[ A reasonable objection despite the low, facetious tone. Letting his hands slip away from the blooming-wild heat of her, he takes a moment to peel off his buttondown shirt and his tee-shirt -- (he remembers Amber had teased him once, saying that boys look ridiculous in shirt-tails and undershorts) -- then wraps his arms around Korra again. He cradles her tight for a moment, feeling her soft breasts squashed against his bare chest, the press of her ribs and belly against his whipcord muscles and sharp, weaponish bones. Breathes in the scent at the crook of her long dark neck, where her pulse visibly tics, before sucking a kiss-shaped blotch of redness against the skin. ]
[ She isn't Amber, but that doesn't stop him from reveling in the sweet idiosyncrasies of her body. The way she is a jumble of angles and muscular planes, half tomboyish in her tall solidity but with those heavy curves that are so warm and ripe against his palms, handfuls of flesh dimpling where he digs his fingers into them. ]
[ Humming low in his throat, he lifts her -- not as if she's light as a doll, but as if she's a warm sleek spill of fur draped around him. Rearranging her so she straddles him, against the hardening knot of his erection, restrained by his trousers. One hand splays across her lower-back, a cool anchor. The other unfastens the button of her jeans, his palm slipping between them and the slope of her belly, dipping low to curl around her sex, fingers tangled in the damp curls. ]
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Date: 2014-11-12 04:03 am (UTC)[ A reasonable objection despite the low, facetious tone. Letting his hands slip away from the blooming-wild heat of her, he takes a moment to peel off his buttondown shirt and his tee-shirt -- (he remembers Amber had teased him once, saying that boys look ridiculous in shirt-tails and undershorts) -- then wraps his arms around Korra again. He cradles her tight for a moment, feeling her soft breasts squashed against his bare chest, the press of her ribs and belly against his whipcord muscles and sharp, weaponish bones. Breathes in the scent at the crook of her long dark neck, where her pulse visibly tics, before sucking a kiss-shaped blotch of redness against the skin. ]
[ She isn't Amber, but that doesn't stop him from reveling in the sweet idiosyncrasies of her body. The way she is a jumble of angles and muscular planes, half tomboyish in her tall solidity but with those heavy curves that are so warm and ripe against his palms, handfuls of flesh dimpling where he digs his fingers into them. ]
[ Humming low in his throat, he lifts her -- not as if she's light as a doll, but as if she's a warm sleek spill of fur draped around him. Rearranging her so she straddles him, against the hardening knot of his erection, restrained by his trousers. One hand splays across her lower-back, a cool anchor. The other unfastens the button of her jeans, his palm slipping between them and the slope of her belly, dipping low to curl around her sex, fingers tangled in the damp curls. ]