[ Hei hides the curve of his smile against her throat. Her little teeth scraping his ear, the alluring plumpness of her body, turns his brain heat-warped and dizzy. He wishes he could tell her how beautiful she looks -- with those wispy little nothings on, or without them. But he's never going to have a career as a metaphysical poet. Words lie parallel to lies, anyway -- and right now he wants just this. Dusky smooth-polished skin, and spicy dollops of banter, and this sweet, empty evening, nowhere to be but here. ]
[ Sinking back against the futon, he gathers her in closer, so she's perched in his lap. Not pretzeling his legs with hers like always -- it would be uncomfortable with the swell of her belly in the way -- but just a heavy, heated plait of arms, her thighs straddling his, the pretty blue eyes a skylit opposition gazing down into his own. ]
[ Tipping his head up, he kisses her again -- slow, tongue-tracing, soft. Presses his mouth to her ear, her collarbone, the upper curve of her breast. Her scent overwhelms him: it's changed since the pregnancy, like the way she tastes. A tang that makes her blood run hotter, her skin more tart -- and which makes him teeter between greed and uncertainty. ]
[ Humming, he buries his face in her lace-swagged breasts, open-mouthed. Hot breath and bristles prickle her skin through the fabric as he takes a nipple between his lips, then his teeth -- teasing, testing. Rolling it between the softly-scratchy lace and hard enamel, laving it with wet tongue, seeing what sensations the combination creates, whether she likes it or wants it rougher. ]
no subject
[ Sinking back against the futon, he gathers her in closer, so she's perched in his lap. Not pretzeling his legs with hers like always -- it would be uncomfortable with the swell of her belly in the way -- but just a heavy, heated plait of arms, her thighs straddling his, the pretty blue eyes a skylit opposition gazing down into his own. ]
[ Tipping his head up, he kisses her again -- slow, tongue-tracing, soft. Presses his mouth to her ear, her collarbone, the upper curve of her breast. Her scent overwhelms him: it's changed since the pregnancy, like the way she tastes. A tang that makes her blood run hotter, her skin more tart -- and which makes him teeter between greed and uncertainty. ]
[ Humming, he buries his face in her lace-swagged breasts, open-mouthed. Hot breath and bristles prickle her skin through the fabric as he takes a nipple between his lips, then his teeth -- teasing, testing. Rolling it between the softly-scratchy lace and hard enamel, laving it with wet tongue, seeing what sensations the combination creates, whether she likes it or wants it rougher. ]