[ And then she's kissing him, firmly, fiercely, letting his hands slip free to settle at her waist as the one that had held his wrist finds purchase in the cushions behind him while the other slides up his chest, hooks around his neck in order to cup the back of his head. She's fast, yes, and thorough, a soft hum of appreciation in her throat following as she presses up against him.]
[This is comfortable, easy, like they've been doing this for a while. Her ferocity is familiar, and he gives as good as he gets while he tries not to absolutely melt. Maybe those hands start to work under her shirt to feel up some skin, pull her closer.]
[ Her back arches a little as his hand slides under her shirt, and she shifts her seat, presses the knee between his legs a little higher while right hand drags down his neck, mindful of the port there at the top of his spine.
It's been far too long since the last time she's been relaxed enough to do this, to press up against someone else, to want and feel wanted - even if not all of it is real, even if it isn't hers. Or rather, not hers specifically. It's nice. It's more than nice, and her smile is crooked as she draws back briefly from the kiss, more than a little appreciative. ]
You are good at that.
[Kissing, that is. She could almost envy York that, except she doesn't have to because she's the one kissing him right now, isn't she?]
[He tries to avoid the ports, though it's hard when all he wants to do is feel up every inch of her spine and all the muscles down her back. His legs shift a little wider, encouraging her meander closer between them.]
Why thank you. Comes with practice. [He grins boyishly, leaning in to leave little pecks along her jaw.] I can give you plenty of that if you'd like.
[ So long as they're careful, those fingers can wander where they please so long as they don't poke what is better left alone. Learning, relearning, the lines of her scars and where they cross muscle has her almost purring, sliding closer, moving to straddle his lap properly. ]
Practice does make perfect.
[and goodness knows she's always been something of a perfectionist, tilting her chin up and head back to let him trail kisses down her throat if he wishes.
Yet something feels off, at least there's a quiet insistance in the back of her head that tells her so. She tries to set that feeling aside and yet.. (--A lack of quick and clever fingers running over both of them and no warmth from--) ]
[And that throat is looking mighty tasty, don't mind if he does. Sure, there's a...missing component to this, but they can always start without him, right? He knows her skin and where to touch as if he's known it for years, even though he had no idea before now.
That should bother him. That should bother him like the faded memory of a husband and child should bother him, but again, being in the moment, in that memory however false it might be, feels real.
And she is definitely in his lap, and he is definitely kissing her. That's real. The way he makes her top ride up while he touches her is real.]
[ They can definitely continue now they've begun. Right now, Carolina doesn't feel any urge to dissuade Malcolm from tracing paths up and down her sides. She's returning the favour, after all; while he teasing his way up beneath her shirt she rubs one hand lightly along the side of his neck and across his collarbone, all the better to start making light work of unbuttoning his shirt. Slow, teasing, parting his shirt that little bit wider as the fabric gives way, tracing patterns with her finger tips as she goes.
Eyes fall half-closed, lashes low, and turns her head to nuzzle his jaw lightly. This feels good, and given how life has been for them both lately, they deserve to enjoy this, don't they? ]
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Action; Day 158 - late morning
[ And then she's kissing him, firmly, fiercely, letting his hands slip free to settle at her waist as the one that had held his wrist finds purchase in the cushions behind him while the other slides up his chest, hooks around his neck in order to cup the back of his head. She's fast, yes, and thorough, a soft hum of appreciation in her throat following as she presses up against him.]
Action; Day 158 - late morning
Action; Day 158 - late morning
It's been far too long since the last time she's been relaxed enough to do this, to press up against someone else, to want and feel wanted - even if not all of it is real, even if it isn't hers. Or rather, not hers specifically. It's nice. It's more than nice, and her smile is crooked as she draws back briefly from the kiss, more than a little appreciative. ]
You are good at that.
[Kissing, that is. She could almost envy York that, except she doesn't have to because she's the one kissing him right now, isn't she?]
Action; Day 158 - late morning
Why thank you. Comes with practice. [He grins boyishly, leaning in to leave little pecks along her jaw.] I can give you plenty of that if you'd like.
Action; Day 158 - late morning
Practice does make perfect.
[and goodness knows she's always been something of a perfectionist, tilting her chin up and head back to let him trail kisses down her throat if he wishes.
Yet something feels off, at least there's a quiet insistance in the back of her head that tells her so. She tries to set that feeling aside and yet.. (--A lack of quick and clever fingers running over both of them and no warmth from--) ]
Action; Day 158 - late morning
That should bother him. That should bother him like the faded memory of a husband and child should bother him, but again, being in the moment, in that memory however false it might be, feels real.
And she is definitely in his lap, and he is definitely kissing her. That's real. The way he makes her top ride up while he touches her is real.]
Action; Day 158 - late morning
Eyes fall half-closed, lashes low, and turns her head to nuzzle his jaw lightly. This feels good, and given how life has been for them both lately, they deserve to enjoy this, don't they? ]