[ He kisses her back into the mussed fabric of his jacket, open-mouthed and deep, back arching into her touch as her hands run along heated skin. She's nothing like Sophie, and this is nothing like an act of love, except for the kind of love that helps two people keep one another alive, that reminds them both they aren't alone. That's a sort of love, too, deep and drowning and woven into their bones, their veins. He doesn't love Lune the way he'd loved Sophie, but in this moment he loves her in a different way; the only friend he has left, the only person here he can take care of.
And he will take care of her, he promises himself. She lets her head fall back and he takes the invitation to kiss along the curve of her pale, perfect throat, stubble brushing over skin before he laves it with his tongue.
He doesn't stop when he gets to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, but spends a long moment there adoring the muscle that keeps her shoulders so straight and her head so high, grazing his teeth over skin before he soothes it with a kiss. And then he ducks his head, back shifting under her hands as he leans on an elbow and pushes himself downward, kissing over the plane of her chest to the soft curve of one perfect breast. She's so soft beneath his mouth, soft and yielding as he pulls gently at skin. He tries not to rush, but impatience and need lash at him, and he lifts his head to set his mouth over her nipple, drawing up on the tight bud of flesh and running his tongue warmly over her.
A sound rolls out of him, a groan that rumbles in his chest, and he shifts his weight to his left side so he can run the palm of his right hand up her bare belly to her other breast, curving his fingers over her, stroking, wanting to drive everything but pleasure out of her mind entirely. ]
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Date: 2025-05-27 12:10 am (UTC)And he will take care of her, he promises himself. She lets her head fall back and he takes the invitation to kiss along the curve of her pale, perfect throat, stubble brushing over skin before he laves it with his tongue.
He doesn't stop when he gets to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, but spends a long moment there adoring the muscle that keeps her shoulders so straight and her head so high, grazing his teeth over skin before he soothes it with a kiss. And then he ducks his head, back shifting under her hands as he leans on an elbow and pushes himself downward, kissing over the plane of her chest to the soft curve of one perfect breast. She's so soft beneath his mouth, soft and yielding as he pulls gently at skin. He tries not to rush, but impatience and need lash at him, and he lifts his head to set his mouth over her nipple, drawing up on the tight bud of flesh and running his tongue warmly over her.
A sound rolls out of him, a groan that rumbles in his chest, and he shifts his weight to his left side so he can run the palm of his right hand up her bare belly to her other breast, curving his fingers over her, stroking, wanting to drive everything but pleasure out of her mind entirely. ]