Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ikissdhimbck) wrote2013-07-28 12:40 am
ikissdhimbck) wrote2013-07-28 12:40 am
Entry tags:
OOM: Room #100 -- for Tommy Gavin
[Following this:]
The sun's just setting when Kate heads in from the stables. Lately, she's been staying out after dark, but tonight she needs to clean up before Tommy stops by.
Her room is untidy, a 'tee-vee' and 'dee-vee-dee player' on a rolling cart stationed in front of her bureau. There's a small stack of films lying nearby. The table in the corner is covered with dirtied glasses and half-empty — or completely empty — liquor bottles, used tissues, and cupcake wrappers.
She unlocks the door and steps in, greeted by the expectant mewling of her cats. Taking off her gun belt, she leaves it on the chest by the foot of her bed, and heads into the washroom. She feeds the boys, and takes a quick bath.
By the time Tommy stops by, the bed will be made and the trash collected, the glasses stacked to be washed later and the bottles pushed aside. A few tissues escape her notice under the T.V. cart, but at least she feels mostly presentable.
The sun's just setting when Kate heads in from the stables. Lately, she's been staying out after dark, but tonight she needs to clean up before Tommy stops by.
Her room is untidy, a 'tee-vee' and 'dee-vee-dee player' on a rolling cart stationed in front of her bureau. There's a small stack of films lying nearby. The table in the corner is covered with dirtied glasses and half-empty — or completely empty — liquor bottles, used tissues, and cupcake wrappers.
She unlocks the door and steps in, greeted by the expectant mewling of her cats. Taking off her gun belt, she leaves it on the chest by the foot of her bed, and heads into the washroom. She feeds the boys, and takes a quick bath.
By the time Tommy stops by, the bed will be made and the trash collected, the glasses stacked to be washed later and the bottles pushed aside. A few tissues escape her notice under the T.V. cart, but at least she feels mostly presentable.
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Holding her hand in his lap, he thinks for a second or two before he answers her question.
"I-- was gonna ask you first."
He's learning?
"Can I?"
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"Of course, if y'want to. I wasn't sure y'would."
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"I always want to."
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"If I recall, the last time y'was up here y'said y'wanted t'do things that had nothin' t'do with sex."
And he hasn't been back since then.
She closes her eyes, wrapping her hands around his arms to make their embrace all the more snug.
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That doesn't sound like him, but he supposes he could've said it. Besides, he can't remember everything that's ever come out of his mouth. He counts on the women in his life to do that for him.
Nevertheless, he leans into the embrace, her head tucked under his chin.
"Well, I mean-- we don't always have to have sex, if you don't feel like it."
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If she's going to be perfectly frank.
It's not her that's the problem.
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Again, not the first time she's ever said something that surprised him this way.
"Well, d'you want me to give it to you now?"
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Resting her head back against his shoulder, she actually gives it a little thought. She can count on one hand how many times they've been intimate since Cubefall, and still have four fingers to spare; however, feeling wanted turns her on more than telling him what to do.
Most of the time.
She fingers her necklace, running her thumb over the smooth metal and letting the words sink into her skin.
"S'all right. M'pretty tired. You pro'ly are, too."
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Maybe he's glib and a little overconfident when he says this, but really, it should be expected by now.
He sweeps his hand up and down between her shoulders, half-massaging, fingertips slipping underneath the hem of her camisole at one point to stroke the small of her back.
"I'm always gonna up for a little fun, honey, so if the urge strikes you in the middle of the night-- or, y'know, within the next couple of minutes-- I'll be right here."
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Turning to face him, she lets the charm rest against her breast once more and reaches for his face. She kisses him tenderly, mouth just feathering his, warm, slick, and slow.
Sighing, her fingertips run the length of his jaw as she pulls away. She collects her cocoa from the floor, and gets to her feet, walking the few paces to the table in the corner. She takes a few sips of lukewarm chocolate, and then turns around, leaning against the table with him in her line of sight.
Just quietly watching him.
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He trails his fingertips along the silver chain around her neck, over her clavicle and down the center of her chest, just stopping at the pendant. The chain is cool to the touch, her skin warm and smooth.
Tipping her chin up, he leans in and kisses her, the taste of cocoa on both of their tongues.
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She spares no care for the cup he takes from her. They're locked in a dance, where glancing away would be a misstep. She meets him, blue on blue, goosebumps rising on her bare arms when he touches her. The only time she breaks eye contact is when his fingers reach the pendant. She glances down, and looks back up at him with an eyebrow arched.
What're you gonna do, Fireman?
The kiss is smoky and easy, like slipping on your favorite sweater on a cold day, and curling up in front of a wood stove. She wraps her hands around his lapel, holding onto him.
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As a fireman, Tommy also knows how to set fires and keep them burning. Every fire needs a little stoking; some fires take a little longer to get going, others erupt into uncontrollable flames in seconds.
This kiss is a slow burn. For now.
He rests his hands on her hips, slipping his fingers underneath her camisole, slowly inching up her sides bit by bit.
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She does nothing to deepen the kiss or quicken the pace, but she holds on tight, both keeping him there and letting him know without stopping that she likes what he's doing.
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His hands wander her body, over the silk that clings to her curves, tugging the material aside where he can to get to her skin. Breaking the kiss just long enough, he pulls her camisole over her head and tosses it aside, quickly closing the gap between them again before shrugging off his jacket and flinging that aside, too.
Still, he's in no hurry, either. Just that being skin-to-skin with her seems like a nice idea right now.
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"Guess y'really are up for it."
She arches her eyebrows, melting back into the kiss as the space between them winks out of existence. She rubs the nape of his neck, dragging her hands back over his t-shirt. She loves it when he tugs at her clothes, so she returns the favor. Her hands slip under his hem, stroking their way up from his belly to his pecs.
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He growls into her mouth at her touch, but must they break their kiss again? All right, fine, if it means that she gets to pull off his shirt. He helps by slipping his arms free as she drags it off of him, and then it's back to kissing her and caressing her, rough palms on milky skin, hungry for the constant contact.
Inevitably his fingers find the buttons on her trousers and deftly start flipping them loose one by one, his knuckles grazing her belly.
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Her arms cross with his, fingers working at his fly. Everywhere he touches her burns after he moves on, like he's painting her with hot cinder. She's beginning to feel the pleasant escalation of her heartbeat.
"Slow?"
She peels his jeans off his hips, breaking the kiss long enough to feel the tingle in her lips.
"Think we could take our time?"
She hesitates to make requests, but after all the talking they've done recently she's confident enough to risk it. She wants to enjoy this.
And she's missed him.
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"Sure, honey."
He agrees easily. It's rare that she asks anything of him in bed, but he wishes she'd do it more often, just so he knows for sure that she's getting what she wants.
There's a whisper of satin as the knotted ribbon at her navel is pulled free. Grasping her hips for balance, at the same time pushing both her knickers and pants further down, he toes off his boots and kicks them aside.
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So while he takes care of his boots, she arches her back and shimmies free of her clothing, leaning against the table on the heels of her palms. The only thing she's wearing now is her new necklace.
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He slings her arms around his neck again, and grabbing her waist, he easily hefts her up. Arms tightly encircling her, bodies flush against one another-- the coolness of the pendant pressed to his skin-- he's eye-to-eye with her, and he kisses her again, eager and affectionate, with even a touch of playfulness.
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That doesn't mean she can't, or won't, enjoy it. She holds onto him tight once again, wrapping her legs around his waist. She's content to get lost in his eyes, so he catches a snicker when he presses his lips to hers. They haven't made time to laugh in far too long, letting the sparks flying off every nerve and the knot of anticipation in their bellies get the best of them. It's strangely exhilarating, like the occasional press of the cold ribbon between them.
She hadn't envisioned the night ending like this — then again, she hadn't imagined ice skating in the middle of summer, hand in hand with a man who makes her feel centered, oddly enough. However, as he lays her down, their bodies doing the talking for the foreseeable future, she can't envision a better way to end the night.