[ he mutters a quiet 'thanks' right as she dips into him again, and his arms stretch to wrap around her waist, one hand settling on the small of her back while the other flattens on the curve of her spine. a quiet yet more than appreciative moan is breathed as she threads through his hair, his bare chest flushed against hers, enjoying the intensity of her heat even if its near scalding. he keeps up with her pace, matching her mouth to his with the low burn of passion coursing through, parting ways only to come up for air. ]
Can - Can you lie down on the bed? [ his breath is ragged as he asks, words spilling out even as he tries not to rush. ] I need to get my pants off.
[ he swallows tight and if she thought to glance down she would see the obvious tightness in his form-fitting pants. ]
⟪ she draws back, and does cast her gaze down, before resting her face against his throat in such a way that he can feel her lips twist into an appreciative smirk. ⟫
Please do. ⟪ next time – why she assumes that there is a next time, she does not know for certain, but all there is to say that she relishes his company –
so perhaps there won't necessarily be a next time. that's a thing to consider. she shifts against his hardness. ⟫ Unless you wish me to aid you there in the same way I did with your shirt?
⟪ should he choose to decline, she will abandon his lap to wait by his side on the bed. ⟫
[ he stifles a grunt when she shifts, suspecting it was intentional if that smirk pressed to him is any hint. he's starting to guess that she's deceptively devious and he likes it.
as for that- ]
Yeah, that works too.
[ he'll at least undo the two buttons with one hand, but along with his pants are his high boots going up to an inch under his knees. he's both glad and regrets that he attempted to dress for a good impression because he was meeting her. ]
Do you mind if I ask - [ he hopes she doesn't mind, he's always been too curious for his own good ] - your skin is really warm. Is that how it always is?
[ it seems like any time they have ever come into contact her skin has had the warmth of a small fire. he brushed it off as an oddity, but being in full body contact makes it much more apparent and hard to ignore. ]
⟪ she is out of his lap, for it would be best to be before him to do what she wishes to do next
unfortunately, she then does pause at the question – and his clothes will have to wait a moment as she tries to evaluate how to keep her unspoken promise regarding her magic without revealing things she keeps so close to her chest. which, considering that she sits almost entirely naked safe for a slip of an underskirt, is a bit of an ironic thought. ⟫
It is. ⟪ she takes a deep breath, as if to try and clear her mind from the daze. ⟫ Life within the Red Temple can bring many changes, if one is so blessed.
Mhm. [ then she considers it a blessing. interesting that and a line of questioning he wants to pursue, but...
he clears his throat, the tightness not going away. ]
As long as you're ok. Not - that you're not, but just... [ he rakes a hand through his hair, only noticing his old bad habit as his fingers thread. ] Just making sure you're ok.
⟪ so often is he calm and perfectly collected that it is charming to see him a little undone, stumbling over a sentence, running a hand through hair that he usually keeps so neat. ⟫
I could scarcely – ⟪ and with that, she leans forward to rid him off his boots ⟫ – be better.
⟪ a white lie, not because she is not well, but because she knows this is not the appropriate answer. what she ought to tell him is that her well-being hardly matters, seeing how she is a vessel for her god. what she should not do is feel warmed by his concern for her person. ⟫
[ he feels his feet freed up one by one, and takes the chance to pull down his pants. a pair of black boxer briefs still tighten him, but he sets his hands flat on the edge of the mattress. he senses she might want that for herself. ]
Just... don't get me off, ok?
[ if he finishes in her mouth this early into the night he'll just leave and suffer in the rain, it's fine. ]
⟪ for a moment, the phrase confuses her, before she catches his meaning and hums her agreement as she shifts forward. part of her wishes to tell him that she would hardly be mad – and another part of her relishes the fact that he is invested enough in her own pleasure to wish to hold off.
but then, at this point, she rather thinks more talking would border on the torturous for him – truth is, she has trouble keeping still herself – so instead, she finally frees him of his restraints, swallows, and leans forward. at least now, there is no harm in her hand being warm as she runs it up and down his length just once, and then places almost cruelly teasing kisses against his shaft, slowly moving upward. all the while, she listens closely for his breathing, watches his movements, seeking signs that tell her to stop. for all intents and purposes, she wants to keep to his wishes. ⟫
[ kanan can't see as she comes down on him, but he takes a breath in anticipation to brace himself. his hands grip hard on the mattress when the first touch comes, and he quietly breathes out his puff audibly when she takes him into her mouth. it's been a while since he's been with anyone like this, and he's pretty sure the last time it happened was with an alien that had some extra appendages that clung onto him. it's a big galaxy after all.
his eyes flutter close and his head lowers. in silence he counts, breathing, not slipping into meditation but using similar practices to keep collected. his hands continue to press hard, fingers digging into the sides and lightly scratching in a way that can't be missed. he doesn't want to come so he has to restrain himself. it's so hard though - her lips are teasing and smooth and he swallows down any instinct to push in a little closer to her mouth. he must be patient and he must retain focus. ]
⟪ her pleasure in this comes, yes, from the act itself, from taking him in, from tasting him, from knowing that there are few prayers holier than that between two people in this position – any many others. but it also comes from teasing him, from knowing that she could drive him to completion with ease, from hearing him breathing in a way so controlled it speaks of restraint.
but his fingers are digging into the mattress, she can tell he is tense, and with slow reluctance, she ends up withdrawing, though she does rest her cheek against his thigh. ⟫ More?
[ in and then out, his breathing remains rigid and even. in the jedi order, meditation was one of the very first skills a youngling was taught to master. they would sit a child no more than six or seven in a room, alongside a group of other children the same age, and were taught how to meditate. once basic lecture was done, it was time to put it into practice.
the teachers could tell when someone's thoughts started to ran or they became distracted inside their head. they would gently whack them with a wooden pole on their shoulder, not painfully but certainly with a thud, and add another half hour onto their practice time. not just for that one youngling, but for the entire group. the order was a collective - they worked together, succeeded together and were reprimanded together.
caleb dume was awful at meditation and everyone damn near hated him for extending their time multiple instances in a session.
however it means that years of drilling have made him very good at it. still he can slip in and out with ease, so he doesn't miss a beat with her question. ]
Yes. [ his voice is firm and restrained, but not devoid of want. ] I'll let you know when it's too much.
[ now that he says that though, he thinks she'll take it as a challenge. ]
⟪ with no little fascination does she wonder if he is using the same technique now that she had witnessed in the gods wood just a few weeks prior. and it is true that it takes her... a fair deal of self-control not to see if she can find the edges of this ability. ⟫
Do.
⟪ she presses a kiss to his inner thigh before she returns, this time only with more mischief on her mind. she kisses the tip of his cock in the same slow fashion he has become so intimately familiar with, only to take it properly into her mouth next. not deep by any means, but enough, she hopes, to tempt him to movement. she teases his tip with her tongue only to withdraw again, and then to use her tongue against the length of him. ⟫
[ the next batch of breathes are shakier than the initial, even as he keeps them dangerously even and precise every ten seconds. he counts in his head while she rolls her tongue around his prick, and feels his insides constraining for how he resists the urge to push into her mouth. he's glad this time he can't see her, he thinks he wouldn't be able to resist opening his eyes to look at her. it would ruin him.
his hands only keep gripping the bed like he's about to fall off the edge of a cliff, holding on for dear life. his toes curl and his heels right slightly, the only physical indication of how this is affecting him. he swallows, throat now dry, but isn't ready to tell her to stop. it's a matter of pride for him even. he even constrains his throat to not make a sound, even now feeling a moan attempting to claw its way out for a verbal release. ]
⟪ not sure if she feels challenged or amazed by the fact that, though ragged around the edges, he still keeps his breathing in that steady fashion. there is a different tension to his legs – is he digging his heels in? she can't tell from her position, not without stopping.
and stopping, so it has been decided, is out of question unless he tells her to. he has not made a sound yet, and she takes him deeper into her mouth then, near fully, and begins to feign a steadier rhythm than before. if he could see her, she wonders if his task of holding out would be made more difficult, but that just so sparks another idea.
the next time she is lingering in tantalising cruelty at his tip, tongue teasing him before she covers him once more with her mouth, she allows herself a quiet moan. ⟫
[ he chokes down a sudden moan that tries to surface, the knuckles of his hands whitening and in pain as he becomes desperate to stay still. he regrets ever telling her he liked her voice, now he sees what he has wrought. the pace of his breathing starts to stutter, and he's trying his fastest to get it back on track as his heart quickens. ]
Cheater. [ he mutters quietly, still keeping any sound that tries to get out from emerging. ]
⟪ and is it not cheating to try and get her to talk now? something like that she might say, if that wasn't exactly her point. so instead of words, she flicks her tongue against him. she knows, too, that she could exploit this weakness to a far greater deal were she to use her powers, but that is neither here nor there. she enjoys the game, a great deal even, but only because it is a game. the fact that there is, if his hardness is any indication, an amount of pleasure for him in trying to hold back excites her. who wins the game is neither here nor there, there is no one who truly loses here.
she sucks the tip of his prick into her mouth, takes him to the deepest point yet, but she knows that forming a proper rhythm, truly making it so he fucks her mouth, would likely shatter his focus all too soon for his liking.
that doesn't mean she can't sigh softly against him, just for calling her a cheat. even though her voice has a shudder to it that easily gives away that she, too, is desperate to be touched. ⟫
[ he can feel her sigh, the shuddering breath, vibrates through his groin and it's becoming too intense. she gets her wish when she feels his throat hit the back of her throat, a strained and strangled moan breathed out as he tilts his head up and opens up his eyes sightless.
his body leans back so he can stretch out, hands nearly losing their hold on the mattress. he wants her to keep going, to push in deeper, and that's a bad sign. he's starting to lose slip of his control. ]
Mel... [ his voice trails off after that first syllable, a shuddering breath drawn out from his throat in place of the rest. ]
⟪ there's a doubled sense of intimacy here, between the shortening of her name and the way he draws his breath. he need not say 'stop' for her to know that this is what he means by it, and she pulls back, lips parted in a slight gasp.
and then twisting into a smile as she looks up at him. ⟫
Your focus is quite a challenge to best. ⟪ and she does not feel as though she managed that, as he'd not exactly lost himself to the point of giving in entirely. ⟫
[ a shaky laugh is his response, and added on- ] I could keep going.
[ bravado is his nature, even when he's so obviously spent. he loosens his hold on the mattress, getting one of his hands up behind his neck to smooth out the hair that slings to his neck. face flushed, damp with sweat, and he's taking the few moments of respite to even out his breathing again.
he leans upright again to sit up straight, close to the edge though he can still remain sharp, he offers his hands to her. ]
Come here. [ his breath, still ragged, pants out with need. ] I want to hold you.
⟪ she, too, straightens, first and foremost to slip out of her underskirt as he recovers slightly –– though he does not seem to need much recovery, what with the cockiness already plain as day in his voice again. the laugh she breathes out is almost exasperated in turn, and she takes his hand, quite expecting to know where his sentence will lead when it begins with 'i want'.
as often, she did not guess correctly. in the time before asshai, such... gentle requests were more commonplace, but the city of shadow has different ways, and little room for things that do not serve the immediate relief of an urge or the passionate trade-off of a prayer.
and still, she returns to his lap, entirely bared now, and brushes back a last strand of his now more mussed hair, and then, a thumb across his flushed cheek. ⟫
I've been told. [ though not as kindly as she does. ] You're an unusual woman.
[ he can't deny being drawn to the mystery that surrounds her. the life she's led, the apocalyptic doom she's devoted to preventing, how she keeps asking him questions while only divulging pieces of herself in return. he doesn't want to solve her so much as know her, understand her, and make his own conclusions.
he wonders if he gets to that point, she'll tell him if he's right or correct him on what's wrong. he wants her to be willing. ]
Do you want to be on top or bottom? I'm a lot taller than you so it might not be comfortable.
[ he's been with women smaller than her, and he's trying not to think about that too hard. ]
⟪ she has carried her secrets within herself for so long that she only barely remembers a time before, and even of her visions she only ever divulges a small part. there are things she intends to carry to her final pyre, like the name she was born with, if the lord of light does not bless her with forgetting before that day.
and yet, there are things she does not wish to forget, and in so short a time has his name, his face, the parts of his story she has been privileged enough to learn, claimed a place in those ranks. of how little she has told him of herself, some she's never spoken of aloud.
the more she dwells on this, the more she knows that she ought to keep her distance, and steer away. ⟫
On top. ⟪ and there's a sly smile to her tone, as she shifts in his lap, as her hands run down his chest and her lips are pressed again to his jawline, running lower towards his throat: ⟫ We can always trade places another time.
⟪ would he be so made of light if she was truly meant to avoid the companionship he offers? ⟫
[ he tilts back to give her more access to his throat, a gentle laugh released and a vibration she will feel as she presses into his throat. ] Already thinking about next time?
[ he wouldn't say no to a next time. making presumptions isn't in his nature, as a lifetime of detaching taught him to treasure the moment and move on when done, but how can he resist? he likes her and if she likes him then there can be as many next times as they want.
and while she's busy with his throat, he'll keep one arm wrapped around her for support and angle the other one so he can get hand in between them to press around her breast. ]
Let's talk about it later. You make it hard to think straight around.
⟪ she sucks in a quick breath of air at his touch, evidently struggling to stay as calm and controlled as she likes to appear. frankly, the use of magic would make this easier – so much of it comes at the risk of losing life and limb at the smallest of mistakes, leaving her focus and self-control near unshakeable even if whatever she is casting is not by itself dangerous.
without magic, then, she needs to pull herself together by ordinary means. ⟫
That ⟪ her hands trail up his back, fingertips tracing patterns as she arches against him – ⟫ would be my very aim.
⟪ and as her fingers trace the patterns in return, nails still light against his skin, but the sensation changed from before, she raises her head, lowers her voice to a whisper, dark and promising and suddenly tinged with true need: ⟫ I want you.
[ a shiver ripples down his skin, from the top of his head jolting down his spine, past his chest, to his crotch and legs, the terrible temptation of her voice penetrating him. when he lost his sight he worked hard to train his other senses to let him function. the force lets him see, but improved hearing is the result of learning what to focus on - in the environment and in someone's voice.
so he hears her want, her needs, and he's ready to throw himself before her and afraid of doing so. afraid to let someone in this close, knowing once she steps through he would never have it in him to push her out. what if something goes wrong? not in the moment, nothing is wrong now, but what if later. a day, a week, a month - he doesn't want to disappoint anyone and knows it is inevitable.
he snaps back when her nails graze into his skin, out of the trap made in his thoughts, and opens his eyes. he will never see her but she is here, wanting him, and not just tonight. kanan breathes out, lifts up his hand from her chest so that he may cup her face with a warm hand. ]
Are you ready, or should I prepare you?
[ he takes a moment to slowly adjust them together, pushing back to sit a little further up the mattress and bumping his ankles into the post. thinking too much, even if it's in his nature, is distracting him. he wants her too and he will focus on that in the now. ]
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Can - Can you lie down on the bed? [ his breath is ragged as he asks, words spilling out even as he tries not to rush. ] I need to get my pants off.
[ he swallows tight and if she thought to glance down she would see the obvious tightness in his form-fitting pants. ]
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Please do. ⟪ next time – why she assumes that there is a next time, she does not know for certain, but all there is to say that she relishes his company –
so perhaps there won't necessarily be a next time. that's a thing to consider. she shifts against his hardness. ⟫ Unless you wish me to aid you there in the same way I did with your shirt?
⟪ should he choose to decline, she will abandon his lap to wait by his side on the bed. ⟫
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as for that- ]
Yeah, that works too.
[ he'll at least undo the two buttons with one hand, but along with his pants are his high boots going up to an inch under his knees. he's both glad and regrets that he attempted to dress for a good impression because he was meeting her. ]
Do you mind if I ask - [ he hopes she doesn't mind, he's always been too curious for his own good ] - your skin is really warm. Is that how it always is?
[ it seems like any time they have ever come into contact her skin has had the warmth of a small fire. he brushed it off as an oddity, but being in full body contact makes it much more apparent and hard to ignore. ]
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unfortunately, she then does pause at the question – and his clothes will have to wait a moment as she tries to evaluate how to keep her unspoken promise regarding her magic without revealing things she keeps so close to her chest. which, considering that she sits almost entirely naked safe for a slip of an underskirt, is a bit of an ironic thought. ⟫
It is. ⟪ she takes a deep breath, as if to try and clear her mind from the daze. ⟫ Life within the Red Temple can bring many changes, if one is so blessed.
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he clears his throat, the tightness not going away. ]
As long as you're ok. Not - that you're not, but just... [ he rakes a hand through his hair, only noticing his old bad habit as his fingers thread. ] Just making sure you're ok.
[ nailed it. ]
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I could scarcely – ⟪ and with that, she leans forward to rid him off his boots ⟫ – be better.
⟪ a white lie, not because she is not well, but because she knows this is not the appropriate answer. what she ought to tell him is that her well-being hardly matters, seeing how she is a vessel for her god. what she should not do is feel warmed by his concern for her person. ⟫
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[ he feels his feet freed up one by one, and takes the chance to pull down his pants. a pair of black boxer briefs still tighten him, but he sets his hands flat on the edge of the mattress. he senses she might want that for herself. ]
Just... don't get me off, ok?
[ if he finishes in her mouth this early into the night he'll just leave and suffer in the rain, it's fine. ]
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but then, at this point, she rather thinks more talking would border on the torturous for him – truth is, she has trouble keeping still herself – so instead, she finally frees him of his restraints, swallows, and leans forward. at least now, there is no harm in her hand being warm as she runs it up and down his length just once, and then places almost cruelly teasing kisses against his shaft, slowly moving upward. all the while, she listens closely for his breathing, watches his movements, seeking signs that tell her to stop. for all intents and purposes, she wants to keep to his wishes. ⟫
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his eyes flutter close and his head lowers. in silence he counts, breathing, not slipping into meditation but using similar practices to keep collected. his hands continue to press hard, fingers digging into the sides and lightly scratching in a way that can't be missed. he doesn't want to come so he has to restrain himself. it's so hard though - her lips are teasing and smooth and he swallows down any instinct to push in a little closer to her mouth. he must be patient and he must retain focus. ]
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but his fingers are digging into the mattress, she can tell he is tense, and with slow reluctance, she ends up withdrawing, though she does rest her cheek against his thigh. ⟫ More?
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the teachers could tell when someone's thoughts started to ran or they became distracted inside their head. they would gently whack them with a wooden pole on their shoulder, not painfully but certainly with a thud, and add another half hour onto their practice time. not just for that one youngling, but for the entire group. the order was a collective - they worked together, succeeded together and were reprimanded together.
caleb dume was awful at meditation and everyone damn near hated him for extending their time multiple instances in a session.
however it means that years of drilling have made him very good at it. still he can slip in and out with ease, so he doesn't miss a beat with her question. ]
Yes. [ his voice is firm and restrained, but not devoid of want. ] I'll let you know when it's too much.
[ now that he says that though, he thinks she'll take it as a challenge. ]
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Do.
⟪ she presses a kiss to his inner thigh before she returns, this time only with more mischief on her mind. she kisses the tip of his cock in the same slow fashion he has become so intimately familiar with, only to take it properly into her mouth next. not deep by any means, but enough, she hopes, to tempt him to movement. she teases his tip with her tongue only to withdraw again, and then to use her tongue against the length of him. ⟫
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his hands only keep gripping the bed like he's about to fall off the edge of a cliff, holding on for dear life. his toes curl and his heels right slightly, the only physical indication of how this is affecting him. he swallows, throat now dry, but isn't ready to tell her to stop. it's a matter of pride for him even. he even constrains his throat to not make a sound, even now feeling a moan attempting to claw its way out for a verbal release. ]
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and stopping, so it has been decided, is out of question unless he tells her to. he has not made a sound yet, and she takes him deeper into her mouth then, near fully, and begins to feign a steadier rhythm than before. if he could see her, she wonders if his task of holding out would be made more difficult, but that just so sparks another idea.
the next time she is lingering in tantalising cruelty at his tip, tongue teasing him before she covers him once more with her mouth, she allows herself a quiet moan. ⟫
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Ngh-
[ he chokes down a sudden moan that tries to surface, the knuckles of his hands whitening and in pain as he becomes desperate to stay still. he regrets ever telling her he liked her voice, now he sees what he has wrought. the pace of his breathing starts to stutter, and he's trying his fastest to get it back on track as his heart quickens. ]
Cheater. [ he mutters quietly, still keeping any sound that tries to get out from emerging. ]
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she sucks the tip of his prick into her mouth, takes him to the deepest point yet, but she knows that forming a proper rhythm, truly making it so he fucks her mouth, would likely shatter his focus all too soon for his liking.
that doesn't mean she can't sigh softly against him, just for calling her a cheat. even though her voice has a shudder to it that easily gives away that she, too, is desperate to be touched. ⟫
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his body leans back so he can stretch out, hands nearly losing their hold on the mattress. he wants her to keep going, to push in deeper, and that's a bad sign. he's starting to lose slip of his control. ]
Mel... [ his voice trails off after that first syllable, a shuddering breath drawn out from his throat in place of the rest. ]
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and then twisting into a smile as she looks up at him. ⟫
Your focus is quite a challenge to best. ⟪ and she does not feel as though she managed that, as he'd not exactly lost himself to the point of giving in entirely. ⟫
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[ bravado is his nature, even when he's so obviously spent. he loosens his hold on the mattress, getting one of his hands up behind his neck to smooth out the hair that slings to his neck. face flushed, damp with sweat, and he's taking the few moments of respite to even out his breathing again.
he leans upright again to sit up straight, close to the edge though he can still remain sharp, he offers his hands to her. ]
Come here. [ his breath, still ragged, pants out with need. ] I want to hold you.
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as often, she did not guess correctly. in the time before asshai, such... gentle requests were more commonplace, but the city of shadow has different ways, and little room for things that do not serve the immediate relief of an urge or the passionate trade-off of a prayer.
and still, she returns to his lap, entirely bared now, and brushes back a last strand of his now more mussed hair, and then, a thumb across his flushed cheek. ⟫
You are a very unusual man.
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[ he can't deny being drawn to the mystery that surrounds her. the life she's led, the apocalyptic doom she's devoted to preventing, how she keeps asking him questions while only divulging pieces of herself in return. he doesn't want to solve her so much as know her, understand her, and make his own conclusions.
he wonders if he gets to that point, she'll tell him if he's right or correct him on what's wrong. he wants her to be willing. ]
Do you want to be on top or bottom? I'm a lot taller than you so it might not be comfortable.
[ he's been with women smaller than her, and he's trying not to think about that too hard. ]
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and yet, there are things she does not wish to forget, and in so short a time has his name, his face, the parts of his story she has been privileged enough to learn, claimed a place in those ranks. of how little she has told him of herself, some she's never spoken of aloud.
the more she dwells on this, the more she knows that she ought to keep her distance, and steer away. ⟫
On top. ⟪ and there's a sly smile to her tone, as she shifts in his lap, as her hands run down his chest and her lips are pressed again to his jawline, running lower towards his throat: ⟫ We can always trade places another time.
⟪ would he be so made of light if she was truly meant to avoid the companionship he offers? ⟫
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[ he wouldn't say no to a next time. making presumptions isn't in his nature, as a lifetime of detaching taught him to treasure the moment and move on when done, but how can he resist? he likes her and if she likes him then there can be as many next times as they want.
and while she's busy with his throat, he'll keep one arm wrapped around her for support and angle the other one so he can get hand in between them to press around her breast. ]
Let's talk about it later. You make it hard to think straight around.
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without magic, then, she needs to pull herself together by ordinary means. ⟫
That ⟪ her hands trail up his back, fingertips tracing patterns as she arches against him – ⟫ would be my very aim.
⟪ and as her fingers trace the patterns in return, nails still light against his skin, but the sensation changed from before, she raises her head, lowers her voice to a whisper, dark and promising and suddenly tinged with true need: ⟫ I want you.
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so he hears her want, her needs, and he's ready to throw himself before her and afraid of doing so. afraid to let someone in this close, knowing once she steps through he would never have it in him to push her out. what if something goes wrong? not in the moment, nothing is wrong now, but what if later. a day, a week, a month - he doesn't want to disappoint anyone and knows it is inevitable.
he snaps back when her nails graze into his skin, out of the trap made in his thoughts, and opens his eyes. he will never see her but she is here, wanting him, and not just tonight. kanan breathes out, lifts up his hand from her chest so that he may cup her face with a warm hand. ]
Are you ready, or should I prepare you?
[ he takes a moment to slowly adjust them together, pushing back to sit a little further up the mattress and bumping his ankles into the post. thinking too much, even if it's in his nature, is distracting him. he wants her too and he will focus on that in the now. ]
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