Hut-cabin-thing christening

[forthedog]

(continued from here)

It's as he pulls her into the cabin and kicks the door shut that he realizes that he hasn't had her here, not since the change occurred. There's something about a cabin that makes it seem cozier. And more conducive to this.

The interior is dim, lit only by the thin light from the one window, but that doesn't much matter. It's warm, and the pile of quilts that serves as his bed will be even warmer. He drops his jacket heedlessly onto the floor and hooks a hand around her waist, pulling her firmly against him and bending to capture her mouth with his, his other hand cupping her face. "Missed this," he growls.

Comments

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She moans against the kiss, loud already, her body pressed tight against his. He's always so warm, even when he's naked and next to her in the middle of the night.

"Missed what?" she teases, smile lifting the corner of her mouth. "I...don't know what you mean."

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Don't you?" He chuckles and tugs her coat off her shoulders, his other hand already working at the sweater underneath. That's one thing he doesn't love about the snow; everyone's wearing so many clothes. "I'll show you."

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

"Mmmmm...I thought you might."

She tugs at her sweater, eager to have it off but just as eager for him to be frustrated because it made him less careful.

She let him pull at the sweater. It was his anyway.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

He gets the sweater off over her head and it goes down with her coat, added to the growing pile of clothes at their feet. His hands move back down to her hips, pulling her against him and sliding up, pushing her shirt up over her stomach.

This always happens. He wants to slow down, he really does. "This is the first thing I missed," he says, his fingers tracing over the underside of her breast through her bra.

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She quirks an eyebrow, still almost smiling, though she does arch her back to press into his touch. She's wearing the underwear that she arrived in, grey silk.

"These? I carry these around all day."

She smirks up at him.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, and it isn't looking at them I miss," he says, smiling as his lips drift over her cheekbone. His hands move higher, pushing her shirt high enough to expose her belly, and then he stops, both hands cupping her breasts now, a slightly puzzled expression on his face.

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She made a soft sound of pleasure, leaning into his hands. Just the feel of his palms through fabric felt amazing, and...

She looks up into his face, puzzled.

"What?"

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Okay," he says, hands still cupped against her, almost weighing her. "So, you're going to think I'm crazy, but I think they're... bigger." He wonders what would do that. Surely the snow couldn't be responsible, whatever else it's doing to her, because that's... ridiculous, is why.

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She frowns and presses her hands over his for a second.

"You're right. You're crazy."

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

He shrugs and then grins a little crookedly, his hands starting to knead her again, slowly, hungrily. "It's a good crazy."

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She moans, softly. It feels as though it's been so long that her entire body is sensitive and screaming for him. She presses against him, one hand sliding down from the small of his back to squeeze his arse.

"It's a good thing I find your crazy endearing."

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Very good." His breath hitches slightly at her hand on his ass and his hips push forward against her, involuntarily. And suddenly he doesn't really want to be involuntary. He wants something else. "Stop," he murmurs, grazing his teeth against her jaw as his hands drop to her waist again.

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She has her hand tucked into the back pocket of his trousers, kneading firm muscle with the heel of her hand.

She blinks at him.

"Stop?"

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

He nods and steps back a little, one hand still on her waist and the other moving up to her hair, gently tugging it free of the ponytail. "Take everything off," he says quietly, "and go wait on the bed for me."

He's not entirely sure where this is coming from, but he has a sneaking suspicion that it has to do with black satin.

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She blinks at him, colour rising in her face at the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes but she's tugging her t-shirt up over her head all the same. It doesn't occur to her to argue with him, because she utterly knows that he wouldn't do anything she wouldn't like. Boots and socks and horrible trousers follow, which leaves her in her underwear. She unhooks her bra easily, weighing her breasts in her hands for a second before hooking her thumbs under the elastic of her panties and pushing them down.

It's a few steps to the bed, and she sits down, her knees drawn up against her chest and waits for him.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

He watches her as she moves, eyes roaming over her, finding a little center of stillness in him and holding onto it. His gaze follows her clothes as they drop to the floor and then when she's there and waiting for him he bends, unlaces his boots and pulls them off and then steps forward, slowly. "Lie back," he says, voice very low.

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

That tone of voice sends a shiver right through her, as she lies back on her bed, her blonde hair fanning out under her, her knees still bend, her feet slightly splayed and her hands resting lightly on her breasts.

It takes a lot of effort not to lift her head to watch him.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

When he gets to the bed he kneels, still in camo and his t-shirt, and looks at her for a long moment before laying a hand softly on her throat, resting there for a moment and then stroking downward, over her collarbones, between her breasts and over her ribs and stopping just at her lower belly. His face is carefully impassive and he might be thinking, but he isn't. He knows what he's going to do.

"I love you," he says, because he wants her to know.

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She smiles, utterly sweetly, and nods, her hips lifting just barely against the touch on her belly.

"I know. I love you too."

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

He smiles back at her and bends and kisses the side of her breast, gently, before turning away and rummaging in the loosely folded pile of clothes by the bed, where they're easily accessable. He hasn't gotten rid of the shirt he'd used to bandage her hand, and after a few seconds search he finds it. He grips the bottom and tears off another long strip of cloth, making it most of the way around. Turning back to her, he drops the shirt to the side and looks down at her, considering.

"If you don't like this," he says, "if you want me to stop, just tell me." He's pretty sure she wouldn't, but there's no harm in saying it.

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

His mouth on her breast draws a small sound and a ripple out of her and she turns her head to watch what he's doing.

When he speaks to her, she nods.

"Yes. Okay."

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

He nods and runs his free hand over her shoulder and down her arm, a strange little smile still tugging at his lips. "Put your arms over your head," he says. "Wrists together."

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She hesitates for a minute, contemplates being difficult, not making this easy, but there's plenty of time for that. She lifts one arm and then the other, crossing her wrists over her head, the movement lifting her breasts, just a little.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

His breath catches as the raise of her arms lifts her breasts, (and God, they are bigger, whatever she says), and he can't resist cupping one again, circling her nipple with his thumb. But he can't be distracted, not just now. He rises up on his knees and leans over her, takes the long strip of cloth and slowly wraps it twice around her wrists and once between them, finishing with an overhand knot. It feels secure but not too tight, and he bends back down and kisses her softly. He feels a strange need to go gently here, at least right now.

"Okay?"

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

When he touches her breast, the movement of his thumb rubbing her nipple hard, she shivers, her eyelashes fluttering and her knees drifting apart.

When he's finished tying her hands, she tests the bindings, doesn't struggle but pulls at them a little, and then nods, just once.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

He stays back just long enough to register the nod and then leans in and kisses her again, harder now, his tongue forcing its way past her lips, unable to stop the low moan that forces its way up his throat. Moving almost casually, he traces a single finger down the line of her neck, drifting in lazy circles over her skin.

[flowers-on-skin.livejournal.com]

She presses up into the kiss as much as she can with her hands tied over her head. It feels like almost forever since he touched her this way (it can't be that long, can it?), and she echoes his moan, every inch of her bare skin burning for him, the light touch somewhere near maddening already...

...which means that this can only get worse.
Which might be nice.