[oom] New Moon

[hell_in_highheels]

She's standing at the window, looking out over the Scottish landscape, watching the night sky.   The moon is new, and without the competing light, the stars are spectacular.  River kneels up on the window seat and touches the controls that bring the opacity down to zero.  Starlight isn't as bright as moonlight, but it's still enough that she can make out the horizon.  The landscape is stunning.

She settles back, sitting on her heels, arms crossed over her chest, hands rubbing her upper arms, smiling up at the night sky.

He said yes.

He said yes.




She can't help but wonder...  What comes next?

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[hell_in_highheels]

"Richard!"

She barely gets out a gasp before she's upside down over his shoulder, her heels kicking in free air. She's grinning, laughing breathlessly, her fists pounding playfully on his back.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He practises his innocent tone. "Yes?"

Dom gets a silent greeting and then they're past the couch and almost to the door.

He has cause to move quickly.

[hell_in_highheels]

He can tell by her scent she has no complaint. She loves this side of him, direct and unequivocal.

"I know where the bedroom is! And I'm not a sack of potatoes!"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"I am most definitely aware of that," he practically purrs, turning his head to nip her hip.

He's careful when he slips through the doorway to not bump any part of her on the frame. It wouldn't do to knock her out when the bed's right there.

He pauses just inside. "It'd be a shame to muss the covers. We made the bed so neatly this morning."

[hell_in_highheels]

There's a little squeak at the nip. "Richard! The covers will survive. Put me down!"

She is laughing so hard she can barely breathe, squirming just enough to make a good show of it.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Dramatic sigh.

"If you insist." He sidles to the bed, then leans toward the shoulder she's on. With one arm up to control her fall, she slides off his shoulder and onto the comforter.

"Better?" His fingers trail paths along her legs.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Almost," she purrs, pushing up to her elbows and inching higher on the bed.

She reaches up with a toe to pluck at whatever fabric she can reach, biting her lip as she looks up at him.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He sits in the little open space there is between her and the edge of the bed.

Is he really going to do this?

He twists, leaning in towards her for another kiss.

He thinks he is.

This kiss is a little fiercer than the last, and he pushes against her. His waist can only twist so far, though, and soon he has one leg on the bed so he isn't quite so contorted.

[hell_in_highheels]

She can't ever get enough of touching him. She meets that kiss with her own ferocity, eager hands reaching for him, pulling him close.

She's not thinking about the bite anymore. She's thinking about how good he smells, summer rain falling on forge stones. She's thinking that a hundred years in exile was a small price to pay for the privilege of being right here, right now.

I never want this to end.

And then she's not thinking at all, she's kissing him and he's kissing her back.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He can't quite rid himself of all thought just yet. The bite hovers at the edge of his mind, just there as he distracts himself with other things.

Like her lips working at his and rolling her onto her back so he can get on the bed proper. He still ends up being partly over her, but that's all right.

...these clothes need to start coming off. He starts questing for buttons and zips.

[hell_in_highheels]

She helps, and there's a fluidity to their movements, a few months worth of familiarity that eases their way.

Her hands slip beneath his shirt, easing it over his ribs and up over his shoulders, their kiss barely faltering as she pulls it over his head and throws it away. Her blouse follows suit, and then she's nuzzling his ear, kissing the hollow beneath his jaw, her hands stroking the bare skin of his chest.

"Talk to me," she whispers. "I love the sound of your voice."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"I hope that's not all you love," he teases, lipping down her throat and to her chest. He starts licking in patterns and blowing air across them.

"What else?"

[hell_in_highheels]

She grins, shivering a bit, her head pressing back into the comforter. It takes a moment to find the words and when she speaks, they are languid and low. "Two can play at that game, love. Mmmm. I love the sound of your voice, aaaand your scent. I love your scent."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Oh really. What do I smell like, then?" What does a human smell? He can't really remember.

"I love how you always look like you're up to something." He lips at a nipple, worrying it slightly. "Thank goodness I have a way to check."

[hell_in_highheels]

Her hands are stroking his head, and her legs tangle with his, pulling him close. The feel of his mouth and tongue, the feel of his hands moving on her, all make her ripple and sigh. Every touch makes her hunger for him grow, until it's hard to breathe, hard to think. Words require thought. Think, River. Think.

"I am always up to something, love." She grins, watching him with bright eyes.

"You smell like -- a summer storm. Like that first kiss of rain on stone. Like you're mine." As she speaks, the touch of her fingertips trailing on his back changes as she lets her nails graze ever so lightly across his skin.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Mine," he rumbles as her nails scrape across his skin. He arches his back a bit, bringing his head further down so his lips are lighting across her midsection. His fingers are rougher, calluses catching on smooth skin as he runs them over her.

"Yours," he admits a moment later, finding the scent pocket between her breasts.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Yours, my love. All yours."

She loves the roughness of his hands, the scruff of his beard, the rumble of his voice. She especially loves the feel of his breath puffing over her skin as he draws in her scent. She continues drawing her nails over his back, a little firmer near his spine, a little lighter over the tops of his shoulder.

"I love the way your mind works," she breathes. Her tone tells him she thinks this is one of the sexiest things about him.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He grunts, more than a little distracted by the smell of her. He coasts up over her breast bone, pausing to nibble at where her collar bone joined it.

"I love," scrape, "the way," nibble, "you're so persistent." He gives her a sharp little nip, but doesn't move higher. Not yet.

[hell_in_highheels]

She responds with a shivering laugh, a gasp and a shudder that moves through her entire frame. For just a moment, her nails dig into his back, and her shoulders lift off the bed, a throaty whine escaping her lips.

Her scent changes, anticipation fading, overwhelmed by a wild joy and the deeper, ever-present undercurrent of love.

Her eyes close as her head tips back. "I love the way you hold your ground," she breathes. "I need that, need you to ground me."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"I'll be there," he promises. He has every intention of being there for her, of showing her the ropes, watching her discover all the little things, scents and tastes and how good it feels to run.

Focusing on those things, it's almost easy to ignore his fears. Almost.

Almost delicately, he nibbles up her throat, knowing she isn't distracted enough to do much more than that. But that's what the nibbling is for.

[hell_in_highheels]

She nods, tipping her head back farther, trying to remember how to breathe. There is no doubt in her mind that he will be, there hasn't been for a long time. If there had been any doubt, she would never have asked this of him.

Eyes closed, she focuses on the wet heat of his mouth, the weight of his body holding her to the bed, pinning her to this moment. Her hands smooth over his back and up to his neck, half petting, half clinging to him.

Another breath, another kiss, another nibble. Her heart beat quickens. Slowly, surely, her whole world folds down to just this.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He's not as lost in the moment as she is. He's aroused certainly, but he's also focused on what he's doing. This is a good thing as far as he's concerned.

He starts to nibble harder, following her scent and her sounds, leaving indentations in her skin. Mine, he nearly whines as he bruises her trachea in three separate spots, terribly aware of her jugular vein just there, such a small amount of space between her life blood and his teeth and what if he bites too deep? What if predator instinct takes over and he worries her throat like Damocles worries a bone?

Abruptly he drops his mouth to the side of her neck, to the chunk of flesh where it joins her shoulder. He sucks on it for a long moment to bring the blood to the surface. And then he bites her.

Hard.




No, harder.




No, harder and suddenly there's blood and he'll be damned if he's not licking it up like candy.

[hell_in_highheels]

She's not as far gone as she'd like to be, and she knows, feels his body language shift, change. The bites at her throat combined with his whine make her moan, shuddering with a depth of emotion she can't quite grasp.

And then he drops his mouth to her neck and her arms tighten around him, holding tight. The first bite hurts, but there is still a rich pleasure in the pain. The second bite, she is gasping at the sharpness of his teeth.

She feels her flesh slice beneath his incisors, feels the nerve endings scream, and she lets slip the smallest whimper. Her grip on him is so strong, her own nails bite into his skin.

Her scent is surprise and pain and relief and surrender and love, through it all, never waivering, love.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He gives a little growl as her nails dig in, still lost in licking the bite clean. It's not bleeding much, all muscle there, and he's tempted to bite into it again, maybe pull a little bit, just to get the blood flowing.

Oh how he's tempted.

He lowers his head slightly so his nose is just over the wound, breathing in the copper scent. He licks his lips, tasting it, then licks what's welled out in that short timespan.

"Love," he says, a bit unsteady, "the way you taste."

[hell_in_highheels]

The sound of his voice sends a bolt of arousal through her. She arches beneath him at the feel of his mouth on the aching wound, pressing the entire length of her body against him. Her shaking hand slips up to the back of his neck and she pulls him back down.

"Again,".

Want you, need you, love you.

Not just because she wants to hear the sounds he makes as he tastes her blood, so amazing. Not just so she can feel that intense pleasurepain again, because it is so good. No, not for those reasons.

She wants there to be no doubt in his mind.