"You would like them very much," she sweetly promises, "which is what makes them so terrible." She trails more kisses across his collar bone, pausing here and there for a gentle press of her teeth or pass of her tongue.
Harley sits back to admire him with an adoring sigh. He's so beautifully desperate and near ruin already, and they've barely done anything. Something about it feels so tender, so precious, like the first shy fumblings of youth. All need and want and absolutely no clear direction for any of it.
"Keep your hands on the bed," she tells him, "and don't move. I stop the second you so much as twitch." She leans over him again on her knees, bracing herself on her elbows, and gives him one lingering kiss before pulling back to look into his eyes as one hand trails down her own body and disappears between them. Her lashes flutter and she sighs his name like a prayer as her fingers dip teasingly between her own thighs.
She kisses him like someone deserving of love, even that blighted mark, and for once he feels what it is to be the one who is worshipped. Anyone who experienced this kind of devotion and didn't treasure her is far worse than a fool.
It turns out that Gale takes orders well. His hands stay right where she left them, as surely as if she were still pinning him with her invisible mage hand.
"Wait, you shouldn't--" he starts, scared that she is reaching between them to touch him, that it will be too much, but the contact doesn't happen.
Oh. When he realizes what she's doing, he sucks in a sharp breath, but he doesn't dare move.
"Gods, but you truly are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Wickedness and salvation in one. You are a lightning strike splitting the deepest darkness, and the first brush of dawn after the storm." Speaking will just have to not count as movement, because while he can stay still, he cannot remain silent. "A sweeter sight I've never seen, but still I would trade every book I own for the chance to touch you myself, unhindered by the threat of the orb. I would learn every way you like to be touched, like learning an instrument- no, like learning a spell. I wouldn't rest until I could conjure every pleasure you desire."
When she shivers and swallows a needy whine it's more about the fantasy his words are building for them than physical sensation. Harley knows her body and how to bring herself to climax with efficient ease, but now she tries to touch herself the way she thinks Gale might if only he could. Gentle, loving, a little hesitant. Sweet and aimless. Her own pleasure doesn't matter to her as much in the moment as capturing his attention.
"Gale," she sighs again. The back of her hand shifts almost close enough to brush against his erection straining his trousers, but the pressure is so light that it might have just been imagined. "Gale, tell me how you'd touch me. I'll do it exactly the way you say. I want you to talk me through it."
He gazes up at her enraptured. She is the moon and all the stars. She is the sea, and if he drowns in her, he'll thank her for the honor. "Harley," he whispers like a prayer.
But she has a request of him, and he would give her everything he can, even if it can't be everything they want. Gale licks his lips and clears his throat, and when he begins again, his voice is husky and honeyed. "Slowly. Begin slowly, but not uncertainly. As I said, I would want to learn. I want to hear every moan and sigh, discover every sweet noise you might make. I would touch you softly at first, because you deserve to be treated gently. Will you do that for me, love?" His voice remains warm and encouraging, but his hands ball into fists from the effort of restraining the desire to reach for her himself. "Would you sit up, please? I want to see, and I want you to put both hands to good use."
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no subject
Harley sits back to admire him with an adoring sigh. He's so beautifully desperate and near ruin already, and they've barely done anything. Something about it feels so tender, so precious, like the first shy fumblings of youth. All need and want and absolutely no clear direction for any of it.
"Keep your hands on the bed," she tells him, "and don't move. I stop the second you so much as twitch." She leans over him again on her knees, bracing herself on her elbows, and gives him one lingering kiss before pulling back to look into his eyes as one hand trails down her own body and disappears between them. Her lashes flutter and she sighs his name like a prayer as her fingers dip teasingly between her own thighs.
no subject
It turns out that Gale takes orders well. His hands stay right where she left them, as surely as if she were still pinning him with her invisible mage hand.
"Wait, you shouldn't--" he starts, scared that she is reaching between them to touch him, that it will be too much, but the contact doesn't happen.
Oh. When he realizes what she's doing, he sucks in a sharp breath, but he doesn't dare move.
"Gods, but you truly are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Wickedness and salvation in one. You are a lightning strike splitting the deepest darkness, and the first brush of dawn after the storm." Speaking will just have to not count as movement, because while he can stay still, he cannot remain silent. "A sweeter sight I've never seen, but still I would trade every book I own for the chance to touch you myself, unhindered by the threat of the orb. I would learn every way you like to be touched, like learning an instrument- no, like learning a spell. I wouldn't rest until I could conjure every pleasure you desire."
no subject
"Gale," she sighs again. The back of her hand shifts almost close enough to brush against his erection straining his trousers, but the pressure is so light that it might have just been imagined. "Gale, tell me how you'd touch me. I'll do it exactly the way you say. I want you to talk me through it."
no subject
But she has a request of him, and he would give her everything he can, even if it can't be everything they want. Gale licks his lips and clears his throat, and when he begins again, his voice is husky and honeyed. "Slowly. Begin slowly, but not uncertainly. As I said, I would want to learn. I want to hear every moan and sigh, discover every sweet noise you might make. I would touch you softly at first, because you deserve to be treated gently. Will you do that for me, love?" His voice remains warm and encouraging, but his hands ball into fists from the effort of restraining the desire to reach for her himself. "Would you sit up, please? I want to see, and I want you to put both hands to good use."