[oom] Room 417

[hell_in_highheels]

[cont'd from here]

He runs through his mental check-list one more time while wondering if he's missed something or if he could add something else. Fireplace. He turns the flames on, setting them to low and casting faint shadows across the furniture.

Perfect. He heads for the door and puts one hand on the knob before he smirks and leans against the wall instead.

"Who is it?"

She remembers the first time she stood here, her heart in her throat, wondering just what it was she was going to say to convince him to let her stay.  A smile spreads across her face.  She lays one hand flat on the door, and rests her forehead against the frame*. 

"Three guesses, first two don't count."



*The other hand has been claimed by a certain obstinate doberman.   His dog, indeed.

Comments

[hell_in_highheels]

She looks down into his face, laughter in her eyes and her scent, well aware that her alpha is letting her push the boundaries. She takes advantage, not challenging him, but certainly revelling in the privilege of being this close.

"Well, that can be answered with a simple enough question: if you had to chose between amazing poetry and amazing sex, which would you prefer?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Mmm, decisions, decisions," he rumbles with half-slitted eyes as he strokes her thighs and ass. Being this close does have its advantages.

"Am I allowed samples to compare?"

[hell_in_highheels]

"If you so desire." She rocks forward a bit, her body instinctively moving in time with his touch. Her gaze, on the other hand, moves to the ceiling as she chews on her thumb. "Hmm, let me think."

Her eyes fall shut and she exhales quietly, "Oh yes, my love." Her chin tips down again and she's looking at him as she recites, low and precise, speaking the words as she had written them herself.

"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps..."

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He arches an eyebrow, looking a shade dubious.

"Are you certain you didn't just make that up? It's terribly suited to us."

He continues to work at distracting her and being distracted by her. It's a lovely ass, after all.

[hell_in_highheels]

"No, I didn't make it up. And there's more." Her hands rest against his chest, her fingers kneading gently. She leans forward, whispering the words against his jawline, not giving him a chance to interrupt the rest of the sonnet.

"I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face," Her lips follow her words, brushing across the features of his face.
"I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue."

The last is just a breath against the shell of his ear.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Which means he can now interrupt her. He thinks. He's not really sure if that's the end or not but her throat is right there and the urge to nibble on it is strong.

"It's a-" nibble "good poem." Nip. "But you've" nuzzle "made me hungry."

[hell_in_highheels]

She tips her chin up, baring her throat to his mouth, a hard shiver running through her body and the steadily rising arousal in her scent spiking high and wild at the feel of his teeth.

trust, love, surrender, need

You're always hungry, she observes, not really complaining.

Her hands hold tight to his shirt, and her spine arches beneath his hands.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

His fingers slip underneath her shirt, searching higher, holding her in place. He continues to nip at her throat, worrying the edge of her collar bone.

determined, desire, love, need

You're always tasty, he answers with a playful growl.

[hell_in_highheels]

Goosebumps rise beneath his lips. Her eyes close and her lips part. There's a low whine in answer to that growl, and another shiver, this one travelling down her spine. Each brush of his incisors sends tiny shock of pleasure, coursing through her skin, the Atlantean amplifying all of it.

Then you should feast, love.

my mate

The scar at the side of her neck shimmers with the memory of his bite.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

There was no need, nor desire, to bite that deeply this time.

He still drew blood, though, as he bit at the base of her throat. Red slowly swelled out of the holes he made, like tiny glossy flower buds, and he just as slowly licked them away again.

Mine.

[hell_in_highheels]

Her voice hitches in her throat, and her hands encircle his head, the muscles in her arms trembling as she holds to him. Cradling him against her, a shuddering gasp caught in the back of her throat as his tongue moves.

Yours.

Everything about this feels sharper this time. The feel of his skin beneath her palms, the feel of his arms around her. She can smell the blood, smell the effect it has on him, can smell her own musk rising, mingling with it all.

The gasp becomes a growl, an inhuman sound coming from her chest.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Heaven. He's died and gone to heaven. It's only taken him a few years to realize.

He growls back, nipping her again, leaving fresh marks as his hands find her bra and start pulling at it. He has no intention of breaking it but, well. Accidents do happen.

[hell_in_highheels]

She contracts around him with each bite, knees grasping his hips, hands holding his head, the growl deepening. Her new found power vibrates in her skin, and her senses are singing. She drops her head, hands pushing him back so that she can press hot kisses along his jaw, questing. Her hands slip down his neck, pushing at his shirt, wanting more of his skin beneath her palms.

She finds the hollow of beneath his ear and her breath is shaky as she inhales deeply, drinking him in, nuzzling and kissing, her hips rocking against him now.

Later? She'll discover the wardrobe malfunction. Right now, she's focused on him to the exclusion of all else.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Ditto that. Richard pushes up against her, hardness pressing through his trousers. His hands massage her breasts, relishing in their feel. Her lips are at his chin so he kisses her cheeks, pressing his teeth against her nose for a moment.

Some small voice in the back of his head mentions, as his shirt begins tearing, that they should probably disrobe before foreplay in the future.

[hell_in_highheels]

The nose bite makes her laugh, sends a bright ribbon of joy through her scent. Before, with her human senses, she found him intoxicating. Now, he is beyond irresistible.

And if the fabric wants to give way that easily, who is she to complain? Eager now, she shoves the tatters down his arms, licking and nibbling across the top of his shoulder before returning to press open-mouthed kisses to the side of his neck. Devouring him.

Her hips grind on his erection, driving them both higher. Her kiss becomes a sucking nibble, down the line of the muscle to where his neck meets his shoulder.

Her mouth fixes there, sucking the blood to the surface, her teeth pressing against his flesh. Gently at first, but that's not enough. She wants more. She moans as her teeth pierce his skin and she tastes him.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He lets out a brief surprised sound as his blood starts flowing. He tenses reflexively, jerking to bring his own teeth back to the side of her neck. It's not a warning, just a reminder.

Still, his scent is eager and aroused as he gasps against the wet spot he's left on her throat, panting with exertion. His hands move down her sides, roughly caressing until he reaches her trousers.

Sometimes he hates buttons.

[hell_in_highheels]

She freezes for that moment, hissing and smiling as her chin tips back. But his blood is on her tongue and that wildness is rising in her. She leans back, rising on her knees to give him better access, stripping her blouse over her head in one quick movement.

She wants to see his face, wants to look into his eyes. She takes his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks, licking the last bit of his blood off her lower lip before sucking it between her teeth. She's breathing hard, rocking against his hands.

"So? Better than poetry?"

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

"Fuck yes." He finally gets the clasp open and roughly tugs down the fabric hiding her.

"We haven't even done the sex bit yet," he adds with a quick grin, kissing her lips possessively. His hands glide over her thighs and ass, long familiar territory though it has been satisfying to feel them grow more lean and muscular over the weeks.

Heaven.

[hell_in_highheels]

Bliss. Her eyes close and she meets his kiss, returns it slow and deep, feeling the layers fall away, allowed to let go here. Safe in his arms.

She growls again as her lips pull at his mouth. Her thighs clench beneath his hands and she arches her back, offering herself to him.

Never let you go.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Never going to let you.

Dammit, why are his trousers always the last thing to get pulled off?

He pushes them both up and flips them over so she's on the bottom and his legs are free. He leans over her, kissing and nibbling her head, throat, chest. He'd planned on undoing his trousers but he finds his hands distracted by her warm skin, her scent spooling off into the air and making mere fabric the farthest thing from his mind.

[hell_in_highheels]

She gasps, laughs out loud as he lifts her, never failing to be amazed at how strong he really is. The laugh melts into a sigh as he kisses her face and throat, a low whine as his mouth finds her breasts, his hands running over her like fire, like a dream, like he's memorising her. Like he's reading all her secrets with his fingertips, and she's trying to read him, her hands stroking over his hair, down his neck and shoulders.

can't get enough of touching you, can't ever get enough of you

His scent is changing, deepening, growing richer, drawing her in, binding her to this moment. She presses her nose into his hair, inhaling deeply.

Her hands smooth down his chest, over his scars, catching the button of his trousers and undoing it, teasing him for a moment, pressing her palm against his hard length through the fabric. She wants to hear his voice again, wants to feel his strength.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

A low, pleased rumble rolls its way out of his chest, hitching higher as the pressure against him increases. He pushes against her hand as he draws blood from her throat again, quivering in anticipation. He roughly licks the droplets away, pushing her into the cushions.

want you so much, mine now and forever, never let you go

The bite at his shoulder sings, the tatters of his shirt restrict his movement ever so slightly, and his hands hold her waist as he rocks against her.

[hell_in_highheels]

He's marking her skin again, claiming her, and the fresh blood scent is in the air. The voice drawn from her throat sounds alien to her own ears, but it feels right. Half-whine, half-growl, she bends her mouth to his wound, the taste of him and the scent of him mingling on her palate, driving her even higher. Gently, she presses her teeth to his skin, not biting, but holding him.

never let you go. mine.

Her hands seek over his skin, pushing his trousers over his hips, wanting his flanks under her palms, wanting to feel the muscle moving beneath his (hide). She shifts beneath him, aligning her body with his, tearing the rest of his shirt away, her touch a bit more urgent now.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He stills a bit under her teeth's hold, movements turning more slow and precise but not ceasing. A little torn flesh is worth it.

He has one hand on her hip and the other on the couch behind her as he slowly eases down, allowing her teeth to control him some. He brushes against her, nearly clumsy with alcohol as he kisses and nibbles on her ear, soaking in the scent pocket there.

Her musk reaches him, strong and spell-binding, distracting him utterly from her mouth at his throat. He lowers himself into warmth with a faint groan.

[hell_in_highheels]

The touch of his heat against her flesh sends a shock of pleasure through her, and she whimpers with the intensity of it, releasing her grip on his throat.

"Richard..."
Love.

Her breath feathers over his jaw, canine and human spoken as one word. The scent rolling off him is so rich, so intense, she thinks she'll die if she can't have another breath of it. Her whole body ripples, new muscle arching her torso hard against his chest, sending tremors all the way down to her splayed fingertips. Even her heels quiver against his thighs as she draws him into her body.