[She regards him for a few seconds, silent and contemplative. She's still a little tense, uncertain as to what they're doing or how to navigate it, but some of the frustration has faded.]
Come here.
[She reaches for his wrist, slender fingers wrapping around it. Tugging him along, she pulls him into her bedroom. Not for sex, although he might be forgiven for thinking it. But no, just to sit somewhere a little more intimate while they discuss this, rather than simply standing in the hall, half-arguing.
Unlike the rest of the apartment, which is solely a lab and little else, this, at least, feels homey. Painted in deep reds with gold accents, there's books stacked neatly here and there, a desk with a journal on it-- and around that, several pieces of paper. There's drawings there, lightly sketched in pencil: a young man, a city, a lighthouse . . .
But for now: she sits on the bed.]
Tell me, now, and tell me plainly: what is it, exactly, you'd like some kind of-- of sexual relationship to mean?
[He follows her and he does think she means to have him, but they only sit on the bed and that settles him more than the prospect of some carnal encounter when his mind is scattered about with different feelings for her. He looks down at her hands where she's holding him, and Jonathan twists his wrist so that he's holding her hand.]
Plainly? I... do not know. Connection? Friendship? Those acts I have engaged in absent some... outside force, they have been with those I feel closest to. I've used equipment for such encounters, asked leave of my friends not to participate for fear of losing myself and harming them. I have not been with a woman here as you ask. And so, I do not know.
[His hand is pleasantly large, his fingers interlacing with hers. He's cooler than she always expects, but it's no bad thing. And she can admit: it is rather nice to be here like this, quiet and, if not intimate, at least softer.]
And what is it you would like, if you and I went to bed now? When we aren't clouded by-- by drugs or lust or whatever other affects this city forces upon us. When it's just you and I.
[Jonathan wavers for a moment as he sorts out an answer that isn't 'more of your blood,' which is the immediate response that comes to mind.]
To have you? Gently. I know that I am... that we have not been gentle with one another. I should like to try it, though. Not all of me is rage and violence. I would like to show you that.
[Is it a bad idea to do such a thing in this space, so like her bedroom at home? Almost assuredly. And yet what he wants isn't so far from what she does too: something that isn't drenched in hedonism and sadism. Something easy and soft. Something intimate.
So she reaches for him, leaning up to kiss him. Not the spiteful, defiant kisses of the alley, but rather something soft, their lips meeting sweetly.]
[He tenses up for a moment, but then relaxes, parting his lips and tilting his head to meet her more fully. Jonathan slips an arm around her waist, pulling her a little closer to himself. When they break for a moment, his voice is quiet, but firm.]
If I try to bite you, we must stop. You must vanish away. I do not want... I cannot stand that part of me being a part of this.
[This moment when he's trying so desperately to just be human again.]
[She really will, too. Because he asks for his sake, not hers, and she has no problem with acquiescing to a desire like that.
She shifts, moving with his hand-- and then, impatient to the last, moves altogether, kicking off her boots and perching in his lap. It's much easier that way, in her opinion; she settles easily, her legs spreading a little, skirt rising as she leans up to kiss him again. It's still a slow kiss, for all she's in his lap. She has every intention of doing nothing but kissing, languid and heated, for a fair amount of time.]
[Jonathan doesn't mind the shift, really. His hands slide to her hips, then down as he moves to pull up her dress and settle them on her thighs. He hums a deep, pleased note against her lips and closes his eyes, trying not to think about Elisabeth. About the fact that he's giving this thing that should be hers to a woman who looks so very much like her.
He'll try to take some control of the kiss, not quite acquiescing immediately to allowing Rosalind free reign over his mouth. He doesn't want her dealing with his fangs really, and that and his care with his claws likely make him come off as very hesitant in her arms.]
[Control is fine. Hesitance less so, but she'll forgive it for the moment. His mouth grows harder, setting the pace, and she matches it hungrily, eagerly, her hips rocking down in a quiet sign of approval. One hand blindly lifts, reaching back, tugging at the pins in her hair, til it falls down in thick strands around her face.
She's panting when she pulls back, licking her lips and savoring how swollen they feel already. She draws in a breath, seems to think better of it, and instead:]
Help me with my dress?
[A question, not a demand-- and a far gentler way of easing into this than her simply stripping it off herself.]
[His hands are already under her skirt, but he lifts them out to reach for her bodice and undo the hooks or buttons of it. He takes his time, looking up at her as he goes.]
I like your hair like this. It's... fire, the flames wrapped round you. Caressing, but never burning.
[Oh . . . that's sweet, if not a little cloying. But it reminds her of Robert, his blatant plagiarizing from Marlowe as he endeared her to him with clumsy poetry and earnest intentions.
So she's smiling, but it's not in mockery. Just pleasure, as the front of her dress falls open, revealing black lace and pale skin. He moves so slowly, taking his time, his fingers gentle as he pries open button after button, til at last she shifts, tugging the garment over her head.]
Few get to see it this way. I very rarely have it down.
[Even when she sleeps with others, she usually keeps it in a braid. Her fingers reach for him, sliding gently over his cheek, through his hair, before dropping down to tug at his shirt's buttons. She moves just as slowly as him, almost delicate in the way she bares him for her, her eyes locked on his throat, his chest-- and it's all very routine, if not intimate, until--]
Oh.
[She says it softly, entirely to herself, and presses her lips together a moment later, hating that she'd said anything.]
[Jonathan closes his eyes at her touch, leaning into the warmth of her hand on his cheek for the moment that it's there. While she's after his shirt, Jonathan strokes his hands up along her sides, letting his claws trail light pink scratches along the way. Her quiet exclamation does catch his attention, though, and he directs his attention down to where she's looking, wondering if there's something amiss.
Nothing immediately jumps out at him. It's just his body.]
Is my... mark unusual?
[He cranes his neck a bit and sits up straighter to look down his own shirt, hands pausing on her.]
I hadn't realized it was so soon after the war for you.
[But while she'd been embarrassed at her mistake, she isn't embarrassed by her attraction. Pushing his shirt off, she slides her fingers down his chest, over the sharp curve of his abdomen, biting her lip a little as she does.
She glances up at him, and it's with a great deal more warm amusement. She leans in, kissing him again-- and it's most certainly hungry this time, as her palms go flat against his shoulders, his chest, sliding over him in languid exploration.]
[It's pleasant, the warmth of her hands sliding across the cold plains of his body. Jonathan draws in a deep breath out of habit and sighs just before her lips press to his once more.
With her top out of the way, he lets his own hands go wandering. He's touched her before, of course, pawed at her with desperate need, mind addled with mistletoe. But this is less a conquest and more a sortie. He lets his claws stroke, his icy fingers drag and tease, at her sides and up her back.
The compliment has freed him of some of his initial trepidation, as have Rosalind's ready lips. The temptation to bite her teases at the back of his mind. Just a nip, just a tiny bit of blood. It would barely be anything, and he suspects she'd rather enjoy it, masochist that she is.
They start to break for her to take a breath and Jonathan catches her lower lip with his teeth. One of his fangs rests just so, a little more pressure and she'll be bleeding.]
[Her panties are growing wet, rocking against his growing hardness-- and for once in this city, Rosalind is fine with that. She's a little impatient, but not overwhelmingly so.
She likes this, she finds. She likes going slow, sweet; she likes being able to arch her back and feel his cold fingers slide over her skin (and oh, she shudders, her nipples peaking in an instant; she leans forward, pressing herself against him, moaning softly at the contact).
His fang presses against her bottom lip, and she inhales sharply. It's beyond tempting to let him taste her. Just a tip of her head and he'd draw blood, and oh, she'd love that. She really would, and so would he.
But he made her promise that they wouldn't involve blood in this, and she values consent more and more here. With a sharp inhale she pulls back, licking her lip (still uncut).]
I don't mind. I'd like you to. But do you want that? To-- to taste me that way?
[Her hips keep rocking down gently, grinding against him, not so much teasing as simply keeping things going. The last thing she wants is for him to go stiff again, balking at the hint of sadism or vampirism.]
[She's making it a little harder to think when she's working his cock like that. He's fully hard at this point and would likely be leaking pre-cum if it were something he could still do.
Blood works perfectly fine as a lubricant, doesn't it? He can see her dripping in red. He's already had a taste tonight and that microwaved glass only feeds the edges of his hunger, making the rest of it more intense.
No. No. Jonathan shakes his head.]
No. Thank you for asking. But... no.
[Jonathan lowers his head to nuzzle between her breasts, licking a cold stripe up to her throat in a mockery of the line that paints his own neck and chest. He drags his claws down her back more sharply, but is still careful not to dig deep enough to draw her blood. It's just at the edge of that, though.]
[Some other time, she thinks, and then doesn't think at all, because he's tending to her and that's enough to make her mind go quiet, just for a moment. Her breath catches, her head tipping back as she surges forward, pressing herself against him.]
Oh--
[She likes tongues and mouths, what can she say? Her hand reaches back, yanking at the catch on her bra, shuddering as it springs free.]
[Jonathan pulls away enough that he can pull her bra away once it's undone. He decides he can afford to be just a little teasing when she's sounding just a little desperate.]
Like this?
[He brushes his beard over one of her breasts, barely touching his lips to it in small pecks. His eyes go up to her, and there's some playful mischief there. They've reached past the point of him being completely awkward, so he can relax into this a little more. He needs to take his trousers off soon, though. The fabric is chafing on his full cock, and it's almost a little painful with it trapped still.]
[Desperate isn't quite the right word for it, but it might soon be. He slides his lips over her, the barest brushes of heat and wetness, and a surge of frustration wells up in her. No, not like that, and she knows he's still new at this, but honestly, what kind of man--
And then she glances down, meeting his eyes, and realizes.
Oh. He's playing with her.
Oh, and while none of the tension eases out of her, some of the irritation has. Her frown melts into something closer to a scowl. Or, possibly, a pout, except she'd rather die than admit she ever makes an expression so stupid. Her legs spread wider, her hips rocking down pointedly, because if she's being teased she'll do it right back.]
If you want me to tell you what to do, Jonathan, you only have to say. But I thought you rather disliked my bossing you.
[She arches her back again, reaching around to wrap her fingers around the back of his neck, carding up through his hair, gripping it tightly.]
[The heavier grinding makes him squirm, and he forgets himself for a moment as his claws dig into her just a little too much and draw blood at the small of her back. The scent of it hits him, and he tries to ignore it, focusing on her face, instead.]
Let us settle on you making requests that I may grant as I please.
[Then she is neither bossing nor begging. It's semantics, but perhaps it would do well for both their egos. He does offer a little more to soothe over any sting of pain from his nails. Jonathan kisses her breasts more fully, open-mouthed with some pressure at the end to leave small marks on her skin.
He starts to lie back as he's working her, drawing her with him. He intends to roll them over in a moment, but he'll let her enjoy her position as they go down.]
[Her eyes close, her body moving languidly as he lies them both down. She can feel blood dripping down her back, not so much to be worrying but just enough that she knows it must be a distraction. So she reaches behind her, taking his hands, threading their fingers together as she gently pushes them above his head. Pinning him down, almost, except it's a laughably light hold, more about thought than true execution.
Her hips shift lower, and she ends up face to face with him, tipping her head to catch him in a kiss.]
Then may I request you come put your mouth to better use?
[She says it softly, speaking against his mouth, and nips at his bottom lip just once before she sits up. Her hands go to her skirt, unzipping it briskly, before reaching down. She won't be so cruel as to force him to stay in his trousers; within a moment she's opened them, tugging them down low on his hips.]
[Jonathan isn't entirely sure how much he likes his hands being redirected away from her, but he allows it for the time being as she's not putting any real pressure behind the action. He leaves his hands up above his head as they kiss, but the moment she removes her grip, the vampire is back to touching her.
He lifts his hips for her to slide his trousers down, sliding his touch up her abdomen and to her breasts. Jonathan can see the tiny trails of blood his claws are leaving at first and tries not to focus on them. She might notice his attention dipping down, though, even as he alternates between massaging her and stroking down of her her nipples.]
[Her breath catches time and again, but it's not hard to notice his attention is wandering. Not off her entirely, thank god, or she might sulk, but rather towards something he isn't allowed.]
Jonathan.
[She says it with just a hint of a tremor in her voice, because his fingers are teasingly delicate and she's sensitive, amped up by how slow they're going.]
Look at me. Tell me. Do you want me to bandage myself?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2019-01-13 04:13 am (UTC)From:Come here.
[She reaches for his wrist, slender fingers wrapping around it. Tugging him along, she pulls him into her bedroom. Not for sex, although he might be forgiven for thinking it. But no, just to sit somewhere a little more intimate while they discuss this, rather than simply standing in the hall, half-arguing.
Unlike the rest of the apartment, which is solely a lab and little else, this, at least, feels homey. Painted in deep reds with gold accents, there's books stacked neatly here and there, a desk with a journal on it-- and around that, several pieces of paper. There's drawings there, lightly sketched in pencil: a young man, a city, a lighthouse . . .
But for now: she sits on the bed.]
Tell me, now, and tell me plainly: what is it, exactly, you'd like some kind of-- of sexual relationship to mean?
no subject
Date: 2019-01-13 06:53 am (UTC)From:Plainly? I... do not know. Connection? Friendship? Those acts I have engaged in absent some... outside force, they have been with those I feel closest to. I've used equipment for such encounters, asked leave of my friends not to participate for fear of losing myself and harming them. I have not been with a woman here as you ask. And so, I do not know.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-13 07:00 am (UTC)From:[His hand is pleasantly large, his fingers interlacing with hers. He's cooler than she always expects, but it's no bad thing. And she can admit: it is rather nice to be here like this, quiet and, if not intimate, at least softer.]
And what is it you would like, if you and I went to bed now? When we aren't clouded by-- by drugs or lust or whatever other affects this city forces upon us. When it's just you and I.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-14 05:22 am (UTC)From:To have you? Gently. I know that I am... that we have not been gentle with one another. I should like to try it, though. Not all of me is rage and violence. I would like to show you that.
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Date: 2019-01-14 06:06 am (UTC)From:[Is it a bad idea to do such a thing in this space, so like her bedroom at home? Almost assuredly. And yet what he wants isn't so far from what she does too: something that isn't drenched in hedonism and sadism. Something easy and soft. Something intimate.
So she reaches for him, leaning up to kiss him. Not the spiteful, defiant kisses of the alley, but rather something soft, their lips meeting sweetly.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-15 04:05 am (UTC)From:If I try to bite you, we must stop. You must vanish away. I do not want... I cannot stand that part of me being a part of this.
[This moment when he's trying so desperately to just be human again.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-15 09:51 am (UTC)From:[She really will, too. Because he asks for his sake, not hers, and she has no problem with acquiescing to a desire like that.
She shifts, moving with his hand-- and then, impatient to the last, moves altogether, kicking off her boots and perching in his lap. It's much easier that way, in her opinion; she settles easily, her legs spreading a little, skirt rising as she leans up to kiss him again. It's still a slow kiss, for all she's in his lap. She has every intention of doing nothing but kissing, languid and heated, for a fair amount of time.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-16 06:38 am (UTC)From:He'll try to take some control of the kiss, not quite acquiescing immediately to allowing Rosalind free reign over his mouth. He doesn't want her dealing with his fangs really, and that and his care with his claws likely make him come off as very hesitant in her arms.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-16 06:42 am (UTC)From:She's panting when she pulls back, licking her lips and savoring how swollen they feel already. She draws in a breath, seems to think better of it, and instead:]
Help me with my dress?
[A question, not a demand-- and a far gentler way of easing into this than her simply stripping it off herself.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-19 03:36 am (UTC)From:[His hands are already under her skirt, but he lifts them out to reach for her bodice and undo the hooks or buttons of it. He takes his time, looking up at her as he goes.]
I like your hair like this. It's... fire, the flames wrapped round you. Caressing, but never burning.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-19 04:29 am (UTC)From:So she's smiling, but it's not in mockery. Just pleasure, as the front of her dress falls open, revealing black lace and pale skin. He moves so slowly, taking his time, his fingers gentle as he pries open button after button, til at last she shifts, tugging the garment over her head.]
Few get to see it this way. I very rarely have it down.
[Even when she sleeps with others, she usually keeps it in a braid. Her fingers reach for him, sliding gently over his cheek, through his hair, before dropping down to tug at his shirt's buttons. She moves just as slowly as him, almost delicate in the way she bares him for her, her eyes locked on his throat, his chest-- and it's all very routine, if not intimate, until--]
Oh.
[She says it softly, entirely to herself, and presses her lips together a moment later, hating that she'd said anything.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-20 06:06 pm (UTC)From:Nothing immediately jumps out at him. It's just his body.]
Is my... mark unusual?
[He cranes his neck a bit and sits up straighter to look down his own shirt, hands pausing on her.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-20 08:18 pm (UTC)From:[This is stupid, and she goes a little red again.]
I wasn't expecting--
[She gestures impatiently-- and then, lest he take offense:]
I was, ah, expecting an academic's body. Not a soldier's.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-22 05:13 am (UTC)From:[Well. That's... a compliment. Certainly.]
I... I'd only just disembarked from the boat coming back from the front.
Thank you?
no subject
Date: 2019-01-22 05:18 am (UTC)From:I hadn't realized it was so soon after the war for you.
[But while she'd been embarrassed at her mistake, she isn't embarrassed by her attraction. Pushing his shirt off, she slides her fingers down his chest, over the sharp curve of his abdomen, biting her lip a little as she does.
She glances up at him, and it's with a great deal more warm amusement. She leans in, kissing him again-- and it's most certainly hungry this time, as her palms go flat against his shoulders, his chest, sliding over him in languid exploration.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-23 06:18 am (UTC)From:With her top out of the way, he lets his own hands go wandering. He's touched her before, of course, pawed at her with desperate need, mind addled with mistletoe. But this is less a conquest and more a sortie. He lets his claws stroke, his icy fingers drag and tease, at her sides and up her back.
The compliment has freed him of some of his initial trepidation, as have Rosalind's ready lips. The temptation to bite her teases at the back of his mind. Just a nip, just a tiny bit of blood. It would barely be anything, and he suspects she'd rather enjoy it, masochist that she is.
They start to break for her to take a breath and Jonathan catches her lower lip with his teeth. One of his fangs rests just so, a little more pressure and she'll be bleeding.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-23 06:32 am (UTC)From:She likes this, she finds. She likes going slow, sweet; she likes being able to arch her back and feel his cold fingers slide over her skin (and oh, she shudders, her nipples peaking in an instant; she leans forward, pressing herself against him, moaning softly at the contact).
His fang presses against her bottom lip, and she inhales sharply. It's beyond tempting to let him taste her. Just a tip of her head and he'd draw blood, and oh, she'd love that. She really would, and so would he.
But he made her promise that they wouldn't involve blood in this, and she values consent more and more here. With a sharp inhale she pulls back, licking her lip (still uncut).]
I don't mind. I'd like you to. But do you want that? To-- to taste me that way?
[Her hips keep rocking down gently, grinding against him, not so much teasing as simply keeping things going. The last thing she wants is for him to go stiff again, balking at the hint of sadism or vampirism.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-25 03:22 am (UTC)From:Blood works perfectly fine as a lubricant, doesn't it? He can see her dripping in red. He's already had a taste tonight and that microwaved glass only feeds the edges of his hunger, making the rest of it more intense.
No. No. Jonathan shakes his head.]
No. Thank you for asking. But... no.
[Jonathan lowers his head to nuzzle between her breasts, licking a cold stripe up to her throat in a mockery of the line that paints his own neck and chest. He drags his claws down her back more sharply, but is still careful not to dig deep enough to draw her blood. It's just at the edge of that, though.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-25 03:34 am (UTC)From:Oh--
[She likes tongues and mouths, what can she say? Her hand reaches back, yanking at the catch on her bra, shuddering as it springs free.]
Put your mouth on me. Please.
no subject
Date: 2019-01-26 05:55 pm (UTC)From:Like this?
[He brushes his beard over one of her breasts, barely touching his lips to it in small pecks. His eyes go up to her, and there's some playful mischief there. They've reached past the point of him being completely awkward, so he can relax into this a little more. He needs to take his trousers off soon, though. The fabric is chafing on his full cock, and it's almost a little painful with it trapped still.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-26 08:43 pm (UTC)From:And then she glances down, meeting his eyes, and realizes.
Oh. He's playing with her.
Oh, and while none of the tension eases out of her, some of the irritation has. Her frown melts into something closer to a scowl. Or, possibly, a pout, except she'd rather die than admit she ever makes an expression so stupid. Her legs spread wider, her hips rocking down pointedly, because if she's being teased she'll do it right back.]
If you want me to tell you what to do, Jonathan, you only have to say. But I thought you rather disliked my bossing you.
[She arches her back again, reaching around to wrap her fingers around the back of his neck, carding up through his hair, gripping it tightly.]
Or are you waiting for me to beg?
no subject
Date: 2019-01-27 05:56 pm (UTC)From:Let us settle on you making requests that I may grant as I please.
[Then she is neither bossing nor begging. It's semantics, but perhaps it would do well for both their egos. He does offer a little more to soothe over any sting of pain from his nails. Jonathan kisses her breasts more fully, open-mouthed with some pressure at the end to leave small marks on her skin.
He starts to lie back as he's working her, drawing her with him. He intends to roll them over in a moment, but he'll let her enjoy her position as they go down.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-27 10:19 pm (UTC)From:Her hips shift lower, and she ends up face to face with him, tipping her head to catch him in a kiss.]
Then may I request you come put your mouth to better use?
[She says it softly, speaking against his mouth, and nips at his bottom lip just once before she sits up. Her hands go to her skirt, unzipping it briskly, before reaching down. She won't be so cruel as to force him to stay in his trousers; within a moment she's opened them, tugging them down low on his hips.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-30 02:04 am (UTC)From:He lifts his hips for her to slide his trousers down, sliding his touch up her abdomen and to her breasts. Jonathan can see the tiny trails of blood his claws are leaving at first and tries not to focus on them. She might notice his attention dipping down, though, even as he alternates between massaging her and stroking down of her her nipples.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-30 04:43 am (UTC)From:Jonathan.
[She says it with just a hint of a tremor in her voice, because his fingers are teasingly delicate and she's sensitive, amped up by how slow they're going.]
Look at me. Tell me. Do you want me to bandage myself?
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