(no subject)

[mycursedface]

Medusa, living as she does in a cave, is still not entirely used this whole having doors business. Nor is she used to knocking, but it wasn't all that long ago that she was living here, so she remembers to knock.

And hope that Sam's in.

And that he isn't...busy.

(she has the invitation in her hand)

Comments

[necessary_child]

"Do you want me to stop?"

[mycursedface]

A deep breath.

"No."

[necessary_child]

Sam's watching her with wide, careful eyes.

"You say stop, we stop, Meda. However far we go, no questions asked. I swear it." He doesn't touch her; at least, no more than he already is.

[mycursedface]

"I know, Lucifer. I trust you. And I want...you. This. I'm just...still nervous."

[necessary_child]

"I know."

This time, he reaches up to cup her cheek with one hand.

"It'll be okay, Beautiful. If not now, then in the end."

[mycursedface]

A wry smile.

"But it can't get okay if I don't work on it."

[necessary_child]

Sam smiles back at her.

"And I think I like the idea of working on it," he says, and kisses her.

[mycursedface]

Well, good.

At least, Medusa would say that, if her mouth wasn't otherwise engaged.

[necessary_child]

But isn't this much more fun than saying things?

Well, if it isn't, Sam has been falling down on the job. And that's the sort of thing he likes to discourage. His hands slide around Medusa again, tracing patterns and designs over her back.

[mycursedface]

It...is, actually. Saying things means Medusa can end up tripping over her own words and not saying exactly what she means, but here...

Here she can kiss him, have her hands ghost over his skin until they reach the buckle of his belt, and there really isn't much room for misunderstandings.

[necessary_child]

There's absolutely no misunderstanding that wriggle from Sam, as he kisses her a little more fiercely.

[mycursedface]

It's a good thing that Medusa can multitask, really. Of course, that kiss make her fingers slip, but it doesn't take that long for her clever fingers to undo Sam's belt and slowly start to pull it off.

[necessary_child]

Sam's own light, artist's fingers trail down to the small of her back then around her hips, finding the catches on her skirt and neatly undoing them.

[mycursedface]

While this does mean that wriggling out of said clothing is easier, she also has to wriggle off him to do so.

...She'll leave that, for the moment. He still has a fly to undo, after all.

[necessary_child]

Sam groans, softly, as she eases the zip down. He wriggles out of his trousers as best he can, running his hands down her skin.

[mycursedface]

Right. A certain amount of slipping off is needed here (damn skirts. stupid knickers), but Medusa is very, very soon back and kissing him. She's nervous, yes, but she wants him so damn much, and at the moment desire has the upperhand.

[necessary_child]

Sam wriggles against her, kissing her fiercely, hands tracing surprisingly gentle lines over her skin, down to the small of her back.

[mycursedface]

Medusa winds an arm around his shoulder and she's close enough to him that's all just skin sliding against skin (well, also scales, given her snakes). Her wings, already partially unfolded so they don't bend painfully against the bed, are also moving. Not much, just...restless, even as she runs her nails lightly down his spine.

[necessary_child]

Sam groans something soft and incoherent, squirming out of his boxers with the aid of some magic, and running his hands over Medusa's rear.

[mycursedface]

Which gets a muffled squeak, and that's enough to break the kiss into a soft giggle. But even she bends her head to rest her forehead against his shoulder, her hand on Sam's back moves around to snake into the gap that her new position has made.

Curious Gorgons are curious things, but she remembers enough about the time in the shower to have a good idea of how her boyfriend will react to her fingers sliding against his cock.

It's usually a good idea to test these things a couple of times.

[necessary_child]

Sam moans against her hair, fierce with want-need-want, his hips jerking and back arching just a little.

[mycursedface]

She has a good memory, she remembers this. And she's a sensual person, when all is said and done, used to weaving and drawing and other fiddly things, and this is not so much different...

Right?

Well, she's treating it as if it's not much different. Just slide her fingers and palm up and down and around, and listen to how he reacts.

[necessary_child]

Sam bucks and gasps her name, over and over, arching into her hand. His fingers judder gracelessly over her skin, touching her back, touching her wings, movements as shaky as his breathing.

[mycursedface]

His movements are...distracting, to say the least. Her feathers may be gold, but feather-thin and she can still feel his hands running down the undersides of her wings.

Her fingers dig into his shoulder everytime he does.

But it's more his reaction that makes her own breath come short. All he has to do is smile, sometimes, and she turns red - now, he's gasping and moving and clutching at her, all because of her.

Because the way she does this.

And that.

And, what would happen if she did -

Ah.

Must remember that.

And slowly, she speeds it up in time to the movement of his hips.

[necessary_child]

Sam moans her name fiercely, bucking --

-- and pulls together the last of his coherence to look up at her with blazing dark eyes.

"Meda." Voice scratchy and gasping. "Meda, can we? Can we?"