[ In honesty, she has to wonder how this managed to come about. Not in a bad way, not at all. But she'd been so relieved to have him alive again, had wished him over and she certainly wasn't about to send him all the way home after that. Was it right? Was it wrong? Gods if she knew. It felt right, just as it had with ... any version of him. Which was strange, for how different they all were. But the spark was there, the desperate need to be with him, in any shape or form, even if it was just standing next to him, pledging Forever on some alien planet.
And it really is hard to try and keep a train of thought when your shirt is getting tugged over your head, tossed to the ground and you're being manhandled onto your back. Perhaps focusing on that would be more beneficial to both parties.
Her breath is already beginning to gust in her lungs as he slips his tongue against her own (or maybe that was the other way around) and she can feel his fingers grasping for the edges of her pyjama shorts, sliding them down until she's left in nothing but her knickers. She feels on fire already, hands at the sides of his face, holding him against her briefly before dashing off, down his shoulders and arms once, slipping to his waist and in a deft sort of move, she's pulling him down between her legs, hips to hips- just for a moment. And if a wandering hand manages to sneak a few fingers just below his own waistband to scratch a little, well. She's got a feeling he won't mind too much. ]
action
And it really is hard to try and keep a train of thought when your shirt is getting tugged over your head, tossed to the ground and you're being manhandled onto your back. Perhaps focusing on that would be more beneficial to both parties.
Her breath is already beginning to gust in her lungs as he slips his tongue against her own (or maybe that was the other way around) and she can feel his fingers grasping for the edges of her pyjama shorts, sliding them down until she's left in nothing but her knickers. She feels on fire already, hands at the sides of his face, holding him against her briefly before dashing off, down his shoulders and arms once, slipping to his waist and in a deft sort of move, she's pulling him down between her legs, hips to hips- just for a moment. And if a wandering hand manages to sneak a few fingers just below his own waistband to scratch a little, well. She's got a feeling he won't mind too much. ]