(no subject)

[captainryan]

((From here))

Richard carefully clambers back inside, ducking low to avoid hitting either his or his prize's head. Then he eagerly glides down the hallway towards room 417. His scent is practically humming with pleasure at his catch and the hand holding her pinches her thigh.

"Nearly there," he rumbles, already digging in his pocket for the keys.

Comments

[hell_in_highheels]

She grins against his cheek, a low whine in her throat. Effortless, she feels him move and matches the rhythm of his body. She kisses his lips, nibbles along his jaw, breathes him in, and loses herself in the moment.

Her hands smooth down his back to his hips, over his ass, pulling him in, feeling his muscles working as he moves. So deep, so hard, so good.

Slow and decadent, they spiral higher as his movements grow more insistent. She presses her head back into the pillow, lips parted, no longer even trying to be quiet. He feels amazing and she lets him know it.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Stop, you'll make him blush.

He quivers with restraint even as he allows them to go faster. He's aware of everything, it seems, her hands on his ass, her hair brushing against his forearms, the warm feeling of her around him moving in perfect time. He gasps, wanting this to last all night.

It feels so good.

[hell_in_highheels]

All night sounds perfect.

She opens her eyes at the sound of his gasp, wanting to watch him, lips ruddy and bruised from her kisses, his jaw set. She can only catch glimpses of his eyes, hooded and dark. She leans up just enough to press her mouth to his brow, capturing a bead of sweat before it drips in his eyes. The move presses her against his own broad chest, and she falls back slowly, reluctantly..

Her grip tightens, every part of her drawing him in, giving him something to strive against. This is a good pace, not too fast, just quick enough to keep them ascending. The second time is always deeper, always higher, a little elusive, but he always hunts her down.

She's panting against his throat and each shallow breath comes with a soft, ragged cry in time with his movements. From a great distance, she can feel something bright unfolding inside her.

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

River, he moans, finding her scent and knowing what it means, how close they are and how much further they still have to go.

He loves this part of his day, this hunt, this game they play, the sounds she makes, the way she feels, the places she takes him.

River.

[hell_in_highheels]

The sound of his voice sets her alight. "Richard." She breathes his name against his jaw, losing herself in his scent, the heat of his skin, the motion of his body against hers. A long, slow, intense ascension, and she loves every moment, every breath. My love.

She closes her eyes again, focusing on his pulse and on the building pressure. Her breath hitches as he finds the perfect tempo, the perfect angle. Her spine arches and her nails dig into the flesh of his shoulder as her hips shudder beneath him.

There's the trembling beginnings of a howl in the back of his fox's throat.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Mine. It's distractedly said, his attention more on her than speaking. He kisses her, stealing her howl before she can make it, then bites her throat to help her make another.

He can't hold her for long, though. He's got a howl of his own building up in his throat.

[hell_in_highheels]

The feel of his mouth against her own, the sweetness of his kiss, distracts her, breaks her concentration, leaves her vulnerable to his bite.

Sweet mother of all that's holy, he knows her. He knows her secrets, knows her heart, knows how to pierce her through and through. White hot electricity arcs down her spine, knitting the feel of his sharp teeth in her flesh to the hard pulse between her thighs.

She gasps, sucking air as the pleasure twists through her, uncontrolled and uncontrollable. The wild howl in her throat is the sound of pure ecstasy.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

His own howl is near simultaneous, head arched back to let it free.

He relaxes then, settling down until he's pressed along her side but still holding himself up enough that she can breathe without too much difficulty. He's tired, yes, but satisfied and not nearly spent.

[hell_in_highheels]

She's breathing hard, smiling against his cheek, laughing quietly as she strokes her hands over his head, petting him. A delicious shiver runs through her body as the spike of pleasure fades. She inhales his scent, draws him deep, savouring just being able to hold him close.

Love you.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

He nibbles on her a bit, licking at the shiver over her skin.

Love you. He rumbles with pleasure, slipping out of her so he can rest at her side, one hand drawing lazy circles on her back.

[hell_in_highheels]

She rolls with him, purring, nuzzling under his chin, unwilling to part from him for even a moment. Her mouth finds the side of his jaw, trailing open mouthed kisses along the side of his neck down to his collar bone, nibbling ever so gently.

She nestles close along his side, her legs tangling with his. The palms of her hands skim over the fine sheen of sweat on his torso.

I like this game. You make such a nice captive, she teases.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Captive? Who caught who, here? He counters by poking her once in her side, smug grin across his face.

He's utterly relaxed here.

[hell_in_highheels]

She giggles, batting his hand away. Clearly I captured you. Lured you back to my lair and had my way with you, she continues, all evidence to the contrary.

Her grip on him tightens momentarily. And don't think you're getting away either. I caught you fair and square.

[captainryan.livejournal.com]

Actually, I think I've developed a rather horrid case of Stockholm Syndrome.

He pulls her a little closer to demonstrate. Not going anywhere.

[hell_in_highheels]

To this day, those three words still strike deep. The first time he said them, she could believe it was only for the night. And that was more than she'd dared hope for, even then. Every moment since then had been a gift.

Now? She knows they mean so much more.

Good. Her eyes close and she buries her face in his shoulder, breathing his breath, bathed in his scent. She holds him tight, happy beyond the simple telling of it.