crossmyheartandhope | Overflow post

[That answering whine is very good indeed, and does his best to encourage another, and another after that]

[He can't use his fingers right now - not with these nails - but he does have a lot of feathers, and the thought strikes him, suddenly, that maybe those can be put to better use. He folds the talons in against his palm, so that they can't do any damage - drifts his hand down, between her legs, to rub the back of it up against her, a thousand tiny points of softness, while his mouth stays busy]

[She makes a short little "oh" of surprise, as that option had not occurred to her, either. It soon closes to a throaty groan as her hips begin to shudder again, helplessly grinding into the wet heat of his mouth and the silky-smooth firmness of his hand--into his warmth and his breath and his desire-- With a helpless cry of his name, she's tugged over the edge again, clutching tight at his back for dear life]

[He makes a small sound against her, encouraging - continues to work her through it, soft and coaxing]

[The other hand drifts upward, just as gentle, to stroke against her thigh]

[She shivers hard, still twitching against him]

Nn...C-Cross...

[When the twitching has mostly settled, he eases back, careful - presses a kiss to her thigh, and then another, no more than a soft brush of his lips]

Edited 2020-11-01 06:15 (UTC)

[She is slow to uncurl from around him, still shuddering with aftershocks with each kiss. But eventually enough tension leaches from her body that she can finally come down, breaths heavy and voiced. Limbs too leaden to tug him up to her, she does the next best thing and sinks down into his lap to meld against his chest. What else is being a ghost for if not phasing through objects for good causes?]

[The hidden perks of being a ghost]

[He shivers as she settles against him - gets his arms up around her, to draw her close]

...you okay?

[Makes a low shuddery sound, nosing into his neck and light brushing over where his pulse point would be]

[He shivers again, harder, as she nuzzles his neck - can't quite help but shift, against the weight of her in his lap]

[One of his hands comes up, careful, to stroke through the fine hairs at the base of her neck]

[She shifts to fit better against him as well, tired but not apparently not that tired, doing a slightly less sloppy kisses down his neck]

[His breath catches a little, at the feel of those kisses; he tips his head a little, to one side to allow her better access]

[She continues, soft and breathy, a cold line of kisses down to his collarbone, increasingly longer nips and kisses as she goes]

[He makes a soft sound - shifts against her, eyes fluttering closed]

[The hand at the nape of her neck begins to wander downward, exploring]

[She shivers as well, her shirt long gone itchy against her skin. Her mouth continues, however, suckling chilly little marks over the soft skin of his neck and back up to behind his ear. Her touch begins to travel as well, cold spots trailing from the crown of his head down his back to the tips of his wings, obviously present but light as air]

[His hands drift down, and down, over her back - find the hem of her shirt and then drift upward again, running along bare skin, some odd mix of two-soft feathers (slightly damp on one side now) and too-sharp talons, though he is being very careful with the claws[

[He groans, softly, at the feel of her mouth, and at the motion of her hands, soft and chill and teasing]

[She does not seem to care if he's being careful or not, goosebumps prickling at the feel of talon and feather alike. Her breath goes heavy against his skin, though the ghostly touch doesn't slow.

It doesn't speed up, either, deliberately tracing over the delicate bones of each wing, gently sweeping down each feather in sequence until meeting at the middle of his back, at the bases of his wings.]

[The cooldown is long since past, and with her position, it's easy to feel the effect she's having on him - the proof of his interest obvious through his pants, but also the way he presses into the contact, arches and shivers, when her fingers continue that slow exploration]

[The hands under her shirt are restless, now, roaming like they're trying to take everything in all at once]

[Rucked up past shirt and undershirt there's nothing underneath, just a few light scars over the expanse of cool skin. She presses into the touch, humming into the contact as she sucks a little more firmly at his neck.

She continues over his back as well, cold pressing gentle lines down his back and to the base of his tail even as there's a soft pressure at the base of each wing, pressing into the firm muscle there. But she's soft and yielding against him, hitching in closer despite herself]

[He makes a soft sound, unable to quite bite it down - shifts, and shifts again, unconsciously trying to press into the soft touch of her hands, the not-quite enough pressure of her settled there in his lap]

[His hands keep moving, as though unable to stop - the motion ceaseless, almost greedy, trying to take in everything there is to feel at once]

[Kisses back up to his mouth this time, humming into the warmth of his lips and the taste of her on them. Even as the light, chill pressure ruffles the feathers up his legs, her hands trail down to his rear and sink in, urging him up into her more squarely]

[This time, the sound that leaves him is closer to a whimper. The restless shifting of his hips, those tiny circles, gives way to something more urgent as he presses up harder in response to her coaxing]

[The kiss is eager, almost needy; he licks into her mouth like he needs it to breathe, nipping at her lower lip with his teeth]

[The press of him against her--the heat of his tongue and the tug of his lips, and she whines herself as she rises to meet his enthusiasm--hitching into the shift of his hips and suckling at his tongue. The cold spots continue to run down his calves and up his thighs, then back up his back and wings again. Her hands stay where they are, keeping him fitted tight against her]

[This time, the sound that leaves him is a full-on moan, long and low and wavering. He shudders against her - presses up into her, hips working feverishly for more friction]

[Under her shirt, his hands continue their journey, taking in chill lines of smooth skin and the small ridges of scars, one of them drifting around to the front, mindful of the claws, to trace the shape of her through the bra]

[A definite whimper at the pinpoint trace of his talon around her breast--at the hot, insistent weight of him against her--at the vibration of his chest as he groans--and she flushes bright with arousal. It's hard to think about anything other than getting more of all of those things, and her fingers run restlessly up and over the gentle curve where his tailfeathers meet his spine.

Ghostly touch skims over the rest of him too, cool and indeterminate--the nape of his neck, the tips of his ears, the pinions of his wings and the soft, pale skin beneath.]

[He out and out whines, at her fingers tracing the place where the tailfeathers meet the spine - has to break the kiss just to manage a few desperate, gasping breaths]

[The motion of his hips is more erratic now, all ceaseless motion as he tries to get closer, as he presses for more. The hand on the breast slips down the cup of the bra, careful; there's the soft brush of feathers over the nipple, and the soft prick of talons, very light, further from the center]

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