Castle falls back with her, both of them victims of second gravity, and the world goes soft at the edges. The sheets and pillows smell like her; scent, the closest sense tied to memory, pulls Castle into her close, shuttered world. He bends above her, not as graceful as she could be, but trying to be gentle; trying to be what she needs.
Her hands move deliberately and so do his -- tracing the edge of her camisole with his fingers, sliding it up over her navel. He stops there, though, his hand on her stomach, fingertips stalled just beneath the curve of her ribcage. He's not being polite. He's not afraid to go higher in search of fuller territories. He wants her to feel him, the way he touches her, the steadfastness of his hand a mirror for what he said to her.
I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here.
There's more to the kiss now than just tender experimentation. They've had a taste of each other and now the hunger is overwhelming, threatening to spill over and devour the both of them. He moves his mouth over hers, sliding the edge of his tongue over her bottom lip, as if he's asking permission.
no subject
Her hands move deliberately and so do his -- tracing the edge of her camisole with his fingers, sliding it up over her navel. He stops there, though, his hand on her stomach, fingertips stalled just beneath the curve of her ribcage. He's not being polite. He's not afraid to go higher in search of fuller territories. He wants her to feel him, the way he touches her, the steadfastness of his hand a mirror for what he said to her.
I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here.
There's more to the kiss now than just tender experimentation. They've had a taste of each other and now the hunger is overwhelming, threatening to spill over and devour the both of them. He moves his mouth over hers, sliding the edge of his tongue over her bottom lip, as if he's asking permission.