[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?
[He jerks his gaze up to hers, feeling a bit like a student who's been caught with his attention wandering away from lessons. There's a wash of guilt and disgust at his own lack of self-control. He's performed surgeries while like this. Surely he can manage an intimate liaison.
But perhaps that's it. Jonathan has always been the one in control, fully 'on top' of the situation in a surgery.]
No.
[He grasps her shoulders and pulls her down forcefully so that he can roll them, putting himself atop her on the bed.]
I think this may work better.
[It's going to stain her sheets, but at least it puts her injuries out of reach. He pushes up and rolls his clothed cock against her undergarments. They're down to the barest essentials now, and he can see some dampness, smell her arousal.]
You're so very eager, Rosalind. I can all but taste it on you.
[Maybe he shouldn't speak of tasting her... But he is aware enough to know she seems to enjoy some pointed words.]
[He's right there: Rosalind flushes pleasantly, her eyes going a little wider as he murmurs that. She does so adore filthy talk, and it's an extra thrill with him, as composed and proper as he normally is. Her eyes slide down his frame, dragging over the pale skin and the lean frame, the way he's built so sturdily, before returning up to his face.]
Are you going to do something about it?
[Her hand lowers, slipping beneath her panties. Two fingers slide over her clit, and she shifts, spreading one leg.]
[He's not nearly as good at this as his doppelganger, nor that... other part of him. The darkness pulled full to the surface. But Jonathan is game to try, at least, since he does know she likes it.]
Is that what you'd like to do? Pleasure yourself for me? Have me watch you touch yourself?
[Jonathan shifts his weight and grabs for her wandering hand. He lifts it to his lips and licks the inside of her wrist before pressing a kiss to it. It's the work of the moment to pin her hand. It's a bit of a dare for her to try that again with her other hand.]
[He'd certainly enjoyed watching last time, hadn't he? She still thinks of that video sometimes, the way he'd fucked her with those shadows, the way he'd stripped her and spread her legs forcibly-- oh, yes, she still thinks about it.
Her head tips, and she flexes her fingers, her arm tensing as she pulls at his grip. Her fingers are wet, slick with her own arousal, and she lets out a soft noise of frustration as he acts so sweetly, refusing to lick it away.
Of course her other hand drops. She's clumsier with her left hand, but that doesn't stop her from spreading herself open, the tips of her fingers massaging against her clit.]
I'd like it better if you'd come and finger me, actually. But if all you want to do is watch . . . by all means.
[If he'll tease, she'll tease him back. Her fingers slip down, and she whines softly as she slips two fingers into herself.]
[He's drawn to where the heat is pooling within her. But instead of indulging just yet, Jonathan tuts and grabs her other hand. He adjusts his grip so that he can pin both of her wrists with just one hand, using that to hold himself up.]
You're a brave woman, Rosalind. Most might fear my claws in so delicate a place. Or perhaps you've forgot.
[His hand slides slowly down her belly, claws dragging purposely, leaving delicate pink scratches. He dips his hand into her panties and picks up where she left off. The placement of his fingers isn't perfectly right, though, and there's just a little bit of fumbling as he tries to circle her clit with the pad of his thumb and misses on the first pass.]
[She hasn't forgotten. She knows exactly how dangerous this is, but on the other hand, there's a thrill to feeling that sharpness as well. She can feel the edge of his claw pressing lightly against her, and she forces herself not to squirm, well aware of just how dangerous that might be.]
Up--
[It's a quiet instruction. She'd guide his hand if she had any free, but as she quite likes the way he's so effortlessly pinning her down, she won't struggle. Instead: she waits patiently, shifting her hips this way and that, murmuring little corrections-- and it seems a bit touch and go, but then--]
Oh.
[A breathed out noise of satisfaction, and she tips her head back, her eyes closing as her flush creeps down. Eagerly she tightens around him, and god, but it's hard not to rock her hips up, to try and fuck herself on his fingers at her own pace.]
Why on earth would I be afraid of you?
[She means for it to come out as a taunt, but it comes out more genuinely. Why would she be afraid of him? Of all the people in this city, god knows he isn't someone she fears. Again she tightens around him, arching her back a little, staring up at him in lust and affection.
It's not that she's suddenly in love with him. They'll still fight after this, god knows. But she does like him, when all's said and done, and she rather likes the way he's proposed to do this. It feels familiar. A little taste of home.]
[He does follow her directions without complaint, at least. In this, he's willing to bend to someone with far more experience to make it more enjoyable for the both of them. Her last question, though, has him pausing for just a moment. It's the tone of it as much as her words.
Jonathan knows it's mostly in his own mind for those he calls friends and colleagues that he considers himself a monster to be feared. Most of the time he hears these sorts of things, it's to reassure him. But it's typically more direct, a statement that people do not fear him--foolish though that might be. Having it posed as a question like that, like it's something she's barely even considered, even when she's seen the worst of that doppelganger and with the mistletoe.
His expression softens, and Jonathan leans down to kiss her, long and slow. His hand resumes its attention, but as soon as he finishes his embrace, he's pulling back and grabbing her panties to take them down to her knees. Jonathan licks his lips.]
[She tips her head, opening her mouth a little to it just to make it deeper. It's a slow kiss, and for once in her life she doesn't try and speed it up. Just savors it for what it is, intimate and hungry and sweet.
Squirming so she can kick her panties off properly, Rosalind settles back.]
I should think you could answer that question yourself, Jonathan.
[She likes it when he calls her by her first name. And maybe there's a little bit of fantasy in all this, maybe he's looking at her and thinking of Elisabeth, maybe she's listening to his accent curl around her name and thinking of Robert-- but that doesn't mean it isn't intimate all on its own.]
Fuck me. Please.
[It's wry, not the pleading he might hope to someday hear, but she does mean it.]
[There is, indeed, another woman with fiery hair and a powerful presence than flits at the edges of Jonathan's thoughts. But Elisabeth... No. Thinking of her now would only bring this to a premature and unsatisfactory end.
Jonathan lets her go and leans back so that he sit a little more easily and wrangle her undergarments off followed by his own. When they're both done, he lifts one of her legs and places it onto his shoulder, followed by the other. There's a press of his lips to each once they've settled, and he knows this may be infuriatingly slow for her, but he can't help but enjoy dragging it out, listening to the hitch of her breath.
It's the work of the moment to guide himself to her entrance, though. He pushes inside and works his way deeper in small thrusts as he might do for one of his toys, timing it to her breaths.
His eyes are on hers the whole time, gauging for any signs of distress beyond some sexual frustration.]
How long do you imagine I might draw you out? How many times might you last? [His voice is low, playful once more.] My condition has cursed me with a stamina few men can claim.
[She's absolutely certain that's true-- just as she's equally certain he could leave her whining and whimpering before the end, overstimulated and out of her mind with heated pleasure. But far be it for her to ever back down from a challenge, even a playful one. Rosalind tips her head back. Her eyes are hazy with arousal, her cunt slick and tight around him (and oh, god, but he'd felt so good pushing into her, just a touch shy of too much, his cock heavy and hard and perfect)-- but she isn't so addled she can't play with him.]
You've answered your own question.
[She reaches for him, her hips rocking up pointedly as she pulls him down for a kiss. He feels so good in her, thick enough to leave her aching, throbbing around him even as she grows used to the delicious feeling of being filled. One leg lifts, hooking around his hip, as she squirms just a little impatiently.]
Perhaps you'll make me finish more than once. But if you're asking when I'll beg you to stop . . . [She nips sharply at his bottom lip, a swift action, there and done.] I'll last longer than you, Jonathan. I can promise you that.
[The nip draws a sharp gasp, and Jonathan grips her hips. He pulls out and thrusts deep, setting up a rhythm of long, slow thrusts that the doctor knows he can sustain for a time. He's intrigued by her offer, but one matter to address first.]
Be careful how hard you bite. A few drops of my blood are enough to turn you, and I've no interest in progeny to mind here.
[It's a bit harsher than the earlier playfulness. This, particularly, he means.]
But what is this, mm... prize you have in mind? If I'm to strive for something, I should like to know it's well worth the effort.
[Is that why he won't turn her? It seems the least reason, but fascinating that that's the reason he picks. She makes a note of it and stores that away for later, for the moment taking heed of the warning at face value. No, she won't be turned (or at least: not while she's getting fucked).
His rhythm is enough to occupy her mind, god knows, and with a deep sense of satisfaction she lets herself focus on nothing but the present. Each thrust is all the harder for how slow he is about it, and Rosalind hoists her legs up higher, rocking her hips up against him just to feel him inch in all the deeper. She's flushed, arousal making her eyes hazy and her body tremble, but she isn't lost just yet.]
T-then pick something you want.
[Her fingers curl, nails digging into her palm as she fights not to moan just yet. It's a generous offer, made with the secure knowledge he'll change it in an instant if it's something she finds disagreeable.
Besides: there's something thrilling about not always having control.]
I want-- ah-- I want you to obey. Just for one night.
[Because she thinks it would be rather fun to see how worked up he might get if he was denied his finish a few times over.]
[It's one among several reasons, but one of the ones that comes most immediately to mind. He'd rather not discuss murdering his sister multiple times over. That really tends to have a detrimental effect on his mood.
The pads of his thumbs rub against her skin as Jonathan considers this wager. He's confident he can hold out longer than her and get her to the point of exhausted begging. But does he want to risk it?]
One night. [He agrees. And one night only. Jonathan doesn't imagine she'll ask him to do anything completely outrageous. But knowing her... what would tantalize her into losing for the sake of it? His lips curl into a wicked smile as an idea starts to form in his mind, something that will appeal to her proclivities and his preference for using toys, in general.]
If I win, we shall take a walk around one of the gardens in the Up. And while we are strolling, you will wear, hidden, whatever I would like you to wear. How might you handle some toy buzzing away inside of you while we walk, Rosalind? Would you make it two blocks without begging me to be kinder?
[He knows her far too well by now, she realizes. Far, far too well, because that most certainly does appeal to her, hideously so, so much so that Rosalind has to stifle a moan just at the thought. She throbs around him, her cunt tightening eagerly as a flush comes to her cheeks-- and he'd been right, there is a sudden desire to lose. It has to fight against her naturally competitive nature-- but oh, wouldn't it be something? He has such a streak of sadism hidden beneath that gentlemanly veneer he wears, and she's never more attracted to him than when she sees hints of it.
She takes in a shaky breath, buying herself an extra moment; only once she feels she can respond without making a fool of herself does she jerk her head in a nod.]
Have I ever once begged you for anything?
[She's only used a vibrator once, but does that matter? Anyway, this is all if she loses (but she does so want to lose, damn him, she sort of hates him for being so clever). Her mouth curls, and she surges up, meeting him in another hungry kiss. Against his mouth, then:]
Do your worst, Jonathan Reid, both then and now. I'm hardly the mewling little girls you're used to at home.
[The throb and pulse of her body is intense and for a moment, his vision tinges to red. There is blood racing through her veins, filling her up. That extra moment for her is one for him, as well, as he struggles to control his own urges. His thrusts intensify as he tries to focus his energy on that feeling of her engulfing him. He doesn't need to taste her. He's human and he doesn't need to taste her.
But it's so hard when she attacks his lips. She speaks of things she doesn't know, and it's a struggle to pull back instead of dropping his head to her neck. One of his hands moves to that beautiful neck, and Jonathan covers it, squeezing lightly. It's as much to titillate her as it is to block himself from indulging.]
And what girls do you imagine I had... at home, Rosalind? I would not, mm... keep the company of such women. No longer than might be necessary for decorum. [The sound of flesh slapping against flesh grows louder.] They do not interest me. You do.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.]
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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.]
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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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Date: 2019-01-31 04:26 pm (UTC)From:But perhaps that's it. Jonathan has always been the one in control, fully 'on top' of the situation in a surgery.]
No.
[He grasps her shoulders and pulls her down forcefully so that he can roll them, putting himself atop her on the bed.]
I think this may work better.
[It's going to stain her sheets, but at least it puts her injuries out of reach. He pushes up and rolls his clothed cock against her undergarments. They're down to the barest essentials now, and he can see some dampness, smell her arousal.]
You're so very eager, Rosalind. I can all but taste it on you.
[Maybe he shouldn't speak of tasting her... But he is aware enough to know she seems to enjoy some pointed words.]
no subject
Date: 2019-01-31 07:33 pm (UTC)From:Are you going to do something about it?
[Her hand lowers, slipping beneath her panties. Two fingers slide over her clit, and she shifts, spreading one leg.]
Or will I have to take care of myself?
no subject
Date: 2019-02-02 02:42 am (UTC)From:Is that what you'd like to do? Pleasure yourself for me? Have me watch you touch yourself?
[Jonathan shifts his weight and grabs for her wandering hand. He lifts it to his lips and licks the inside of her wrist before pressing a kiss to it. It's the work of the moment to pin her hand. It's a bit of a dare for her to try that again with her other hand.]
no subject
Date: 2019-02-03 05:24 am (UTC)From:Her head tips, and she flexes her fingers, her arm tensing as she pulls at his grip. Her fingers are wet, slick with her own arousal, and she lets out a soft noise of frustration as he acts so sweetly, refusing to lick it away.
Of course her other hand drops. She's clumsier with her left hand, but that doesn't stop her from spreading herself open, the tips of her fingers massaging against her clit.]
I'd like it better if you'd come and finger me, actually. But if all you want to do is watch . . . by all means.
[If he'll tease, she'll tease him back. Her fingers slip down, and she whines softly as she slips two fingers into herself.]
no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 05:20 am (UTC)From:You're a brave woman, Rosalind. Most might fear my claws in so delicate a place. Or perhaps you've forgot.
[His hand slides slowly down her belly, claws dragging purposely, leaving delicate pink scratches. He dips his hand into her panties and picks up where she left off. The placement of his fingers isn't perfectly right, though, and there's just a little bit of fumbling as he tries to circle her clit with the pad of his thumb and misses on the first pass.]
no subject
Date: 2019-02-05 05:40 am (UTC)From:Up--
[It's a quiet instruction. She'd guide his hand if she had any free, but as she quite likes the way he's so effortlessly pinning her down, she won't struggle. Instead: she waits patiently, shifting her hips this way and that, murmuring little corrections-- and it seems a bit touch and go, but then--]
Oh.
[A breathed out noise of satisfaction, and she tips her head back, her eyes closing as her flush creeps down. Eagerly she tightens around him, and god, but it's hard not to rock her hips up, to try and fuck herself on his fingers at her own pace.]
Why on earth would I be afraid of you?
[She means for it to come out as a taunt, but it comes out more genuinely. Why would she be afraid of him? Of all the people in this city, god knows he isn't someone she fears. Again she tightens around him, arching her back a little, staring up at him in lust and affection.
It's not that she's suddenly in love with him. They'll still fight after this, god knows. But she does like him, when all's said and done, and she rather likes the way he's proposed to do this. It feels familiar. A little taste of home.]
no subject
Date: 2019-02-07 05:59 am (UTC)From:Jonathan knows it's mostly in his own mind for those he calls friends and colleagues that he considers himself a monster to be feared. Most of the time he hears these sorts of things, it's to reassure him. But it's typically more direct, a statement that people do not fear him--foolish though that might be. Having it posed as a question like that, like it's something she's barely even considered, even when she's seen the worst of that doppelganger and with the mistletoe.
His expression softens, and Jonathan leans down to kiss her, long and slow. His hand resumes its attention, but as soon as he finishes his embrace, he's pulling back and grabbing her panties to take them down to her knees. Jonathan licks his lips.]
Are you ready for me, Rosalind?
no subject
Date: 2019-02-07 06:09 am (UTC)From:Squirming so she can kick her panties off properly, Rosalind settles back.]
I should think you could answer that question yourself, Jonathan.
[She likes it when he calls her by her first name. And maybe there's a little bit of fantasy in all this, maybe he's looking at her and thinking of Elisabeth, maybe she's listening to his accent curl around her name and thinking of Robert-- but that doesn't mean it isn't intimate all on its own.]
Fuck me. Please.
[It's wry, not the pleading he might hope to someday hear, but she does mean it.]
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Date: 2019-02-09 05:38 pm (UTC)From:Jonathan lets her go and leans back so that he sit a little more easily and wrangle her undergarments off followed by his own. When they're both done, he lifts one of her legs and places it onto his shoulder, followed by the other. There's a press of his lips to each once they've settled, and he knows this may be infuriatingly slow for her, but he can't help but enjoy dragging it out, listening to the hitch of her breath.
It's the work of the moment to guide himself to her entrance, though. He pushes inside and works his way deeper in small thrusts as he might do for one of his toys, timing it to her breaths.
His eyes are on hers the whole time, gauging for any signs of distress beyond some sexual frustration.]
How long do you imagine I might draw you out? How many times might you last? [His voice is low, playful once more.] My condition has cursed me with a stamina few men can claim.
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Date: 2019-02-09 10:01 pm (UTC)From:You've answered your own question.
[She reaches for him, her hips rocking up pointedly as she pulls him down for a kiss. He feels so good in her, thick enough to leave her aching, throbbing around him even as she grows used to the delicious feeling of being filled. One leg lifts, hooking around his hip, as she squirms just a little impatiently.]
Perhaps you'll make me finish more than once. But if you're asking when I'll beg you to stop . . . [She nips sharply at his bottom lip, a swift action, there and done.] I'll last longer than you, Jonathan. I can promise you that.
[a beat, and then:]
And if I can't? I'll even give you a prize.
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Date: 2019-02-10 10:05 pm (UTC)From:Be careful how hard you bite. A few drops of my blood are enough to turn you, and I've no interest in progeny to mind here.
[It's a bit harsher than the earlier playfulness. This, particularly, he means.]
But what is this, mm... prize you have in mind? If I'm to strive for something, I should like to know it's well worth the effort.
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Date: 2019-02-10 10:16 pm (UTC)From:His rhythm is enough to occupy her mind, god knows, and with a deep sense of satisfaction she lets herself focus on nothing but the present. Each thrust is all the harder for how slow he is about it, and Rosalind hoists her legs up higher, rocking her hips up against him just to feel him inch in all the deeper. She's flushed, arousal making her eyes hazy and her body tremble, but she isn't lost just yet.]
T-then pick something you want.
[Her fingers curl, nails digging into her palm as she fights not to moan just yet. It's a generous offer, made with the secure knowledge he'll change it in an instant if it's something she finds disagreeable.
Besides: there's something thrilling about not always having control.]
I want-- ah-- I want you to obey. Just for one night.
[Because she thinks it would be rather fun to see how worked up he might get if he was denied his finish a few times over.]
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Date: 2019-02-13 03:07 am (UTC)From:The pads of his thumbs rub against her skin as Jonathan considers this wager. He's confident he can hold out longer than her and get her to the point of exhausted begging. But does he want to risk it?]
One night. [He agrees. And one night only. Jonathan doesn't imagine she'll ask him to do anything completely outrageous. But knowing her... what would tantalize her into losing for the sake of it? His lips curl into a wicked smile as an idea starts to form in his mind, something that will appeal to her proclivities and his preference for using toys, in general.]
If I win, we shall take a walk around one of the gardens in the Up. And while we are strolling, you will wear, hidden, whatever I would like you to wear. How might you handle some toy buzzing away inside of you while we walk, Rosalind? Would you make it two blocks without begging me to be kinder?
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Date: 2019-02-13 03:23 am (UTC)From:She takes in a shaky breath, buying herself an extra moment; only once she feels she can respond without making a fool of herself does she jerk her head in a nod.]
Have I ever once begged you for anything?
[She's only used a vibrator once, but does that matter? Anyway, this is all if she loses (but she does so want to lose, damn him, she sort of hates him for being so clever). Her mouth curls, and she surges up, meeting him in another hungry kiss. Against his mouth, then:]
Do your worst, Jonathan Reid, both then and now. I'm hardly the mewling little girls you're used to at home.
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Date: 2019-02-15 04:24 am (UTC)From:But it's so hard when she attacks his lips. She speaks of things she doesn't know, and it's a struggle to pull back instead of dropping his head to her neck. One of his hands moves to that beautiful neck, and Jonathan covers it, squeezing lightly. It's as much to titillate her as it is to block himself from indulging.]
And what girls do you imagine I had... at home, Rosalind? I would not, mm... keep the company of such women. No longer than might be necessary for decorum. [The sound of flesh slapping against flesh grows louder.] They do not interest me. You do.
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