[ she’s so warm she doesn’t even really need her sweatshirt either, but she’s bare beneath it, nothing but skin meeting his fingers when he slips his hand underneath it, the delicate curve of her spine that arches as she simultaneously leans back into his touch and strains up in order to reach his face too. lying on the bed like this, she can make her way up the length of his body easily in spite of their height difference, and now she’s too motivated to keep kissing him, little soft presses of her mouth to his neck, his jaw, wherever she can reach without craning too much.
she doesn’t know if he’s awake yet — she hasn’t opened her eyes fully to check — but he sound he makes, that low rumble, seems to be a fair indication that she’s roused him a little and she finally inches her way up the bed until their faces are closer to level, until she can find his lips with hers, fitting them together in something slow and gentle. there’s nothing rushing in it, nothing impatient — and nothing working inside her other than her own appreciative want for him, now that she’s woken up to him still here in her bed with her. ]
no subject
she doesn’t know if he’s awake yet — she hasn’t opened her eyes fully to check — but he sound he makes, that low rumble, seems to be a fair indication that she’s roused him a little and she finally inches her way up the bed until their faces are closer to level, until she can find his lips with hers, fitting them together in something slow and gentle. there’s nothing rushing in it, nothing impatient — and nothing working inside her other than her own appreciative want for him, now that she’s woken up to him still here in her bed with her. ]