called_lioness | (no subject)

Oh, and she'd get back in for him, readily, but for now she strokes his hair and his face and his arms and his back and she's almost teary when she says back, "I'm sorry. I just. I wanted." You she doesn't say but it's almost always him and she pressing her face against his as she breathes in his smell. And it's like horses and the lake and the sun and maybe he needs the bath, but she doesn't care. She wanted and she didn't want to wait and she still wants.

Talking can be done later; he's vaguely aware that there are other things to say but he's forgiven for now and she's sad and he just wants to make her happy.

Really happy.

So he pulls her down again and rolls them both over and his weight presses her down into the bed. And it's so gorgeous, the way her hair spreads out on the sheets, and he kisses her softly, and says, "Lu, you're so lovely," breathlessly.

"I'm not," she says, because Susan's the pretty one and always has been, but she doesn't care.

"Love you, Caspian, so much," Lucy says, finally, and pulls his head down for another kiss, except she's still kind of greedy, she thinks, and she pulls one of his hands over her breast.

Because she really kinda likes that, and she wants to love him, and she wants to make him feel good, but oh, that feels good, even when it's just his palm resting over her chest.

She is wearing far too many clothes, and after a decent interval his hand moves to the hem of her shirt and slips up under it, up along her stomach and ribcage and her bra is still in the way but first things first. He kisses her like this is the last time he'll ever see her again, and who knows? Maybe it is! Everything here is so unpredictable all the time and he hates it, he hates not knowing what will happen,

But she's here now and he just loves her so much and wants her so that his entire body is thrumming with it and she's still wearing too much so he moves off of her and lifts the hem of her shirt up and over her head, tossing it to one side before bending to kiss her again and letting his hand move freely over her bare skin.

She doesn't really want to take her hands away from him, but she does long enough to unclasp her bra because his hands are clever, but some things are easier to just do yourself.

And the thing is she's suddenly shy, for all a moment ago she was pull his hand to her chest, and for all he's seen her before. Lucy still can't help blushing. But she didn't put her arms across her chest the first time and she doesn't now.

He's still got too many clothes on, and she's yanking at his shirt to try and get it off and push him onto his back.

"Hmmm," he hums helplessly as her hands brush over suddenly sensitive skin, and he helps, pulling off his shirt and pushing the material to one side, and Caspian without a shirt and wearing those worn and just-barely-ragged jeans might be just a boy from any time at all. His skin is flushed, and he lowers himself to trace the bottom of her ribcage with his mouth, kissing down along her stomach and her sides carefully.

"God," she bites out and she'd had a plan just a minute ago, which involved making him come apart under her hands and mouth, and she thought it was a good plan, but she can't think with his mouth doing that, can just run her hands along his back.

"Still need you," she murmurs, and she can't help blushing still but oh oh

oh

his mouth is clever, and that spot above her waistline makes her shake again.

He loves that, loves making her make that noise, loves knowing he can drive her crazy. He loves that she tips her head back and makes him want to kiss all the way up the curve it makes. In fact, there's nothing about Lucy that he doesn't love.

Still, it's teasing, what he does; kissing so softly and slowly and pulling down the waist of her skirt so that he can get to the soft rise of her hip and the soft skin just beside it.

It's teasing and it's mean and she doesn't want to wait any longer and also it's true that turnabout's fair play.

She wouldn't, admittedly, care if it was fair at the moment, just know that she grabs his shoulders when she catches her breath and it's both a firm and a hard push to get him onto his back and her straddling him, hand still on his shoulders.

"My turn." Because he was unfair earlier, too, and she can think on that now, with her breath caught, and she owes him for that. For making her wait, and a smile is on her face for a moment before she's kissing his shoulder. "Let me?" It's softer, and even if she's sitting on him it's very much a question as she kisses him again.

It isn't really as though he can think clearly when she's on top of him like this and all he can do is nod, breathless, and the image of what she had been trying to do down by the lake...

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to steady his breath and he rests his hands on her hips. And when he opens his eyes again, he smiles.

This is new and different and she likes it, as she murmurs, "Don't move," and starts to press kisses down his chest.

This time there's no fabric in the way, and she's grateful for that. His skin's salty and damp and warm and she's kissing but she also stops to just lick, curious, and taste, and it's really, really nice. Lucy kisses down his ribs, lips following one back and forth for a moment, kisses the spot above his belly button, kisses right above the waistline of the jeans, scooting down to reach lower more easily.

Her fingers are gentle as they slip into the top of the jeans, into the top of his boxers, and it's soft as she moves her mouth lower and presses a kiss between his legs. "Don't move," she repeats, and kisses again before sitting up enough to start to unbutton and unzip the jeans.

She says don't move and so he tries, for her he tries, but it's utter torture, the way she moves against him and the way her mouth moves over his skin, heating it and cooling it and moving oh so slowly.

And then her fingers move under his waistband and he takes a great shuddering breath.

But he doesn't move.

He's trying so hard, because that is what she wants.

"I love you," she says softly as she pulls his shoes off, pulls his jeans off, and kisses the side of his knee and the inside of his thigh before moving up more and kissing through the worn fabric again.

"So much. I'm sorry. I just--so much, Caspian," she sighs and hooks her fingers under the waistband to pull underwear off as well, so she can kiss him without any fabric in the way at all before starting to kiss her way back up his chest, fingers wrapping around him gently as she does so.

"More than anything else. Just you," she says, and the words are never enough and it frustrates her, but for now she strokes gently and kisses his left shoulder.

"Wait--"

He lifts a hand to stop her but then she feels so good and what he was going to say goes completely out of his mind, shortly followed by any of the rest of his coherent thoughts.

All he says now is oh and Lucy and he tips his head back into the pillow and now he couldn't stop moving even if it was the only thing in the world she wanted him to do.

She whispers, "Told you not to move," and her hand slows, but it doesn't stop as she nuzzles at his neck.

Lucy twists, a little, turns and lowers herself, and she's still touching him lightly and slowly as she kisses the inside of his thigh again.

"Which way's better?" she asks, quietly, and without quite moving her mouth away from his skin, because she doesn't know this yet.

"I can't help it," he gasps, and he looks at her and his eyes burn with want and love, and then he groans at her question and only nods and says "it's good," breathlessly, which is about all he can manage.

It is very good, and between the heat of her touch and the rum burning through his veins he feels as though he might simply explode under her touch.

She just laughs, and it's a quiet sound that's happy, and then her mouth is busy and if she's laughing you could only tell if you felt it from her body against yours or from seeing the ways her eyes dance.

It's different, and she's not sure what she's doing, and it's messy, but he can't keep from moving, even when she tries to stop his hips with her hands, and he said it was good. And she knows he means it, so she smooths her hands across the curves of his hips and presses, firm, to keep him just a little more still, and Lucy's eyes are still laughing.

And then there are no words; only gasps and his body shaking uncontrollably and he can't meet Lucy's eyes because when he does it's too much and he thinks he will break right here.

"Oh please," he says, and his hands clench in the sheets and clearly he should have listened to Lucy well before this.

One of her hands reaches up from his hip to touch one of his where it's clenching the sheets, to wrap around it and squeeze it tight, and Lucy just tries to give him what she can and hold his hand as she shifts her weight over him again and lifts her head. The one hand holds his and the other goes back to stroking and she pulls herself up, and all she says before kissing him is, "Love you," and it's a weird mixture of tastes, really, the taste of his skin and sweat and the inside of his mouth, and she likes it a lot.

And it's not enough, still, and she's aching, but she meets his eyes with hers and it's oh so worth it to see his face like this.

His eyes are wide and there's something almost lazy about them, if it weren't for the heat rising in the familiar gray.

"I love you," he echoes, softly, and then he grins and pulls her closer and rolls them over to their sides, his arms strong around her and his legs twining with hers. There's material in the way, and he pushes at it, down her hips and legs and then there is only skin, pink and heated and sweating and soft.

It's wet and damp and kinda really messy in a different way--this one she's used to--as her hand slips between them for a minute and then her leg goes around his and pulls tight. And he's closer than she is, but it's okay, because it has to last longer over all this way--because damned if the ache isn't being satisfied after today--and she puts one arm behind his shoulder blades while the other hand cradles the back of his head, and it's almost gentle.

"Didn't let me finish for you," she manages as she lets her eyes close and enjoys the way he fills her, rocks a little to try and make it rub the right spot.

"Would've."

"Too good," he says, and it's mostly a laugh and partly a groan, and one hand touches her hair and the other moves to her breast and they move slow and sweet and hot together.

He closes hie eyes and leans his forehead against her shoulder, and he can concentrate now on making her feel the things he feels, and his hand moves down between their bodies to touch her as gently as she'd touch him before.

"Caspian." And there have to be more things than his name, there do, but she can't think of what matter as much or more as she's half-startled by his touch and rocks hard against his hands for more. Except. Except. Except maybe she can think of one other thing, as least, which is "please". It's more whimpered than asked, soft and by his ear, as her on head rests on his shoulder.

Lucy forgets for a moment how to do anything but try for more of the touch, try to just feel more, because it isn't enough.

There's more, and it's still gentle but soon it becomes insistent and coaxing. He watches as her eyes flutter open and closed, and he shudders at the sounds she's making, unaware that similiar noises are coming unbidden from the back of his own throat.

He's always know that Lucy was gorgeous and that he always, always wants her and that he loves her past all bounds of reason, but somehow he just hasn't quite remembered until now. So he kisses her neck and takes her by the hips and rolls onto his back, carrying her up onto his chest. It isn't slow, it isn't sweet; it's fast and needy and he loves being able to look up into her face. He always has the control.

He gives it to her tonight.

It almost hurts how much she wants and how much more and that's really the word that keeps coming back to her brain, just "more" as she looks down at him and her shoulders shake. Not like the first time, not really, and not like almost any other time she can think of, except maybe Vegas, and that was nice, except.

Except she gets to decide, this time, and she can't lift him against the wall but she can brace herself up, hands on his shoulders, and kiss him hard and deep before managing, "God, I--" And she has to bite the last word off because his hand is being clever on her chest, before finishing, "--could do this forever." It might kill her all over again, but she wouldn't, really, mind, because he looks different from this angle and handsome, and she means it when she said forever, or at least he's not sleeping soon, and she deliberately slows her movements as she kisses him again.

Mostly because she can, and she wants more, but she also wants to hear him make some of those noises again, and it's urgent, but not as much for her as for him, and she still owes him.

Just a little.