hell_in_highheels | [oom] April Fool's Day

Entry tags:

captainryan,
oom

[oom] April Fool's Day

Oh, River is not a morning person, but this prank requires some dedication and preparation. She has her sonic screwdriver set to wake her an hour before the alarm, and she'd packed the blanket and the picnic basket the afternoon before while he was out running.

The matter of the prank itself is a simple few moments with the screwdriver on the red setting. Quick. Harmless. And best of all, reversible.

She still expects to get a bit of a hiding for it, but he did throw down the gauntlet. Her cheeks ache from grinning at the very thought of the look on his face when he figures out just what she'd done.

Prank accomplished, she slips into her boots and shushes Damocles, swearing him to silence. Rather, bribing him with future promises of bacon. She leaves the note on the pillow and catches herself just before she kisses him on the cheek. If he wakes, the surprise will be ruined before she can make her escape.

Dear Richard~

Have been kidnapped by rabbits. They said something about their pelts being used for "unseemly" purposes. Their leader says, if you ever want to see me again, come alone.

(crudely drawn map of the lake side and the meadow with an X)

Love,
~River

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He worries her mouth nearly as much as he worried her nipple, with a hint more roughness and hunger. There's maple syrup on her breath from the bacon, a dash of rabbit, a hint of wine, and interesting but not unwelcome mix.

His abs are still taut from sitting upright, the first quiver running through them at the exertion. He leans forward further to ease some of the strain, pushing her weight back onto his supporting hand.

The motion draws her hips tight in against his, eliciting a low groan from her throat. She pulls back from his kiss, her voice a low purr. "When we get back, we must try this in a chair."

She pulls back to give him a wicked grin, twisting her hips against him, reiterating her suggestion more directly.

"Need a sturdy chair," he manages, breath hitching as she grinds against him.

"For now, blanket?"

She nods, agreeing to both sentiments. She reaches for the bundle and shakes it out as best she can, not willing to be parted until absolutely the last moment.

There's a bit of a giggle as she untangles herself and lands ungracefully on the blanket. Her hands reach for him as he follows her.

He rolls with a playful growl, positioning himself so his arms are holding him over her, chain dangling between them.

"No twigs, yes?" Better to get that cleared up now while they still have the presence of mind to do so. He starts lowering his upper body anyway, seeking her mouth.

"It's fine," she whispers, rising up to meet his kiss. Her eyes close as she devours him, hungry and intent. Her hands smooth over his chest, up to his shoulders and his neck.

She drinks deeply from his mouth, melting back to the earth, welcoming his weight, her scent rich with the truth of her heart.

Love love love that scent.

Love her, too.

He doesn't allow himself to rest his full weight on her. For starters, it'd be difficult to move down her chin to lip at her throat.

She loves being caged beneath him, loves the feel of his mouth on the sensitive skin of her throat. She gasps at the heat of his tongue against her jugular. Her feet wind around his legs, teasing down the backs of his calves.

Her hands caress his head, trembling like willow leaves in the barest breeze. She gives a shuddering sigh, arching beneath him, wanting his touch.

He goes down to his elbows, gliding down to the hollow of her throat. He licks it once, then blows across it, grinning at her reaction. His hands are somewhat free now, and he uses that to his advantage by gently petting her sides, feather light touches with the tips of his fingers.

"Richard," she breathes his name, a shiver running through her as he teases just along the edge of a tickle, awakening every inch of skin. Her grip on his shoulders tightens and she moans softly.

"Never let me go."

He stops what he's doing (nibbling her collar bone) to inch himself back up so he can see her face. He finds her eyes with his own, unblinking.

"Never."

Only if she asks him to.

She meets his gaze, her expression one of open trust and hope, and love, always love.

Her hand comes up to stroke his cheek.

"Never."

He gives her a short sharp little nod, pushing into her hand, before leaning in to kiss her again.

She meets him halfway, a tender, hungry kiss, her desire for him increasing ten fold with that nuzzle. There is a low whine in her throat.

Her arms wind around his neck and she pulls him close.

Mine, my love. Mine.

Mine, he insists, grinning at the whine. He nuzzles against her cheek and up to her ear before following her jaw bone down to her throat.

Mine.

"Yes," she hisses, feeling the heat of his breath, the softness of his lips and knowing the sharpness of his teeth is not far behind.

She knows it is a submissive thing, this little ritual they have, but it's already embedded in her psyche. The feel of his mouth just there stokes the fire in her belly. Already, he can smell the musk of her arousal rising.

She is not the submissive type but this? This she surrenders to, willingly. She will surrender to this wondrous man, and the expansive sensation he breathes into her, filling her chest and her head.

He snorts once at the scent of her. Then he latches his teeth into the skin of her throat, firmly gentle.

If she wasn't willing, he wouldn't do this. Forcing it on her would do nothing. But accepting it is a sign of trust and love and, yes, a hint of responsibility.

He sinks his teeth in a little more, then releases and nurses the marks he's left.

She arches beneath him, whimpering with pleasure. Her hands slip down to his shoulders, her nails grazing his skin. Her knee strokes along his thigh.

Another inhalation, another bite, another shuddering gasp as he licks and sucks at the angry red crescent. Her hips rise beneath him, grinding against him.

For a moment, she wants him to do it. To break the skin. To penetrate her this way as well. She wants him in her blood. She holds onto that want, holds it tight.

Not now. Not yet.

Not like this. He'd never forgive himself.

He breathes softly over the wet patches on her skin, pursing his lips to keep the flow of air controlled. He works his way lower, pausing to nibble on her collar bone.

Her heart races. Gooseflesh rises beneath his lips, spreading like wildfire down across her chest, down both her arms. Her areolas darken, drawing tight as her nipples harden. Her whole body is awake and alive beneath him. Her head curls towards his, nuzzling in his hair as he unravels her, one kiss, one breath at a time.

One hand trails up the back of his neck, stroking lightly along his hairline, tracing spirals on his skin.

He arches his neck with a happy sound even as he turns his focus to her nipples. They're rather begging for his attention right now, and he's glad to give it. He licks one first, then carefully scrapes his teeth against it before treating the other to the same thing.

And then, while they're still wet, he blows across them.

Her head falls back, her eyes closed, her lips parted. Her spine arches and her palms flatten against his head and neck, not quite pulling his mouth back down to her breast, but certainly letting him know his tactics are having the desired effect. The icy sensation makes her nipples stand to attention, and makes her voice rise in little shivering whines. She bites her lip, bites back the sound, not wanting to seem greedy, but her scent can't hide.

Good thing he likes that sound, eh? Means he's doing his part right.

He returns to worrying her peaks, nibbling lightly. He shifts his weight partially to one side so he can bring his hand up her thigh, testing the defences of her skirt.

The touch of his mouth on her skin and she cries aloud. Her hands grip the back of his head and neck, unconsciously pulling him close even as she tries to keep a modicum of control. Her face twists in a grimace of pleasure and she vibrates in time with his flickering tongue.

She can feel the calloused skin of his hand stroking up the outside of her thigh, slipping over her skin. She opens to him.

He's delighted to find no knickers. He has to shift himself around again to have best access, but soon enough his hand is stroking her inner thigh, playfully close.

His mouth extends its range, lightly kissing more of her breast.

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