kirktastic | [NCC-1701 DEN OF SIN] -- [Special Rules, Open All, OOC Character Moment!]

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[NCC-1701 DEN OF SIN] -- [Special Rules, Open All, OOC Character Moment!]

Rules: - simple and easy.

1) Unless you obviously already have an agreement or something going with another character, please ask before you post under their thread wanting to have sexy times. THIS INCLUDES PEOPLE FROM OUTSIDE THE RP AS WELL! If you aren't part of our group but want to have some fun sexy times with a character... well, shoot them a PM! Within the group, please do the same as a courtesy.
2) Don't be discouraged, upset, or anything similar if someone doesn't want to sex up with your character. Just reply to their PM with a 'no thanks' if you really don't want to for whatever reason. They could be too overwhelmed with other threads, or wanting to concentrate on one, or just don't have time to take more than one thread. Don't take it personally, please.
3) Post down below with your name AND your location in the subject of the thread if you want to be somewhere specific (like Jim will be specifically on the bridge) and change it for anyone who comes by. That way, its the absolute easiest way to find someone, track someone, gloss over someone, whatever.
4) If you're going to be doing something that COULD squick someone, please mark it with a warning in the subject of the comment. Just a courtesy thing!
5) Talk to someone before sliding into a multi-person scene. Don't just interrupt without making sure you're wanted.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She watched him with blue eyes, shining and liquid, and a swift, decisive nod as she murmured her assent.

It was easier, the fastener, with her leaning close--he could see what he was doing, even if he was distracted not that it was bad to be distracted, oh no, rather the opposite, goodsoftwet--he had to breathe, to pause, to still his hands and lift smoothly; didn't want to tear the cloth.

He followed the line of the fastener, craned his neck to ~~gasp as lips closed down firm~~ examine the seam, the tiny white teeth that murmured apart over her bare skin, cool and silky to the touch.

The powder-blue hook-and-eye clutched at the tips of fingernails that were longer than he was used to, longer than he remembered, and she shivered a little, trembling under his hand. She didn't edge away--hadn't hurt her, then.

"Christine, I--" what were the words, she smelled so good, was so pretty. Curled his fingers under the elastic, not hard enough to pull or snap. "May I?"

It was only fair - but that wasn't it at all; it wasn't about fairness or evening the playing field, it was about the way her heart sped up in her chest as he smoothed his hand over her back, tested the give of the elastic with his fingers.

She pressed a kiss to his breastbone, the skin there warm and smooth, and then looked up at him. He was so close, his cheeks flushed green slightly - other people might have found that strange or unsettling, but to Christine it was beautiful. She pressed gentle fingers against the hollow underneath his cheekbone, gazing up into warm brown eyes.

"Yes," she said. It came out as a whisper; no, oh no, he had to know she wanted this. She leaned forward, pressed their lips together briefly before repeating it more definitively. "Yes, you may."

His pulse leaped in his side as her fingers danced feather-weight on his face. Their lips just fit, were right together.

She'd warmed against him little by little, a glow of pink showing under her skin, a reddening flush to her lips. Different. Lovely.

She liked his eyes. Where had that come from--ah.

It didn't always happen. Only with someone special.

And she wanted him back.

"Wonderful." A low, feline hum of satisfaction against the corner of her mouth, fingers curling as he carefully unhitched the clasps.

She smiled, her eyes falling shut as he deftly unhooked the clasps. The dress had gone slack as he'd unzipped it, the loose fabric falling away from her back, but she'd have to move to take it off properly.

Still...there was no hurry. She stayed where she was a moment longer, enjoying the solidness of him beneath her, the comforting warmth of his hand against her back.

And then pushed up and away, allowing her hands to linger on his torso before reaching up to begin working her sleeves down over her hands.

Christine's eyelashes fluttered closed above a lazy smile and he squirmed, took in a sharp breath against the smooth press of her palms, the slight hitch of fingers on his ribs before she drew back and.

Oh. Well it would just be rude, not to help a lady. He stroked her shoulder with his free hand she had lovely skin, too; that would be good, to feel that all over.

"Allow me." It was a low hum. Not quite asking anymore.

She shivered as he drew his fingers across her shoulder, and nodded, letting her hands fall away from her sleeves.

They fit close against her arms, and it took some maneuvering for him to work them over her hands. Some contact was, of course, inevitable. She tried to hide her smile at the way his cheeks burned green when his fingers brushed against hers.

"Thank you," she murmured, as the sleeves finally came free and the dress crumpled, pooling around her hips. Her bra hung loose on her shoulders, scratching irritably against her skin, and she reached up automatically to pull it away and drop it to the side.

Her dress whispered as it crumpled flat. He tried to focus on her wrist, on her elbow, not her fingers as they flittered, fanned out to let her undergarment slip through them.

Ayel just watched her, for a long slow moment, followed a flush of pink upward from her hips, the smooth expanse of her waist and the gentle curving slope of her ribs. And higher still.

He knew he was blushing, could feel the heat of it in his face, in his skin. He grinned his way through it and wriggled back a bit, pressing for contact as he slid his elbow to the side, used it to lean closer as he tilted toward vertical.

Even through the blush, she still looked faintly chilled. Goosebumps.

He would just have to help her get warm. Best to do that by keeping close. He curved his neck inward against her, pressed a soft kiss against the rounded dip of her shoulder, right where it became her collarbone.

She shivered: ostensibly from the cool air hitting her back, but not entirely unmotivated by the way his gaze traveled up her torso. He was still green, but smiling, and she smiled back, bending down slightly to meet him as he pushed himself up from the mattress.

His skin was warm and soft as he pressed against her, and she bent her head against his neck, wrapping one arm around his back to support him as she reached her other hand up to stroke through short hair.

"So beautiful," she murmured, her breath tickling his ear.

She leaned against him, cool-warm and sleek as water, wrapped an arm around him to pull close. It only made sense to lean with her, to wind an arm beside hers in return, fingers curling along the crook of her shoulder.

The gentle pressure of breath against his ear, the sweep of fingers combing through his scalp, flickered sensation down his spine. Registered almost more than the compliment, beautiful; she was beautiful, too.

He kissed her in answer, lips pressed down soft along the smooth bone that drew a line, pointed the way to the hollow of her throat. But he'd hurried before, seen her eyes flash wide and white in alarm when he rushed her, at first. She was just as wonderful a little at a time.

He let a sigh escape against her skin and traced after it with his lips.

She tightened her arms around him, drawing him closer as he fluttered kisses down her collarbone. His hair tickled her neck, and she smiled, darting her tongue out, the barest teasing touch to the shell of his ear.

He was warm, and so close she could feel...was that his heartbeat? She carefully moved her hand, settling it gently against his side, right over where his heart pulsed fast under his skin. Marveling in the difference.

He liked being close. He slid into her touch, pressed along soft, salty female skin and rubbed up to her in that feline way he'd never quite admit, gently shifting his grip to let her hand between them, down to his hip--vulnerable, but it would be safe here, with her. It was good to feel her, to breathe her in. She even smelled pretty.

A tension he hadn't known was still there uncurled in the floor of his spine, flashed to warmth at that whisper of tongue, the hint of a smile behind it. He curved his neck, turning--who was he to deny a lady?--and discovered that he could hear her heart in his other ear, leaping against her ribs.

Remarkable.

He didn't even realize he'd said it aloud.

Christine laughed at that, simply bubbling over in a rush of endorphins and happy anticipation.

She smiled down at him fondly.

"Yes," she said quietly, "it is, isn't it?" Not only the anatomical differences between them, but all of it: the mere fact that they were here, like this, despite everything that should have made it impossible. How wonderful it was. She slid her hand from his hip across the smooth hot skin of his belly, her fingers hesitating as they brushed across the waistband of his pants.

She turned her head to meet his gaze, silently asking permission.

She had a clear, bright laugh that made him smile, that made it seem like he'd never be able to do anything else, or ever even want to.

Well. Maybe some other things. Like stare up at her, into deep blue eyes, before ghosting a kiss down the center of her sternum, hot flickering maybes of the tongue. Always a little closer in. Playful, even as her hand glided inward and down, warmer all the time where it rested low against the band of his pants without insisting. Warmth coiled just behind his bellybutton at the heat in her gaze.

"." A slow tilt of the hips, a little puff of breath, as he kissed her breast at last. "Definitely."

She gasped as his lips pressed against her, one hand curling in his hair, holding him close, while the other traveled along the waistband of his pants, searching for the opening.

It wasn't where she thought it would be, and she skimmed her hand along the fabric, allowing her fingers to dip just underneath, letting skin brush against skin. There, against his hip - that was it. She had to break away, moving back from his touch regretfully, in order to see what she was doing.

She stroked her other hand through his hair once more, lingering fondly before dropping it down, concentrating on undoing the unfamiliar fastenings.

She drew a quick soft gasp and curled closer, threaded fingers in his hair. Such a pretty

sound. Maybe she would make it again, if he--but Christine slid backward, tilted away from him gently. Stroking his hair, not upset but reluctant to let go.

For a moment they were a confusion of hands--his curved to her shoulder, the slope of her spine, hers curled in under his trousers, darted in sleek just behind the waistband. Little velvet kisses just below his navel. Both of them seeking more touch.

"Here," and it wasn't secrecy that drove his voice low as their hands touched, as he guided her fingers through the short crosswise pull of a half-snap.

She didn't need his help, but oh, he was glad to give it.

She looked up to meet his eyes, offering a smile.

"Thank you."

The garment still didn't quite want to give, and a quick glance confirmed that there was a parallel opening at his other hip. He moved to help her as she reached for it, his fingers already seeking the clasp.

But she looked up at him and caught his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze and raising it briefly to her lips before guiding him gently but insistently aside.

She undid the other snap herself, and carefully tucked her hands into the waistband to pull down and away.

She smiled thanks, undid the others herself, and he squirmed, suddenly wanting them off, it was time for them to be off, already, why hadn't he done it before? He knew where the catch was, angled his hip and--

Oh. She watched him with blue, blue eyes and squeezed that hand, gently trapped it and kissed him twice...he breathed through his teeth and tried to relax for her--she knew what she wanted, was sure, and it sent heat all through him.

He wriggled a little, lifted his hips to help her as she tugged fabric down.

She pulled the trousers down, the cloth whispering over his skin, coaxed them over feet and off, down to lie forgotten on the floor.

She couldn't resist a tickle to those bare feet, a light skimming of her fingers that made him gasp and kick.

Christine deftly avoided flailing legs and scooted back up the bed. Ayel's hand still lay where she'd set it; he'd been careful not to move it, and she smiled, threaded her fingers through his and leaned over for a kiss.

Don't move. It had been clear in her fond, firm grip and definite placement of his hand. He did try to be still, and would have managed, except she--she tickled his feet, and he'd never been able to stand that, gasping, kicked reflexively around a shudder.

But he didn't move his hand.

He knew an order, even an unspoken one, and held it exactly as she'd placed it, feeling the bones in his wrist, his arm, warm and loosen with the touch. He was careful not to grip tight, not to insist, their fingers curling gently together for as long as she liked.

He rose slowly, arched his new spine in a liquid curve and pressed his lips almost reverently to hers.

The kiss was - sweet, almost chaste, and it took her breath away.

She brought her free hand up to cup his cheek, gently framing his face with her palm. His skin was warm and soft and it was enough to kiss back gently, to stroke her fingers slowly along his jawline as the fingers of her other hand tangled lightly with his.

It was enough.

For the moment.

Her lips pressed silk-soft on his, with his, and her palm was smooth and cool against his face. Her fingers threaded cool and easy through his, sweet as an evening in the shade after the heat of day. She traced feather patterns down his jaw, lightly, and--and it was good to be held.

Very good.

She parted her mouth against his, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of his lips. He tasted so good, felt so good underneath her hands, and he liked this. It was slower than he was used to, different, but it was nice to go slowly, to be savored, learning each other a little bit at a time, and -

Christine's eyes flew open, and she gasped, pulling away and staring at him, wide-eyed.

"Oh," she said when she could speak. "Oh." She reached towards him again, tentatively, her fingers hesitating a few millimeters from his cheek. Perhaps he wouldn't be pleased that she had read his thoughts. Perhaps he wouldn't want her to touch him.

"Did - did you feel that?"

Her mouth parted over his, her tongue flickering along his lips, slow and slick and warm, easing them apart in a soft smile, a kiss all gentle exploration, just a taste--she liked it, liked him, learning the shape and feeling and sense of--

Shock. She gasped against him, eyes wide, startled and summer-bright.

"Oh," softly, after a moment, and then again, "oh," low and slow, weighted with understanding.

Why would she be--nervous? Anxious? Hesitant to touch, to feel. Had someone read her before, hurt her? No, no, she was worried. Worried he would be upset, or maybe offended; the worry was clearest.

She was beautiful. She would probably even cry beautifully, but he had no wish to ever see her do it.

"I did," he hummed, smiling, gently nuzzling the hand that she was almost afraid to let touch. He rubbed back, fingers tightening ever so slightly where they still met hers. Not hesitant, not angry in the least.

He closed the distance between them, pressing gently against her hand, and Christine spread her fingers slowly against his cheek, only shaking a little.

Reassurance and pleasure filled her mind. He was glad it had happened, happy she was able to do this; he wanted to share.

"Oh my," she breathed. "Oh my goodness."

It was different, strange: a little frightening, perhaps, but only because it was so new. She smiled, and shifted her fingers in his, finding a better grip.

"And...you can see what I'm thinking, too?" The idea was terrifying and exhilarating, all at once. She reached out with her mind, clumsily, shyly, unsure if he would pick up on the feelings she was sending: wonder, amazement, gratitude.

She was shaking, faintly, a fine tremor of startled realization, that needle-prickling knowledge of different. But, oh, she was glad, too, willing to reach, to try.

"Some," he murmured against her jaw, kissing lightly. "Nothing you don't want me to."

It curled outward from where they touched, a sense like sunlight, like the stunned smile just after a good surprise.

He smiled back, inside and out.

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