called_lioness | (no subject)

Her voice is so gentle and her hand so insistent that he has to open his eyes, just to see her.

She's so beautiful.

And it isn't quite fair that this feels so good, really, because he's certain that she isn't nearly as close to falling utterly apart as he is, but then her hand is wamr against his skin and her eyes are laughing and loving. It doesn't even matter that they're grey now, because green or grey they're Lucy's eyes and that makes them beautiful, no matter what, especially when she's looking at him like that.

Maybe it's that which undoes him in the end; the look in her eyes and the warmth of her and the way she's touching him and how much he loves her. He doesn't quite know what exactly it might be, or if it's just everything all at once but he gasps and his shoulders shake and it's like everything is falling around him, but instead of falling apart it's all falling together.

"Oh, yes," she murmurs and cradles him close as he shakes, stops looking enough to press a kiss to his temple, softly, and then another, marvelling at how wet his hair is and the way he's trembling and all of it, really.

And it's satisfying in a different way than it would be to fall with him and see the world go white for herself, because she can see his face, can brush kisses to it, distracted from moving against him for at least the moment as she slows and stops and just holds him close and says, "I love you," softly, over and over again.

He replies in kind, shaking and slick with sweat, and holds her as close as he dares, taking deep shuddering breaths.

That was--

It was--

"Love you," he murmurs, into her neck, and she has shown him just what she wanted and so now it's his turn. He can lift her, and he does, and he turns and she falls back and then he's lying alongside her with his hand running down her body while he watches her face with curiousity and contentment. He wonders what will happen if he touches her just there and lets his fingers linger a while over heated skin. He wants to see her twist, wants to make her arch into his touch, wants her to call out his name in that way she has.

Mouth and skin and touch and heat all trace over every inch of her body, finding the sensitive spots and loving them.

"Oh,," Lucy manages and she wants to watch him because he's beautiful and his hand's brilliant, but it's hard to focus. More than a little bit hard, just as it's hard not to grab him and pull him closer for something, for anything, but it's his turn. He let her, so now she lets him, and it's not like it's anything close to being unpleasant.

He knows most of the spots, really, knows them quite well, and when he kisses the spot between her shoulder and neck is, she thinks, when she started to shake a bit. It's definitely when she groaned the first time, and she doesn't bother for once even keeping it a little bit quiet, because that spot always makes it hard to breathe. And she knows that it's when he's stroking her side that she bites out, "Please," without being able to put anything after it. Please more, please don't tease, except she did earlier, and it's not like she can't wait, so maybe also it's please don't stop. Even if two of them contradict each other.

She doesn't care.

He'd like to tease her, he really would; would love to take his time and make her come apart at the seems, but when it comes to Lucy and what she asks, Caspian finds himself unable to resist. Particularly when she's like this: sweating and twisting the sheets and tipping her head back. So she says please and then there's his mouth on her neck and her ear and his hand moving down her side and down her hip and smoothing over the skin of her thigh to that spot that had made her shudder when her legs were around him.

And maybe he's still teasing, a little, but even keeping his touch light and slow doesn't make it not there and he smiles against her skin when she shakes. Lifting himself up on an elbow, he watches her face as she had watched his earlier, watching how his touch makes her eyes close, watching what opens them again.

And no matter how familiar her body has become, there is always this and it is always new and always, always precious.

Lucy would say this is more than teasing. It's worse, almost, being light and there than in other places. She can't really keep her eyes open at the first touch, not for more than a second or two, because it's frustrating and wonderful and other things she can't think of but she's sure exist and she'd know if she wasn't busy trying to remember how to breathe.

"You're trying to make me explode, aren't you?" she rasps when her eyes drift open again, but she's not objecting by half, as one hand twists in the sheets at each touch.

This is very new, really, at least in this way, and she likes it as much as she liked tasting his mouth earlier and watching his face and everything else.

He laughs a little, and dips his head to kiss along her collarbone, paying particular attention to the hollow of her throat.

"Aye. Mayhap I am."

It's nice to think that his touch could--does--have that effect. But now her eyes are open and he wants to see them widen, so now the touch is less light, more insistent, and he likes that her breath comes at the same time as his fingers move. He likes that it's ragged at the edges, wants to make it come faster.

Watching her face, though, takes away from tasting her skin, and he leans down to kiss down her neck, over the rise of collarbone and swell of breast. He'd like to see her face when she falls, but this is just as sweet.

"Ass." She doesn't mean it at all, and the way she has to gasp it out is fairly able to give it away.

He kisses her neck and she groans, and he kisses her breasts and she bites her tongue to keep from--she doesn't even know what, because it feels too good, and they're almost aching to be touched, and at least it's not feather-light.

"Shan't let you," she manages as she cradles his head with one hand, because it's playing and always has been, really, because he's her playmate as much as lover and friend as much as husband, and because she's stubborn.

Also, she thinks it would be rather messy.

Also, it would steal from Caspian the pleasure of having her here and in one piece, and he'd come up with a witty retort, only the sight of Lucy like this seems to have short-circuited his brain. Still, this isn't precisely to her detriment, as it means his hands are paying even more attention to the places on her body they touch, and his mouth is lingering on her skin and his fingers worship her body.

(your face in my eyes, and mine in thine)

He feels the muscles of her stomach contract underneath his mouth, either from his kisses or from his hand between her legs and either way he smiles at it.

"Is--are you--" and it's almost important except she's not sure what it was she was going to ask because words are too hard and she thinks he's still trying to make her explode and she's trying not to but she knows it won't last and there's also thank God that is won't and she'll fail. This time, it's brilliant that she will.

It's just never been like this, and she wants to say either not your hand or more or something and she doesn't know what because she can't keep her eyes open anymore.

If she was ever dignified or anything except grabbing onto the sheets like it's all that keeps her here and gasping for breath, she can't remember it anymore, and she can't keep her hips still and God, "Love you," she manages because that one she knows, at least.

He knows it's good, so far, and she's close, but it's not good enough and she isn't close enough either and so after a moment there's him moving further down her body and gently but firmly pushing her legs out of the way.

Later, his face will colour with the memory of this, but it won't be embarassment so much as this rush of heat and desire and love, this longing to know every part of her body and love it all the same. But for now, he doesn't think on anything except how she tastes and how she feels and the small sounds that she's making. It's showing her how he loves her and how he wants her, and that she is this as well as friend and playmate and Queen and lady and wife.

"Caspian!" When she starts to say his name it's just with surprise, and then it's much more than that as she nearly jumps at the first touch, legs stiffening from where he's moved them to. And when she gasps his name at the first touch it just means oh God what are you doing and why haven't you before.

Oh, she'll explode, she thinks, and it's very sad, but it's his fault so he'll have to clean up the mess, and if he thinks it's easy keeping her legs to the side than he's out of his mind, but she's really, really trying.

She doesn't know what the this she is is, right now, because she doesn't feel like anything she has before. But she thinks she's wanted to, and she thinks she loves him more than anyone has a right to love another person, and she thinks his tongue moving like that is going to make her hand tighten in his hair if he does it again, and she thinks she's going to die from this all over again.

He laughs at that, and that is maybe teasing and maybe a little cruel, but he apologies for it almost instantly and without wasting words when he can be busy doing something else. And she gasps and she twists and he doesn't quite hold her down but if she wants freedom of movement, she won't be getting it.

Fortunately, it doesn't seem like she wants it terribly much.

She's shaking and her skin is flushed and she's never been so beautiful, ever. All Caspian wants is to move up beside her and watch her, but that will have to wait.

All she wants is to get closer and tries desperately to raise her hips.

It's probably cheating, to let her hand rub against her own breast, and she doesn't care right now because everything aches and everything's tight and oh, he's getting paid back for this, somehow, that's for certain.

"Caspian." It's like the only word she can form is his name. And every other one she ever knew is gone and she wants to say just please and she can't even get that out.

It's doubtful that he would really argue with any comeuppance she decides to lay on him after this.

But still, her saying his name like that, with her voice rough around the edges and heated and almost breaking--he wants to push her over the edge, to let her break and fall and come together again.

So he pushes.

Not if he's sense, no.

And he pushes and she gives up and she falls and she flies and her one hand is tight in his hair as her back arches off the bed and again the only thing she can say is just his name.

Her skin is warm and her face is burning and she's gasping for breath as she shakes under him.

"There," he whispers, looking up at her, and he moves gently until he's lying by her side again, and they can both collapse into the pillows and the bedclothes, his arm loose over her stomach and his eyes tracing her face with tired delight.

"I love you," he says, softly. She's just--

She's glowing and she's beautiful.

...Talking, right.

Just a minute. She just needs a minute.

And then she turns her head to just look at him, and it's still a little surprised, and it's almost awed, too, before leaning over and hesitantly kissing him. Because he was--and--but she loves him, and it's only hesitant for a moment, because it's kissing Caspian and she doesn't think she can ever be hesistant about that for long.

"Love you," she whispers when she pulls back to look at him again.

"Think you broke me," she admits, and thinks she'll never get out of this bed again.

He groans a little, and stretches contentedly against her side.

"You broke me first," he says, languidly, because he can be lazy now, and he likes that. And it seems his thoughts are moving along the same paths as heres, because he follows that with:

"I'm never getting up again. What do you think?"

"Mmm. Think I'm going to break you again," she answers as she attempts movement with something small. Like wiggling her toes. "And take a very, very long time doing it, til you do explode."

She just has to make it to moving her legs, now.

Yeeeah, just that.

"Also think never done that before," she says after a moment, softly, and her face is never going to stop being red, but it's a very nice feeling.

Caspian ducks his head, grinning, and his blush heats the pillow.

He has never looked quite so boyish.

"...No. Awfully nice, though."

He glances over at her, inexplicably a little shy now, despite the intimacies they've shared. "'m sorry," quickly. "About. Before." One hand comes up to push his hair back from his forehead.

"Was being an ass."

"Awfully," she agrees quickly, and then blushes at how quickly she agreed, and leans over to kiss his shoulder softly. And if she can avoid his face this way for a moment, while her cheeks burn with something different, that's okay. "I'll finish for you next time," Lucy promises against his skin, still not looking over at him. "And--it's--"

She stops and sighs and presses another kiss before rolling away and onto her back. It's a few moments before she speaks again, spent pushing her own hair back and looking at the ceiling.

"--You were," she says, finally, "but I guess I was too. I just--I don't know why you got so upset."

He thinks back on it, lying on his stomach with his arms under the pillow that's under his chin.

And the odd thing is...he hasn't any idea why he got so upset, either. Honestly, all she was trying to do was, well...

He blushes. But there weren't any patrons around and he'd still pushed her away. It makes no sense at all, now that he thinks on it.

"I...don't know," he admits, frowning a little. "I did know, back there. But now it doesn't seem like any of what I thought mattered really did matter after all."

"You're blushing," she murmurs, and can't help grinning a little. "What are you thinking?" she asks, rolling to her side and resting her chin on her arm.

And Lucy has to add, after a moment, softly, "I don't want to do anything with Lilly like I just did with you, you know. Just teasing you."

Oh, and that makes him hang his head, suddenly and horrbly uncomfortable, remembering heated words tossed back and forth.

"I know," he mumbles. "Just...that's what Lilly does. I just.

"It stung, a bit. Even not believing it."

He's not really that much of an idiot.