River Song (
hell_in_highheels) wrote2009-02-08 09:51 pm
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Entry tags:
[oom: Dinner with
captainryan]
[from here]
River arrives in the bar just before seven in the evening, and secures a table for two in a cozy corner of the bar. She's dressed casually, wearing her favourite Irish sweater, jeans and her tan field boots. But she has to confess, she's spent a bit more time with her hair and her face.
For as interesting as Richard is, he is also a good looking man.
She orders a glass of pinot noir, and waits, watching the faces in the crowd. When she sees him, she smiles broadly and holds up a hand.
River arrives in the bar just before seven in the evening, and secures a table for two in a cozy corner of the bar. She's dressed casually, wearing her favourite Irish sweater, jeans and her tan field boots. But she has to confess, she's spent a bit more time with her hair and her face.
For as interesting as Richard is, he is also a good looking man.
She orders a glass of pinot noir, and waits, watching the faces in the crowd. When she sees him, she smiles broadly and holds up a hand.
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"I seem to recall I was chasing you."
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"Thank heavens. I almost got away."
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"I'm not as easily eluded as you might think."
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She shifts in his arms and turns so that her back is to his chest, resting her head on his arm. She nestles against him, shoulder to knee, her bum pressed close against his groin.
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He has to admit this is cosy, though.
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"Not a tease," she whispers. Her hand drifts down, reaching back to touch his hip.
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He lets his fingertips trail down her body again, lightly dancing across her skin. His mouth kisses at the nape of her neck with the barest grazing of teeth.
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She guides his hand to her breast, covering it with her own.
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His hips respond in kind, matching the minimalist motion. He kisses her neck more firmly, now, drawing blood to just under the surface of her skin, marking her in a brand new way.
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Heat is rising in her skin again, and she arches her back a bit more, still dancing slowly. Between the heat of his mouth and the hardness of his cock, her awareness is stretched taut as piano wire.
He already owns her, she thinks. Without question. Without hesitation. Without even a second thought. She belongs to him.
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This evening has been surprising. If she leaves him tomorrow he'll be distraught, but he's also fairly certain he'll still be glad to have met her.
The trick is making her not want to leave.
His hips are moving a bit more firmly, now, requesting access.
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Distantly, there is a bit of sensible fear at the strength of her emotions, the desire she feels for him, but for her, fear has never been a reason to run away.
Her head curls towards the touch of his lips. She closes her eyes, shifting as she tilts her hips to receive him. Her voice telegraphs her pleasure, a low sigh that grows to a decadent moan.
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He enters her smoothly and fully, at the same time nuzzling the area just behind her jaw.
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She holds tight to his arm, arched like a bow in his embrace. She whispers his name with a hint of quiet desperation.
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He half moans, half pants her name.
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Her motions gradually grow more insistent, and a shaky hand drags his fingers down between her thighs. "Touch me."
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He brushes against her with the barest edge of his fingertips, slowly searching for his target, depending on her reaction to know when he's found it.
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Her hips stutter in their dance. Her body can't decide which way to push for more attention. He can feel her pulsing around him in concert with his touches, her head pressed tight against his shoulder. She is trembling on the razor's edge, hanging on his every breath.
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He bites the back of her neck, losing himself in the motions and smells. She's his in every way, and he's going to make sure she knows and wants it that way.
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She has no language left when she begins to dissolve, only a string of incoherent syllables, a litany of bliss that ascends to a thin keening cry.
She unravels slowly. The tremors start beneath his fingertips, echoing where she grips him, spreading down her thighs and up her spine, rolling like thunder throughout her entire body until she is quaking with pleasure, arching hard against him.
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She bucks against him and his teeth tighten their grip on her skin, careful not to puncture anything. His.
His.
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The sweet pain of his sharp teeth in her shoulder, fixes her in that moment.
She shudders hard, gasping for breath.
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He drives into her one last time and releases, howling his pleasure and possession to the world.
A moment later, a howl from the foot of the bed joins in.
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She turns her head to kiss his head, nuzzling, holding his arm tight across her chest.
Gliding back to earth, she gives herself over to the powerful emotion unfolding behind in her breastbone. A strange combination of surrender and trust, joy and a rightness about the world, now that he's here. She closes her eyes and tries to breathe.
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More than content. He never wants this to end.
He settles his head behind hers, buried in her hair and breathing her scent in.
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