[ 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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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. ]