[ Now that is interesting, she thinks to herself, noting how that mark lingers angry and red for merely the span of a few seconds before fading altogether; she has a dimmer recollection of his skin being completely unmarred as they'd left the woods that day while her own had born the brunt of it, scrapes and cuts from twigs and a rough and unforgiving ground beneath her, but she'd been too addled to attribute it to anything at the time, the effects of the injection still continuing to wear off. Now, however, she can't quite strike the open fascination in her gaze, not so distracted that she overlooks his ability to heal so quickly.
On sudden impulse, she presses her fingertips into his chest, digs in hard enough for him to feel the blunt rounds of her nails before dragging them down, leaving thin red lines in their wake — not with the intention of cutting but rather to make that blood rush up beneath the surface of the skin again, vivid and inviting more scratching against that unmarred complexion.
Her breath catches at the sight of it before she can truly repress the response, lashes fluttering briefly — but that's only a small shade next to her reaction when he gathers up that delicate fabric in his hands, wrinkling it in a fisting grip.
And then he pulls, hard enough to drag her hips, and the harsh sound of that silk being torn apart makes her gasp, tilt her head to claim his mouth, to let all her subsequent moans dissolve in the fervor of their kissing while he rids her of that obstacle without her needing to disentangle herself from her perch atop him.
It brings with it a renewed rush of wanting between her legs, that dimmer pulse now an undeniable throbbing, a brighter flush residing in her cheeks as her lips part from his and her eyes search his face, fingers lightly cupping his jaw. ]
no subject
On sudden impulse, she presses her fingertips into his chest, digs in hard enough for him to feel the blunt rounds of her nails before dragging them down, leaving thin red lines in their wake — not with the intention of cutting but rather to make that blood rush up beneath the surface of the skin again, vivid and inviting more scratching against that unmarred complexion.
Her breath catches at the sight of it before she can truly repress the response, lashes fluttering briefly — but that's only a small shade next to her reaction when he gathers up that delicate fabric in his hands, wrinkling it in a fisting grip.
And then he pulls, hard enough to drag her hips, and the harsh sound of that silk being torn apart makes her gasp, tilt her head to claim his mouth, to let all her subsequent moans dissolve in the fervor of their kissing while he rids her of that obstacle without her needing to disentangle herself from her perch atop him.
It brings with it a renewed rush of wanting between her legs, that dimmer pulse now an undeniable throbbing, a brighter flush residing in her cheeks as her lips part from his and her eyes search his face, fingers lightly cupping his jaw. ]