[ Mind clouded by the fog of arousal, he almost says that she's perfect instead of just her choice of lingerie. But he manages to bite back those words. ]
You like my mouth, huh? You should see what else it can do.
[ There's an almost devious look on his face, a smirk tugging at the corner of flushed, kiss-swollen lips, bright blue eyes looking more like ocean than sky, darkened by the way his pupils are blown open, dilated as he watches her come closer. Jesse shares Natasha's sentiment about pain--about enjoying walking that line between it and pleasure, but for him it's more about the pain reminding him that he's alive to feel it. Too often, his line of work leaves him feeling numb and broken at the end of a long, monotonous day. Taking turns between going through the motions and struggling to survive. Pain is sometimes the only thing that feels real.
He's nearly trembling by the time he feels her hand run along his chest, his heart beating hard and fast. His breath hitches in his throat when she circles his nipple, and it stiffens beneath her touches. A whimper is pulled from his throat, a deliciously tortured sound, as she tugs at it, his body tensing briefly until he all but melts against her.
Jesse watches Natasha down her shot with eager eyes, waiting for the shot glass to be set aside so he can be as rough as he wants to without the risk of shattering glass interrupting them. He breathes through the harsh suction her mouth inflicts on his skin. He knows it'll leave a mark, and something about him makes his dick twitch beneath his baggy jeans. The thought of her leaving something behind that he might admire later, when he catches sight of it in his bathroom mirror, is enough to pull a moan from his lips.
The sound is muffled by hers as she closes the gap once again, tongue flicking teasingly before what started turns into a more passionate kiss. Jesse reaches up, fingers tangling into her hair, cupping at the back of her head to keep her pulled in. He's often chastised for his mouth. He never knows quite when to keep it shut, but in times like these, it's seen for all it can do, and he puts on a show of it. He can tie a cherry stem into a knot in his mouth, and the skill shows in the way he flattens his tongue against the sensitive roof of her mouth, stroking once towards the front of it before it tangles with hers, a moan swallowed by the pressing of their lips.
Jesse grinds up against Natasha more boldly now. He's hard as a rock and leaking. There's undoubtedly a growing wet spot on the front of his boxer shorts. Black with little cartoon skulls printed across them. But he's still got his dark jeans on, hiding that fact from her. She can absolutely tell how turned on he is, though, the denim tented in the front as he pulls back to gasp in a breath. ]
Get on the table.
[ It's a command more than a suggestion, way too turned on for politeness, voice thick and raspy. ]
no subject
[ Mind clouded by the fog of arousal, he almost says that she's perfect instead of just her choice of lingerie. But he manages to bite back those words. ]
You like my mouth, huh? You should see what else it can do.
[ There's an almost devious look on his face, a smirk tugging at the corner of flushed, kiss-swollen lips, bright blue eyes looking more like ocean than sky, darkened by the way his pupils are blown open, dilated as he watches her come closer. Jesse shares Natasha's sentiment about pain--about enjoying walking that line between it and pleasure, but for him it's more about the pain reminding him that he's alive to feel it. Too often, his line of work leaves him feeling numb and broken at the end of a long, monotonous day. Taking turns between going through the motions and struggling to survive. Pain is sometimes the only thing that feels real.
He's nearly trembling by the time he feels her hand run along his chest, his heart beating hard and fast. His breath hitches in his throat when she circles his nipple, and it stiffens beneath her touches. A whimper is pulled from his throat, a deliciously tortured sound, as she tugs at it, his body tensing briefly until he all but melts against her.
Jesse watches Natasha down her shot with eager eyes, waiting for the shot glass to be set aside so he can be as rough as he wants to without the risk of shattering glass interrupting them. He breathes through the harsh suction her mouth inflicts on his skin. He knows it'll leave a mark, and something about him makes his dick twitch beneath his baggy jeans. The thought of her leaving something behind that he might admire later, when he catches sight of it in his bathroom mirror, is enough to pull a moan from his lips.
The sound is muffled by hers as she closes the gap once again, tongue flicking teasingly before what started turns into a more passionate kiss. Jesse reaches up, fingers tangling into her hair, cupping at the back of her head to keep her pulled in. He's often chastised for his mouth. He never knows quite when to keep it shut, but in times like these, it's seen for all it can do, and he puts on a show of it. He can tie a cherry stem into a knot in his mouth, and the skill shows in the way he flattens his tongue against the sensitive roof of her mouth, stroking once towards the front of it before it tangles with hers, a moan swallowed by the pressing of their lips.
Jesse grinds up against Natasha more boldly now. He's hard as a rock and leaking. There's undoubtedly a growing wet spot on the front of his boxer shorts. Black with little cartoon skulls printed across them. But he's still got his dark jeans on, hiding that fact from her. She can absolutely tell how turned on he is, though, the denim tented in the front as he pulls back to gasp in a breath. ]
Get on the table.
[ It's a command more than a suggestion, way too turned on for politeness, voice thick and raspy. ]