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[called_lioness]

Her husband is stupid, Lucy concludes while in the bath.

She read that book of Mary's, she thinks as she gets out and dries and dresses again, and she could tell he was enjoying it and he got all upset just because she happens to think Lilly Kane is pretty and fun to flirt with and then he had to go and be stupid, and by go she means not be with her, dammit.

And she just finished her last chocolate bar, too.

Dammit dammit dammit.

None of it's fair, and he's not here and she should just go to her room. She should. That would show him. Or she could go snog Lilly. She'd at least get snogged without stupid talking then.





She really wants him to come home, though.

Dammit.

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[the_seafarer]

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.

[called_lioness]

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.

[the_seafarer]

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.

[called_lioness]

"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.

[the_seafarer]

"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.

[called_lioness]

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.

[the_seafarer]

"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.

[called_lioness]

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.

[the_seafarer]

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.

[called_lioness]

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.

[the_seafarer]

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.

[called_lioness]

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."

[the_seafarer]

"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.

[called_lioness]

"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.

[the_seafarer]

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.

[called_lioness]

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.

[the_seafarer]

Oh.

Oh.

If he'd known she could be like this--if he'd ever stopped to think about her hair falling around her shoulders and the muscles of her stomach and arms tightening and relaxing and god, she's just so beautiful and he just loves her so much. It's worth being dead and looking forever seventeen because he finally gets Lucy and it hits him.

He finally has Lucy. She's here, and she loves him and she wants him and she's married him and his hands tighten on her hips and he manages "Oh Lu, I want" before she's taken his breath away again and what air he manages to get is stuck in his throat and his chest.

He's glad he has this body to please her with, and he's glad she has hers, even though it means they don't look the ages they are but somehow it just doesn't matter anymore, except that he has decided they definitely haven't been using what they've been given to their advantage up until tonight.

[called_lioness]

And she really wants to use her body and his every way she can think of, even if some of them would normally make her cheeks red, because even like this--even, especially, one of those--maybe being almost-nineteen forever has its benefits and they really have to find out what they are and tonight is the best time to do that ever, Lucy thinks.

"Come on, then," she says against his ear and lets her fingers play with one of the nubs on his chest before she's running teeth along earlobe and jawline and neck, and she really could stand going faster and doesn't anyway. "S'all yours."

It's hard, but his hands tighten on her hips and it's worth it to move slowly as she lifts her head to look down at him and says, a little bit not realizing, "Beautiful," when she sees his expression.

[the_seafarer]

He smiles up at her, breathing hard and his hair is dark with sweat against his forehead.

It's a bit of an effort, especially the way she is on his chest, but it's an effort that's more than worth it as he tightens and lifts and sits up to meet her, tugging her down and into him with an arm around the small of her back the other hand roaming up her side. Part of the joy of all this is movement and skin against skin and he laughs a little because they have to rearrange themselves a bit, but laughing is good too, and this way they are so much closer and so much tighter. He can take what he wants and give everything back, and if that isn't what should be happening always with Lucy

(Lucy, Lucy Lucy, he loves the name, and it's echoing repeatedly in his mind, he can't ever get her quite out of his head and he loves it)

then he doesn't know what else it might be.

[called_lioness]

It's a shift, when he sits up, and sometimes she thinks it's entirely unfair for him that he doesn't get to see what that's like from this perspective, because it makes her breathe out his name again like it's a prayer. Because he shifts his arms around her and he brushes different in her, and she doesn't care how long it takes as long as every moment's even a little like that.

"Want to see your face," she says softly into his skin before pulling her head back enough to watch him. "Need to," breathed again as she stares at his eyes, "when you get what you want," and she squeezes, hard, as she says that, does it on purpose and wants to see how undone she can make him, eyes not moving from his as she kisses him again.

He tastes, she thinks, like rum and chocolate and his sweat and hers mixed on their skin and tea and himself, and it's all in an instant before she tightens muscles again because for all she wants a lot right now, to see the look he gets at the moment when he falls (except not really, because she used to think of it as falling and slipping and now it's not, she thinks, it's flying) is highest on the list, because it's so sweet to see and hers, and she won't share this, not ever, not with anyone. No one gets to see it except her.

[the_seafarer]

No one, no one ever but her and he'd repeat it like a mantra if only he could speak coherently. She squeezes and it shoots through him like electricity, and the thought crosses his mind that Lucy could have had anyone she wanted, really, and she wants him and he has never been so lucky in his entire life.

It's so hard to keep from kissing her shoulder--he wants to taste her, wants to find that spot at the meeting of neck and shoulder that makes her come undone--but she asked and so he obeys. He can't help closing his eyes as she moves, though--it's so sweet and it makes him ache and it isn't a shock of lightning this time, it's hot and sweet like the chocolate he'd drank.

"Just want you," and it's a gasp, all he can manage when she's doing these things to him, things she'd tried to do by the lake and that image along with her hands on his shoulders and her legs around him. This is something they've always shared--give and take and moving towards the breaking point together but it has never been quite like this before, with Lucy doing that and so intent and "Oh god," he says, and it's a low groan.

[called_lioness]

She likes this, she realizes, very clearly, likes to see him shake on the edge as she moves towards it, likes it better, almost, that she's behind him this time and can focus a bit more clearly on his expression. She likes that she knows how he tastes all over, now, and she likes that it warms her face if she thinks on it, and she likes that she can make him stay back so she can see his face.

She doesn't like that she can't see his eyes, but she can accept it, because he's let her be in control this time, for the first time, and Lucy likes that best of all.

"Yes. Like that," she says softly and reaches her hand down to trace at his skin where they're joined, her other hand cupping the back of his head. "Exactly like that."

[the_seafarer]

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.

[called_lioness]

"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.

[the_seafarer]

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.