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scubatankfilledwithfarts 1. boots
"You know," he says, entire long body coiled in what he thinks is a suave leer, "the boys'll be out for half an hour. You could get in a lotta trouble in that amount of time. All alone. Maybe some terrorism. I think I'd better keep an eye on you."
He doesn't know that his sneer and magnetic personal charm have boiled down to the line of heat he radiates when he's merely beside her. All she has to do is press their hips together and he's got her hook, line, and sinker. And she does, feels his heat though he's not quite touching her yet, and, and, and- [She'll never give him the satisfaction of knowing, Kei's always been better at popping inflated egos anyway]
"Oh? All you need is about five minutes given your best record. I suppose we'll find something to do for the other twenty five," Kei replies, a smirk that's only half vicious and won't bite too hard curled at the corner of her mouth, but her fingers have already found purchase in his hair at the same time his have clasped her hips, swaying them in time.
Dark eyes darken even further as something hungry colors his expression. "Five? You bitch, I'll show you five and then some. Till you're begging me to keep going. I'm gonna rock your fucking world."
Kei muses she should be touched by the amount of care and thoroughness [like a goddamn caveman, grunting and all] with which Kaneda uses to frantically clear the workbench, sweeping the junk and the tools off in one fell swoop so he can press her against the surface, grinning down at her as bright as the sun.
And really, what can she do but smile back, roll her eyes playfully. [she is, however, satisfied with the little shiverroll his hips do when she drags her fingers along the sliver of flesh that bleeds out from the fabric of his jumper, across the quiver of his stomach at her touch] Kaneda's sigh against her neck sends goosebumps across her arms, he sucks marks into her skin with fervor. Wet and sloppy, he traces the edge of each blossoming bruise with his bottom lip, a tribute with that sometimes-skilled mouth.
Kei pays her own pay with sneaky fingers. The sweetest of noises from that big mouth, noises that promise fun and danger and always with each little grunt and wheeze. When terrain-jagged nails scrape white lines across his skin just slightly he groans, hisses between his teeth, eyes bright beneath midnight colored lashes. And when the sound he makes breaks off into a choked groan of her name--
It's dangerous, this sort of addiction, she thinks, so she's grateful for the distraction. When she hooks her leg around his hip so she can hook her fingers in the edges of her boots to pull them off, his hand stops her.
"Wait," his voice is so strained the deaf can hear it crack, pupils blown wide as he peers into her eyes. Her heart decidedly does nothing that resembles squeezing. "Keep the boots on."
Kei gazes at him for a long moment, so long that two perfect dots of red blossom on Kaneda's cheeks, his mouth opens to sputter some bullshit excuse no doubt but she beats him to it [obviously].
The heel of her other boot meets the dip of Kaneda's back, it's partner joins in a half a second. Her fingers find their way to his hair once more, carding through the short, coarse strands at the nape of his neck.
"Kinky. What a whole mysterious side to you."
Kaneda blinks, then lets that familiar smirk worm it's way across his mouth. "You know it. I'll show you a whole new world, babe. I think we've got a rope here somewhere. Maybe I'll put you over my knee after."
She's never been less surprised when his hand finds it's way beneath her shirt. Kei's also never been more grateful for the brand new heat ignited in the pit of her stomach.
"Shut the hell up or we'll find out whether or not you'll like licking these boots," she breathes against his mouth. He's not getting away with workmanship like that, oh no.
"You know," he says, entire long body coiled in what he thinks is a suave leer, "the boys'll be out for half an hour. You could get in a lotta trouble in that amount of time. All alone. Maybe some terrorism. I think I'd better keep an eye on you."
He doesn't know that his sneer and magnetic personal charm have boiled down to the line of heat he radiates when he's merely beside her. All she has to do is press their hips together and he's got her hook, line, and sinker. And she does, feels his heat though he's not quite touching her yet, and, and, and- [She'll never give him the satisfaction of knowing, Kei's always been better at popping inflated egos anyway]
"Oh? All you need is about five minutes given your best record. I suppose we'll find something to do for the other twenty five," Kei replies, a smirk that's only half vicious and won't bite too hard curled at the corner of her mouth, but her fingers have already found purchase in his hair at the same time his have clasped her hips, swaying them in time.
Dark eyes darken even further as something hungry colors his expression. "Five? You bitch, I'll show you five and then some. Till you're begging me to keep going. I'm gonna rock your fucking world."
Kei muses she should be touched by the amount of care and thoroughness [like a goddamn caveman, grunting and all] with which Kaneda uses to frantically clear the workbench, sweeping the junk and the tools off in one fell swoop so he can press her against the surface, grinning down at her as bright as the sun.
And really, what can she do but smile back, roll her eyes playfully. [she is, however, satisfied with the little shiverroll his hips do when she drags her fingers along the sliver of flesh that bleeds out from the fabric of his jumper, across the quiver of his stomach at her touch] Kaneda's sigh against her neck sends goosebumps across her arms, he sucks marks into her skin with fervor. Wet and sloppy, he traces the edge of each blossoming bruise with his bottom lip, a tribute with that sometimes-skilled mouth.
Kei pays her own pay with sneaky fingers. The sweetest of noises from that big mouth, noises that promise fun and danger and always with each little grunt and wheeze. When terrain-jagged nails scrape white lines across his skin just slightly he groans, hisses between his teeth, eyes bright beneath midnight colored lashes. And when the sound he makes breaks off into a choked groan of her name--
It's dangerous, this sort of addiction, she thinks, so she's grateful for the distraction. When she hooks her leg around his hip so she can hook her fingers in the edges of her boots to pull them off, his hand stops her.
"Wait," his voice is so strained the deaf can hear it crack, pupils blown wide as he peers into her eyes. Her heart decidedly does nothing that resembles squeezing. "Keep the boots on."
Kei gazes at him for a long moment, so long that two perfect dots of red blossom on Kaneda's cheeks, his mouth opens to sputter some bullshit excuse no doubt but she beats him to it [obviously].
The heel of her other boot meets the dip of Kaneda's back, it's partner joins in a half a second. Her fingers find their way to his hair once more, carding through the short, coarse strands at the nape of his neck.
"Kinky. What a whole mysterious side to you."
Kaneda blinks, then lets that familiar smirk worm it's way across his mouth. "You know it. I'll show you a whole new world, babe. I think we've got a rope here somewhere. Maybe I'll put you over my knee after."
She's never been less surprised when his hand finds it's way beneath her shirt. Kei's also never been more grateful for the brand new heat ignited in the pit of her stomach.
"Shut the hell up or we'll find out whether or not you'll like licking these boots," she breathes against his mouth. He's not getting away with workmanship like that, oh no.
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