )

[ He tries not to wince when he feels Isabelle move - it's never, exactly, the most pleasant moment, but he relaxes when she settles against him once more, her lips to his skin making his eyes flutter shut contently.

He lets his fingers trace random shapes on the skin of her back, feeling bumps of old scars there - nothing he doesn't have himself, even if he can imagine that the circumstances in which they've acquired them are very different. He still feels like he could spend hours learning the shape of Isabelle, what makes her giggle and what makes her sigh, what parts of her are more sensitive than others, where he shouldn't touch. He's eager to be able to know these things about her.

When she speaks, he opens his eyes, looking down with a grin. ] Hi. [ Free hand reaches up to her cheek, thumb brushing her skin. ] That was... unexpected.

( she's careful to keep her hips still atop him, not wishing to overstimulate either of them, body's undoubtedly still teeming with release, tempted to sink down against one another and stay put for the rest of the later hours. there's a quite thought in the back of her mind that wonders what it is that happens from here, how it might change them, if at all, now that they've begun to learn one another in every sort of vulnerable light.

that grin of his washes her with an other sort of warmth, electric and kind, another laugh bubbling freely against his mouth while she slowly nudges her nose against his own, twice to each side with lids lazily blinking. ) A little bit. ( a nod around the words, teeth claiming at the bed of her lips, savoring the taste of him that still lingers there—sweet and entirely his own.

a tiny kiss planted against his mouth, first upper brim and then the lower, resting at her elbows while a single hand curls back in order to run it's palm through his hair. it'd be all too easy to gently slide him out of her, curl up at his side and fall asleep to the slowing thunder of a pulse against his chest—however, the thought of a shower also crosses her mind, unsure of whether or not he was entirely willing to move himself. )

Unexpected good, or...? ( the words fade off into a whisper, single brow raising at their end. )

[ Settling with Isabelle on top of him, it's actually - despite the fact that it shouldn't be comfortable, it is. He doesn't really want to move anywhere, or do anything than hold her close. He knows it's not exactly like he can stay here forever, but for right now? It's just perfect.

When she speaks, he raises an eyebrow himself, hardly believing she'd doubt it in any way, shape or form. But he's feeling the same way - wondering if she's going to regret it, thinking they've jumped ahead too fast now, or if she's content with their new state of affairs. ]

Very - very good. [ When he speaks, he lets his face relax into a serious, honest look, meaning it and wanting Isabelle to know he is 100% honest and earnest about it. It feels cheesy, but it seems important for her to know that. ] Yeah?

CC: INBOX.

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