[ she's dead and gone the moment he moves towards her, melting with a groan in the back of her throat as his mouth claims her own, her hands looping up around his neck by instinct alone when he tugs her forward. god, but he knows how to handle her; there's barely a second that passes after he asks the (presumably rhetorical) question before daisy breathes out an easy, effortless, ] Nobody.
[ but it's true, really. nobody ever has, she doubts anyone ever will. he's gotten under her skin, found all the little things that make her tick, even gone so far as to teach her things she likes that she never would have dreamed of alone. ]
Are you gonna fuck me, or are you still mad at me for stealing your shirt?
[ pretty please, breathed out in all but words, nails scraping gently along the nape of his neck as his mouth skims over her skin. ]
[ At least she's just as easy for him as he is for her; it's very gratifying to have her play coquettish one minute and then immediately melt into him the next, like he's just too sexy for her to be able to even pretend to resist him for long. He's not sure if that's true, but he appreciates the fact that she seems to think so. It makes the fact that he thinks very similar thoughts about her a lot less embarrassing. ]
Yes. [ Going to fuck her? Still mad? Unclear.
Well, the fact that he's going to fuck her is definitely clear, if the way he lets his hands drop from her neck to grip her waist tightly is any indication.
Sadly, he has other commitments tonight, so even though he promised her he'd eat her out, he's not going to be able to take the same leisurely path he's taken in the past, peeling her slowly out of her clothes and painting every inch of her with his mouth before winding up at his final destination. No, tonight has to be a much more economical affair, and he demonstrates that right out of the gate by taking her by the hips and pulling her off his desk, kissing her a little bit longer before regretfully pulling away and spinning her in his arms so her back is to his front. Sliding his hands back around her, one slipping up under his sweatshirt to palm her hot, smooth skin, the other sliding south so he can fit it comfortably between her thighs and grind up against her through her leggings, he noses in against the side of her head so he can murmur in her ear: ]
[ hot skin and warm hands shouldn't equal a shiver, and yet, daisy practically trembles with anticipation; there's not much more than a brief bob of her head before her body obeys the command, her head tipping back to lean into his chest for a little bit of support. if he hadn't spun her, she imagines his teeth might have dragged along the column of her exposed throat. as it is, a hand curves over the spot, tracing the path up to where his hands had so recently pressed against, cupping with a squeeze against the back of her neck. ]
You should check the pocket. [ of his (her) sweatshirt, less a pocket and more a sling for cold hands to tuck, where a small cellophane bag is tucked inside, containing colorful discs in individual wrappings. planning ahead? or just a tease, a reminder of that first visit when he'd been disappointingly unprepared. ] I got you something.
[ The quick way she responds to him has him murmuring to her again, a quiet good girl whispered into her hair as he watches her spread her hand up her neck like she's imagining where he ought to put his own. If only he had more time... ]
In a minute. [ He's a bit busy at the moment, his hands slipping up her hips to find the waistband of her leggings so he can tuck his fingers beneath that strong elastic and start to slide the whole lycra ensemble down. He catches the waistband of her panties as he goes, dragging them along with her leggings, until he can slide them down over the curve of her ass and beyond, not stopping until they're mid-thigh and hobbling her, keeping her from spreading her legs any wider. Kicking a foot in between hers, he reminds her not to let her legs close, and presses a hand to the middle of her back to push her down onto his desk. ] I'm busy.
[ he's obnoxiously attractive when he orders her around. it's not fair — how quickly, how easily she gives in, how much she loves the way his voice sounds when he murmurs good girl into her hair, how much she aches to please him just to hear him say it over and over again.
so when he pushes, she goes; there's no resistance, just the pliant bend of her body as his hand presses firm against her back. there's only the moan of appreciation at the touch, rumbling over the cool surface of his desk. whatever she might have tucked away, whatever intentions to surprise him she may have had, is lost to the wayside for the moment. it's all she can do to oblige him in keeping her legs as far apart as she can for now. ]
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[ but it's true, really. nobody ever has, she doubts anyone ever will. he's gotten under her skin, found all the little things that make her tick, even gone so far as to teach her things she likes that she never would have dreamed of alone. ]
Are you gonna fuck me, or are you still mad at me for stealing your shirt?
[ pretty please, breathed out in all but words, nails scraping gently along the nape of his neck as his mouth skims over her skin. ]
no subject
Yes. [ Going to fuck her? Still mad? Unclear.
Well, the fact that he's going to fuck her is definitely clear, if the way he lets his hands drop from her neck to grip her waist tightly is any indication.
Sadly, he has other commitments tonight, so even though he promised her he'd eat her out, he's not going to be able to take the same leisurely path he's taken in the past, peeling her slowly out of her clothes and painting every inch of her with his mouth before winding up at his final destination. No, tonight has to be a much more economical affair, and he demonstrates that right out of the gate by taking her by the hips and pulling her off his desk, kissing her a little bit longer before regretfully pulling away and spinning her in his arms so her back is to his front. Sliding his hands back around her, one slipping up under his sweatshirt to palm her hot, smooth skin, the other sliding south so he can fit it comfortably between her thighs and grind up against her through her leggings, he noses in against the side of her head so he can murmur in her ear: ]
Spread your legs for me.
no subject
You should check the pocket. [ of his (her) sweatshirt, less a pocket and more a sling for cold hands to tuck, where a small cellophane bag is tucked inside, containing colorful discs in individual wrappings. planning ahead? or just a tease, a reminder of that first visit when he'd been disappointingly unprepared. ] I got you something.
no subject
In a minute. [ He's a bit busy at the moment, his hands slipping up her hips to find the waistband of her leggings so he can tuck his fingers beneath that strong elastic and start to slide the whole lycra ensemble down. He catches the waistband of her panties as he goes, dragging them along with her leggings, until he can slide them down over the curve of her ass and beyond, not stopping until they're mid-thigh and hobbling her, keeping her from spreading her legs any wider. Kicking a foot in between hers, he reminds her not to let her legs close, and presses a hand to the middle of her back to push her down onto his desk. ] I'm busy.
no subject
so when he pushes, she goes; there's no resistance, just the pliant bend of her body as his hand presses firm against her back. there's only the moan of appreciation at the touch, rumbling over the cool surface of his desk. whatever she might have tucked away, whatever intentions to surprise him she may have had, is lost to the wayside for the moment. it's all she can do to oblige him in keeping her legs as far apart as she can for now. ]