[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?

Comments

[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.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

That startles him. He wasn't expecting her to-

There's fresh blood on his lips.

He licks them clean, then fastens his mouth over the wound, pulling at it. A little more won't hurt. Better to be sure she's properly infected the first time so they don't have to do this again.

(He wants to do it again.)(God help him.)

He probes the holes he's made with his tongue, not particularly gently.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her whimper turns into a cry of pain, but her grip on his neck remains strong. Her breath is ragged, and her whole body is trembling now. The pain is nowhere near as overwhelming as she feared it might be. It is bright and vivid, so intense she's starting to feel light headed. She gives herself over to it, to the strength of his jaws and the sharpness of his teeth, to the laving of his tongue as he catches the blood running freely now.

A wave of hunger comes over her, and she wants to taste him. Her unsteady hands make their way to his face and she urges him away from the wound.

"Kiss me," she breathes.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

There's a low growl as he's again distracted from his treat, but it's short and not too serious. His teeth are stained red and there's a copper taste all through his mouth, which he savours.

Now his kisses are fierce and filled with desire.

[hell_in_highheels]

This is what she needs to distract her from the spreading pain as the muscle contracts around the punctures. She can taste the blood, her blood, mingled with the taste of his mouth.

Her skin is alive, electric with sensation, and she feels almost brittle. (Is that the infection already moving in her? She doesn't know.) Her awareness is fractured between the pain in her shoulder and the sweetness of his kiss.

What if it doesn't work? What will they do then?

Her legs tangle with his, her hands pressing him close. There is no strength in her right arm, but still she holds tight to him.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He growls again, playfully, the sound reverberating up out of his chest, out of his mouth and into hers. He presses against her firm and hard, rocking just a hair.

He can taste her. He's never tasted her like this, her blood and her all mixed together, her scent and blood scent threaded through the air, teasing him in so many different ways.

He wants her so much right now.

[hell_in_highheels]

Oh, the sounds he is making. The strength of his hands pulling her close, the power of his hips rocking against her, the feel of his mouth against her, she loves these, but the sounds... She craves that from him and hearing it draws a thready moan from her.

Breathing hard now, her heart racing in her chest, she shifts beneath him, trying to mold herself against him. Her hands tremble as they hold tight to his neck. She meets that kiss and then breaks away, gasping for breath, kissing down his jaw, drawing him back to the wound, pressing her cheek against his as she braces for another bite.

Her scent tells him that the pain hasn't faded, but it is dimming in relation to her rising ecstasy. Desire and surrender, trust and love.

Yours.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Want.

He shouldn't bite her again. There's no call for it except that he wants to.

Third times the charm after all.

He presses his teeth against the wound but only ever so slightly into it, freeing more blood but not causing any more damage. He licks the claret away, tongue following the edges of the holes he's made, nearly teasing. Light and nearly delicate, he cleans the bite.

He can't ignore her ecstasy, though, not he can feelsmelltaste it. He nibbles the skin around the wound, sharp little nips, pausing to lick at her in between.

[hell_in_highheels]

She hisses, arching her head back into the pillows, eyes clenched shut, teeth bared in a grimace of pleasurepain. This time, the pain is dull and throbbing, but still, not overwhelming. Every inch of her skin is alive and electrified. Every pass of his tongue sends her higher into that halo and every nip is rewarded with a shuddering gasp.

Her knee rises along side his thigh, her hips rising and falling, grinding against him. Her nails drag across his shoulder again, harder this time, wanting to mark him too, wanting him to feel her in his skin.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He groans in pleasure, enjoying the feel of her clawsnails against his skin, marking him. He nibbles his way back to her throat, hovering there with short sharp nips before returning again to clean her shoulder.

He rocks against her again, slowly, using her thigh as a guide.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her hands move up his neck, weaving through his hair. She's breathing in time with his motions, biting her lip. Gently, she urges him up, looking up into his face, guileless need in her eyes.

There's a mischievous smirk as she reaches down to tug at his trousers. "Someday soon, I'm going to be able to tear your clothes off, literally."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He arches an eyebrow at her. "Going to go through clothes rather quickly, then," he replies, voice rough with desire. He smirks a bit. "Better to not bother with them."

He shifts his weight to one side so he can slide his hand up her thigh. The skirt is already well rumpled, but he's more curious about other fabric that might be in the way.

He grins as he snaps the elastic of her knickers.

[hell_in_highheels]

There is an indignant gasp at that, her skin sensitized as it is. "I'll remember, next time," she laughs, wincing a bit as she shifts. There's a dull pain spreading down her shoulder now, and it hurts to move her arm. She settles for pressing that hand against his chest, fingers parallel with his scars.

Her other hand fumbles ineffectually at his own trousers. "Off. Off off off," she growls, playful and demanding.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Did you need assistance?" Smirk. He's being horribly slow on his part, tugging slowly at one side of the fabric before trailing his fingers across it to work on the other side.

[hell_in_highheels]

Damn the pain, she's leaning up, one hand at his cheek, a trail of open mouthed kisses marking the line of his jaw down to his throat. She wants to hear him growl again, wants to make him move quicker.

But as wonderful as that angle of attack is, it's terribly counter-productive on the 'removing clothing' front and she falls back with an overly dramatic frustrated groan. Her lips set in a firm line as she lifts her hips from the bed, letting him finish what he started.

And from here, she discovers, curling her palm along the front of his trousers, she can torment him through the fabric just as easily.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Why yes, yes she can.

The undergarment gets carelessly tossed off to the side as he curls his head down, watching her from underneath his brows. He's already hard and he groans as she discovers that fact and uses it to her advantage.

"Tease," he pants, moving his hand down to even up the score by slipping under her skirt and...

Well. It can't really be called exploring when he knows the territory as well as he does.