[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]

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.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Never," she breathes, her lips parting, her gaze meeting his. Her hand grips him firmly, pressing that advantage, matching her movements to his own. She shares this competitive streak with him, and does her best to unravel him with just her fingertips, but he's got the advantage now.

He knows exactly how to touch her, knows exactly where to stroke and tease to make her breath hitch in her throat. Somehow, she manages a snippet of canine, intelligible to him even with her accent..

Need you.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Want you, love you, he adds, glad he doesn't have to speak. He's not sure he could just now.

He strokes her even as he rocks against her hand, demanding more attention. He drops his head back to hers and kisses her firmly before feathering his lips lightly down her chin and to her throat.

[hell_in_highheels]

Love you, she echoes back, giving him everything he wants, everything he needs.

She tips her head back, purring under his kisses, her hand drawing him back to the wound. His tongue soothes the ragged edge of her flesh and the sound of his voice soothes her heart. The pain is still there, but distant now, other more important things consuming her attention.

Somehow she manages to undo the button, and slip a hand into capture him, her hips rising to meet his own insistent touch. Her voice is shaky, barely more than a breath. "Come here to me."

She shifts to accommodate him, pulling him down to her.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He'll regret how much he's torn into her later. Right now he's more concerned with cleaning it (again) and coming into her. He restrains himself to slow movement, angling himself so he hits that spot as he eases into her.

His groan against her torn flesh betrays his pleasure, though, as well as his eagerness.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her scent, her taste, her voice rising in a stuttering cry. The way her hands are clinging to his shoulders, the way her legs twine around his waist, all of it, all of it mirrors his pleasure and eagerness back to him. She can't touchtastehearfeel enough of him at this moment.

She can't bite his shoulder (how she wants to), can't lift her head to reach, so she settles for scoring his back with her nails, not caring if she draws blood anymore. This is not a place for polite negotiation of affection. This is not a sweet kiss and a cuddle.

This is where the wildness takes over and she paints her hunger, her desire, her possession in his skin.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

It stings but he doesn't really care. He has other things to focus on.

He drives into her as her nails reach the end of their path. Something tickles on his back and a part of him realizes he's bleeding as his own bloodscent seeps into the air.

His teeth find her throat and he bites her there, firmly, but nowhere near the pressure he used on her shoulder. There's no call for it now.

[hell_in_highheels]

There is a fine sheen of sweat covering her body, and the trickle of blood against her palm almost goes unnoticed. She's focused on the feel of his teeth, the heat of his mouth and his breath, the weight of his body, the hardness of him fitted deep inside her, moving, filling her up. So hard, so good she can't breathe.

Her grip shifts up to his shoulder again, and she catches a glimpse of the red on her fingertips.

"Oh..."

He can smell the ripple of emotion. Shock at the sight, fear and worry that she's hurt him all pass by in a heartbeat; hunger, desire, longing take their place. Her hand shifts beneath his arm and she manages to bring her fingers to her mouth, painting her lips and the tip of her tongue with the few drops of his blood.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He's still nibbling on her throat as her hand goes by. His eyes track the blood stained fingers up and past him, and he jerks his head away from her throat, clamping his mouth over her forearm instead. He doesn't use his teeth so much as he uses his lips, sucking and nuzzling at her flesh as he works his way towards her hand.

And still he moves inside her, eager and hard and impatient. If his mouth weren't busy with other things, he'd be panting.

[hell_in_highheels]

She hisses at the new sensation, his mouth on the sensitive skin of her inner arm, her wrist, her palm, her fingertips. She puts her fingers in his mouth, staring up into his face. Her heart is lost in the sight of his eyes. Wolf, man, alive, dead. None of it matters.

All she sees is her mate.

Most of his blood ended up on her lips and she pulls him back to her mouth, a quiet plea on her lips as she kisses him, breathless as she ascends. He can feel the first tremors moving through her body, can feel her rising to meet him.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Want and desire and need are all bleeding together. She's here and that's all he could ask for.

He kisses her, short and sweet as he pants for air, lipping and licking at her lips. His hips are moving steadily, fast now in response to her scent. He knows he can take them higher.

[hell_in_highheels]

He always knows exactly what she needs, even before she knows it herself. Heart and lungs stretch to meet the demand, flesh and bone, sweat and breath and blood, all sing with the exertion. All higher thought falls away, and she strives for him, reaching for that sweet release until she thinks she can't reach anymore.

He asks, and she answers, willingly, gladly, giving everything she has and then some.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He can't help it when he starts grunting, groaning, whining with every thrust, the sounds merging together as they near the end, growing higher pitched until there's just one long howl pouring out of him.

[hell_in_highheels]

She holds tight, breaking just a few moments after him, eyes closed, silent and taut beneath him, shaking with the intensity of it. The sound of his voice vibrates in her chest, and every sense is filled to overflowing with him. She holds tight to this moment, letting it uncoil through her body like his howl twists through the air.

She hears a gasping, shuddering sigh and realises from a great distance that it's her own voice.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He pants against her neck for a moment, on the opposite side of where he bit her. Then, slowly, gently, he kisses her neck just under her jawbone. His head is resting against her shoulder, though he's trying to keep most of his weight off of her.

[hell_in_highheels]

She tips her chin up, still breathing hard, not willing to let him go yet, weight be damned.

Her shoulder hurts. But it's done, and that is a huge release in and of itself.

Her cheek rests against his temple, she presses her nose into his hair. Her hands stroke the back of his neck, idly, but painfully aware of the lines she drew down his back.

"My love. Give me a moment and I'll get a warm cloth for those."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He places another breathy kiss against her throat.

"Warm cloth for what?"