ikissdhimbck | OOM: Room #100 -- For Tommy Gavin

"Just t'see me?"

Her eyes linger on his lips. She smiles softly, keeping her voice low and sweet.

"Not t'touch me?"

She shifts in his lap, drawing herself lower and closer until their mouths are only inches apart.

"Not t'kiss me?"

He inhales sharply when she shifts, and swallows hard when she brings her lips close to his.

In a breathy murmur he replies,

"I just figured that the touching and the kissing would follow the seeing. It's working out pretty good so far."

His eyes briefly flick up to hers, sharp and devilish, before he immediately closes the gap between their mouths.

She draws in a steadying breath, eyes slipping shut to savor the taste of him. Salty and sweet, wicked and divine.

Her hand curls in his hair, and after a few moments she slowly pulls back.

"Then I guess y'have your answer."

She wouldn't have agreed to seeing him if she didn't know what she was getting into.

She smirks against his mouth.

He tingles with the lingering warmth of her mouth as he licks away their mingled sweetness, the tip of his tongue brushing her lips in the process.

There's a few moments of indulging in the way her bare skin feels, her warm breath, her fingers in his hair.

Then, keeping that one hand pressed to her back, his other hand circles 'round to grab her ass, and holding tight, he stands, easily lifting her up as he counts on those thighs of hers to wrap around him.

A thrill races through her belly, eyes widening when his hand squeezes her bottom. Her long legs encircle him, helping keep her snug against him when her arms fumble around his neck. The bruises on the insides of her elbows are still tender, and she needed to adjust a bit to avoid hitting them.

A dozen cute quips pass through her mind; a smile flickers at the edge of her lips. But any taunt she might have uttered gets lost in his eyes, his warmth, and his strength. Her breathing quickens, and for this one moment she simply holds on tight.

Her legs tightening around his waist drives a breathy grunt through his teeth. It's all he can do to keep from pushing her up against the nearest wall.

But if the cats aren't awake yet, they are now, because Tommy's just laid Kate across the bed. He hovers over her for a moment, sipping kisses from her lips. One hand shoves the hem of her camisole up, his rough, heavy palm sliding over her belly and up her side, until his thumb grazes the soft curve of her breast.

The cats lift their heads and yawn, the only alarm in their eyes being the fear that somebody might try to dislodge them soon.

Naptime is sacred.

Kate gasps, purring against his lips while his fingertips roam. Her heart is beating so hard now that every touch is electric, making her skin jump under his palm. Her arms spill from his neck, palms sliding down his breast, down his stomach, finding the slack of his shirt so she can get at his skin. She tucks her thumbs under his waistband.

"Mmmph. I should ... put th'cats away."

The way her body reacts to his touch turns him on so much that his hips start to grind against hers.

"You really wanna stop to do that?" he pants breathlessly through a smirk as he continues to kiss her, and he pulls her hoodie down past her shoulders.

"Mmmno."

She whimpers into his mouth when his hips start moving, one of her legs curling around the back of his knee. She feels like a lightning rod in the middle of a thunderstorm, humming with sensations she hasn't felt in years. It's leaving her oversensitive and breathless.

She would be nervous as well, if it were anyone else. But he smirks and it makes her laugh — at least what passes for a laugh when their lips are hard-pressed to part.

"But if I don't ... y'run th'risk of'm runnin' laps over you in th'middle of th'night."

She lifts her shoulders off the mattress to help him work at her clothes, pulling at the hem of his shirt at the same time.

"M'guessin' y'don't want that."

He manages to get her hoodie down to her elbows when she makes her point. And he can't help but bow his head into the crook of her neck and shoulder to let out an exasperated growl, his breath hot on her skin.

"Rrrgh. Shit. Okay."

Picking his head up, he stares down into her eyes, panting through his teeth, the fringe of his hair brushing her brow.

"You have ten seconds to get those cats into the bathroom before I tear all your clothes off."

She sucks a breath in through her teeth.

"Ah, ow, careful — "

Moving gingerly, she wriggles her arms out of the jacket. Her gaze connects with his, wicked intent quickly shooing away any discomfort.

"Promise?"

She smirks, fingertips grazing his neck as she gives him one last kiss — and then shoves him onto his back. She bites her lip to rein in her smile, and swiftly scoots off the bed.

He eases his weight off of her, thinking that that's what's causing her to wince slightly. But once she's free of the hoodie, she recaptures his attention with her eyes, a wanton little word, and a kiss--

--and she shoves him again.

With a low, growling chuckle, he raises himself up onto his elbows to watch her, a leering grin on his lips.

"One... two... three..."

Oh, is he going to count? Well. She's just going to take her time, then.

"C'mon, boys. C'mon."

With the hoodie gone, there's little mystery to her silhouette anymore. She's small, but lithe and lean, soft and shapely.

The boys hop to the floor, completely fooled into thinking it's supper time, or dessert time, or maybe even second breakfast.

Edited 2012-08-15 07:30 (UTC)

"Four... five... six..."

At least the cats actually listen to her.

Even in the dim light, the thin fabric of her camisole doesn't leave much up to the imagination, but then again, Tommy doesn't like to work that hard.

She starts working at the knot she tied to the end of her braid, fingers less graceful than usual from the nerves and the cats weaving between her legs. She manages to corral them into the bathroom by pure bribery — catnip mice may have been involved.

She's not going to make it back before he reaches ten, but she does get the door closed and the knot undone. That still counts, right?

"Seven... eight... nine..."

Nope. She's not going to make it.

"Ten."

Just as she turns to close the door, she'll be surprised to find the pair of long arms that have wound themselves around her middle and the mouth that is ravenously kissing the back of her neck.

She gasps, wood creaking as her palms come flat against the door.

"Don't y'know you shouldn't sneak up behind an outlaw?"

She arches her back against him, forcing her shoulders to relax despite the little tendril of fear as he works over her neck.

"Except I guess I ain't the one with the gun this time."

He only grunts a hot chuckle against her skin.

The tenseness in her body, whether it's from being startled or just plain nerves, actually spurs him on. His lips skim her shoulder as the fingers of his other hand comb through her braid, loosening her hair until it falls freely.

He then pulls her away from the door, turning her around so that her back is against the wall -- he's not physically pinning her there, nor is he hemming her in -- he simply looms over her, his hips grazing hers, his hands peeling her camisole off her torso.

Edited 2012-08-15 08:31 (UTC)

He's strong, and quick, and if he weren't being careful it might be a little frightening.

Her eyes are wide open and riveted on him, chest heaving as he works the fabric from her body. There's a moment of hesitation where she keeps her arms against her sides. This is the moment that puts all of her coquettishness to the test.

This is really happening.

She slowly raises her arms over her head, helping him discard the camisole. In addition to the scar on her right bicep, there's another on her left hip. A long, jagged line that sits below her waist.

The warm light casts shadows between them, over her curves and the lean lines of his limbs.

He takes a moment, his lusty gaze lowered, before he dips his head to kiss her under her ear, a tender bite.

His hands travel up her bared body, caressing her with callouses.

She hums quietly, the delicate hairs on her arms going on end. Her fingers slip into his hair, stroking a few times before her nails rake down his nape. She presses her lips to his ear.

"Tommy? Can I ask y'somethin' without you — "

What's the expression?

" — losin' it?"

Her fingernails on his skin inevitably elicit a deep, rumbling purr from him, his face buried against her neck and in her hair.

"Mmmmh?"

She arches against his open palms.

"How many women have y'been with recently?"

He pauses.

He goes so still for a moment that he can feel his palms tingling with the heat of her skin.

"Um--"

Picking his head up, he frowns and gapes at her, bewildered.

"You couldn't ask me this before?"

His hands are staying where they are, thank you.

"I was preoccupied."

She breathes a dry laugh, searching out his eyes. Her fingers grow ever more tender; feathering his hair, drawing lines down the sides of his neck.

Remember the cheesecake, Tommy? And the strawberries? And the kissing?

"I'm not tryin' t'bait you. I don't expect it's a small number, an' that's all right. I don't mind if y'have multiple women, but this is only gonna work if I know. I need t'know that we're — all right."

She isn't sure she's getting her Significant Look across well enough, and she's already committed. She might as well be implicit.

Her voice drops.

"That you're healthy."

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