Re: In Person: Sharon C/Steve R - tub things
[Her subtle insistence, punctuated by the cant of hips, was ignored. He nodded thoughtfully at what she said, as if he was really thinking hard about it, relenting when she took his hand.
Every artist knew, when inspiration struck, you ran with it.
She placed his hand where she wanted it and he obliged. He touched her, finger circling over that sensitive spot, as he felt her against him, that urge of her hips enough to break the too-light graze of teeth and lips along the line of her throat and shoulder. He dug in, a sink of the hard edge of his teeth, not a bite, but a scrape, immediately replaced by lips. His other hand took her breast in its palm.
His body enveloped hers, and the burning oil of lust began to pool low in his belly. Young and eager, peak human physique, he was hard against her fast.
Steve was never rough. He wasn't achingly sweet either, but he didn't tear or bruise or push. It was a mutual meet, the immutable attraction of two people. He wanted to kiss her, so he stretched his hand up from the cup of her breast to press fingers to her jaw, turning her head toward him with the suggestion of touch. Just before he put his mouth on hers, he spoke in a roughshod whisper, a moment private and—as of yet—unshared.] You really did look good. Do look good.