[OOM: The Tent that dreams of being a studio apartment.]

[mnt_raph]

*The door/flap opens, and Raph carries her across the threshold.
He doesn't want to let her go. Anything but constant contact just isn't enough.
So much time to make up for.
So much.*

Comments

[locks_it_up]

"You're kinda cute, yourself."

She leans closer, and places one soft kiss on his lips, then snakes her arm around his waist, pulls him to her, leans her head on his shoulder.

A breath taken. A sigh.

"I love you."

[mnt_raph]

i love you very much.

*He turns and kisses her on the temple.

always..

[locks_it_up]

She kisses the base of his throat, where she can feel the pulse just underneath the skin. There might be some small noise out of her.

She missed this. She had been trying not to think about it. But there he is, warm and alive and... she loves him. For some reason.

[mnt_raph]

*He tips her chin...*

let go

*and then kisses her again.*

[locks_it_up]

She'd consume him utterly if she did that.

But she can kiss him. Oh yes. And she's careful, so careful, but her arms go around his neck and she pulls him close, close, close, and makes some little noise of wanting into his mouth, against lips and teeth and tongue and oh, this is sweet.

[mnt_raph]

*Maybe, just maybe...that's exactly what he wants. Oblivion. To be part of something so whole and pure that he'll never be scared again. Never be lonely again. Never be...himself again.

God, he needs her in ways that are not good for either of them. For anyone, really.

He whines and aches and arches. Pulling her towards him. It would almost violent were it not for the care he takes with her.*

[locks_it_up]

She peels the shirt off of him, and tosses it into a corner. And oh. The curve of his collarbone. The sweet structure of his neck. She runs her fingers down his ribcage to flutter at his hipbones. She traces his collarbone with her lips, kisses down his sternum to rest her mouth over his heart. Her hands slide around to the small of his back, pulling him closer.

[mnt_raph]

*Breathing has become secondary to just existing. Her hands and mouth on his skin. The familar numbing quiet before the onslaught of sensation. It's the fire of damnation a repentant soul cries for in the dark.

And yet it's still not enough. Not by half.
He fumbles for the hem of her shirt, seeking the cool alabastor skin that lies beneath.*

[locks_it_up]

There she is. Half-peeled. She leans back, her hands still on him, and grins.

It's a wicked little grin.

"What're you gonna do with me?"

[mnt_raph]

you'll be lucky to get off this table, i can promise you that.

*It's not speech. It's an articulate growl.
He pulls her back closer. A kiss. One that ends with him grazing her bottom lip with his teeth.*