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(les)
April honestly isn't sure why she's here.
Les had said something about dinner and before she could even think about what she was saying, she had found herself agreeing and now she's here, uncertain, on unsteady ground, and neither of these are things she likes being. It's not a date, she doesn't go on dates, she simply does what she needs to do in order to get by, but befriending a witch she'd met first in a bar and then on the beach has little to do with just getting by. She doesn't need him in any way to get the things she wants.
But she's here anyway and she doesn't entirely understand why.
She'd put on a simple green dress and a pair of sandals, left her hair loose around her shoulders. She's left her taser at home, too, because she can't imagine Les doing anything that would require her needing it, which is stupid. It's how people get into trouble, by assuming they know things about a person they've spent barely any time with at all, but she's confident in her decision at the same time, just one more conflicting thought in a long line of conflicting thoughts.
It isn't even that she's here simply because she wants to sleep with him -- though she wouldn't say no. If that was all she wanted, she's certain there are less difficult ways to go about it. In short, there isn't much she understands about Les or about what she's doing.
But she's here anyway and she fixes the hem of her dress before knocking on the door of the guest house.
Les had said something about dinner and before she could even think about what she was saying, she had found herself agreeing and now she's here, uncertain, on unsteady ground, and neither of these are things she likes being. It's not a date, she doesn't go on dates, she simply does what she needs to do in order to get by, but befriending a witch she'd met first in a bar and then on the beach has little to do with just getting by. She doesn't need him in any way to get the things she wants.
But she's here anyway and she doesn't entirely understand why.
She'd put on a simple green dress and a pair of sandals, left her hair loose around her shoulders. She's left her taser at home, too, because she can't imagine Les doing anything that would require her needing it, which is stupid. It's how people get into trouble, by assuming they know things about a person they've spent barely any time with at all, but she's confident in her decision at the same time, just one more conflicting thought in a long line of conflicting thoughts.
It isn't even that she's here simply because she wants to sleep with him -- though she wouldn't say no. If that was all she wanted, she's certain there are less difficult ways to go about it. In short, there isn't much she understands about Les or about what she's doing.
But she's here anyway and she fixes the hem of her dress before knocking on the door of the guest house.
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Still, she says, "Next time," before she gets up from her stool, both hands sliding up his chest to hook around his neck and then she tugs him closer for another kiss. There's something about him, something about the heat of his body so close to hers, the scent of him, something about the way he kisses. She just wants more of it.
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"Next time we finish the food first," he says in between kisses, grinning against her lips. Their food still smells aromatic and delicious, but he's suddenly less intent to care. April is taking all his attentions now, and he's very much obliged to continue giving them to her. "Because I have to say I was looking forward to the orange chicken..." He moves his hands up to her collar, cupping her neck for a moment as their mouths move together in a slow rhythm. After a second, he manages to get the zipper in his fingers and unzips her dress down her back. He means to undress her now, undress her first, all his focus on seeing her, on what's underneath. He lets her dress slip away using his hands to push it to the floor in a heap at her feet. He stares at her for a very few long moments. She's actually impossible, perfect. He appreciates it because who couldn't appreciate someone who looks the way she does.
But he's not even sure that's why he likes her. It's something more. Something that has him wanting April more than he's wanted anyone in quite awhile. "But maybe I can let this distraction slide this time," he finishes with a smirk reaching to wrap his arm around her again, pulling her back to him.
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She's distracted from the food now, anyway, distracted by how close Les is to her, the warmth rolling off him, she can practically feel the change in temperature and she presses herself up against him as she pushes his shirt up, wanting more, wanting skin. "Next time we won't even bother with food," she murmurs, her lips ghosting over his jaw, then down the side of his neck and she's concentrating on the fact that she wants him, because want is always easier than thinking she might actually like a person.
But she does. She likes him.
She doesn't know this place well enough to know where his bedroom is, but she can make a guess that it isn't in the kitchen and as she tugs his shirt up and off, she steps backward, pulling him with her.
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Very fun, judging the way his body responds to her hands sneaking under his shirt, sliding across skin and the muscles of his stomach, to her mouth against his neck. It feels good. Is good. She isn't shy, and he digs that, likes to be touched and kissed. He likes that she wants him back. It's been awhile since somebody has.
His shirt gets tossed away, and she pulls him along by the arm through the kitchen and the living room. The guesthouse is only one floor with the bedroom and bathroom conjoined in a small alcove near the back, and he's happy for that because it only takes seconds to reach the bed. He eyes her for a moment, smiling softly, because he hadn't given much thought to how tonight might go. Maybe sex was always in the cards. But maybe not this, where he feels the anticipation in his gut, the burn of it. "You're making me feel all tingly right now," he confesses for no reason, except that he's a little amused by it, by his own reaction to her.
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"I like tingly," she murmurs, leaning in to kiss him again before she moves back, sitting on the edge of the bed and tugging him down with her. It hadn't been her intention to take him to bed tonight, though she'd certainly thought about it, yet now that she's here she doesn't have any regrets. He's handsome and she likes him and that's an awful lot more than she's had in years. She can't remember -- or she can, she simply doesn't want to -- the last time she liked someone like this.
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After a few seconds of this, he can't help wonder when he's been so drawn to someone this quickly, thinking maybe he hasn't, thinking then whether he should worry about it. Except worry is the last thing he's capable of at the moment. Not with April here with him. Skin to skin. Smiling her teasing smile. It's hard to think of anything else when she touches him. He draws back, shifting onto his hip, just enough where he can smooth a hand downward, brushing her neck, collarbone, and until he lets his hands roam over her bra, sliding his fingers inside, gently caressing her body. Her skin is soft and supple and warm beneath his hand.
Maybe they are jumping into bed together too quick. But not only does he want her bad, hardly can stand how much now that they are laying on the bed, legs and feet entwined, it's been awhile since he's had sex with anyone. That fact is driving him too, driving the concentration he has when he reaches behind under her, unhooking the clasp on her bra. He hasn't been with anyone not for any reason other than simply his life has change so much recently that he hasn't made the time to care. In fact, he hadn't been to Watersong in several weeks before he went that night and met April. And now here they are...
"Yes, tingly. I think I got seduced a little bit with the food and the dress," he mutters at her, kissing her skin in a trail. "Which I'm good with..." He looks at up, past her stomach, giving her a smirk. "I like surprises."
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"My food ordering abilities are my best quality," she says with a laugh, but her lips part and a soft gasp escapes as Les bushes his lips over her skin, as he unhooks her bra. She props herself up on her elbows long enough to take it off, nudging it off and onto the floor and she doesn't lower herself back down to the bed just yet, she only watches him, watches the press of his lips against her stomach.
What she wants, more than anything, is to just strip him down, get him naked, feel the heat of his skin against hers, but she's always rushed through sex, too. She's always made it good, but it's always been aggressive and fast and rough, and having someone treat her like this, it's... very different. And she can't entirely say she minds it. "It must have been the pickles that got me," she adds, dropping her head back down onto the bed with a soft moan.
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April is beautiful, each part more consuming than the next. All his senses are working in overdrive by the time he skates his hands along the flesh of her hips, digging his fingers in her skin, using his lips against the tops of her thighs. Mid-kiss he stops to peek up, laughing at her mention of the pickles.
"I can go grab them from the fridge if thats all it takes," he teases, as he smoothes his hands onto the inside of her legs, between the heat of her thighs, wanting to make her feel good, more than good. Her soft moans make his heart race faster. He wants all of her, but wants slower and arousing too. Wants incredible because it already feels that way, he thinks, from just the way her watching him could totally get him off.
Because he tends to play sex like it were a game. A search for which buttons to press first, the ones to press soft and hard. The ones that make toes curls and hair get pulled. He knows his buttons, and he appreciates someone capable of making him feel good. But he likes this too, finds it pleasurable to figure out someone else. And now there's only a small stretch of fabric keeping him from doing simply that. As soon as he yanks her underwear down with his fingers until they are tossed away too, he puts his mouth and tongue on her, kissing and tasting every inch of heated skin, bracing his hands around her hips as he does, only to feel her even closer, to give her whatever she wants to take from him.
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"Jesus, Les," she breathes and even that, even just saying his name sends a little ripple of pleasure skating up her spine. She twists the fingers of one hand in the sheets under her body, the other hand smoothing over his arm, his shoulder, her fingers curving under and her nails lightly raking against his skin.
He's good at what he's doing and she's distracted from anything else she might want, though the thoughts still hover in the back of her mind. She wants to feel the weight of him in her hand, she wants to feel him hard against her hip, she wants him inside her and the thought pull another moan from her, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, though it's pointless. She can't.
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Everything about April is driving him insane. The sound of his name on her lips, the way her body arches into his when what he's doing feels too good. His tongue on her, teasing and swirling, is actually awesome, her taste and the gentle sounds she makes hitting him straight in the gut, leaving him hard and anxious for the rest. She squeezes down on his shoulder, nails digging into his skin, and he lets his mouth draw back for a second as he licks his lips. He is breathing hard and fast too, his face heated. But he squeezes her back, grabbing at the fleshiness of her thighs, just needing to touch her. Everywhere. This need wins out in the end.
"Pretend I wiggled my nose and a condom appeared," he tells her with a smirk, kissing the inside of her thigh one last time before rolling off the bed and onto his feet. It really doesn't take long, just a few seconds to retrieve the bloody thing from the bathroom, but it seems to take longer because he isn't touching her. Because he wants her bad enough he is having trouble thinking straight. He comes back into the room, kicking off his socks and shoes on the way back to her, attempting not to trip.
He kneels on the bed, both knees on the mattress, crawling closer to her. "Good you waited," he says, looking over her body as he undoes the buckle on his jeans, suddenly needing to be far more naked than he is now.
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"Were you worried I was going to remember there was Chinese food waiting?" she asks with a laugh, reaching up to help him with his jeans, her palm sliding against the outline of his erection and her lips part again, a shuddering sigh escaping her. He's truly gorgeous and she can't wait, she wants him so badly.
With one hand, she shoves his jeans down, pressing closer to kiss him again at the same time and she groans into his mouth, breathing hard against his lips. She wants him and there's no sense pretending she doesn't. Whatever it might mean, whatever she might be feeling, she can work that out later. Right now, she just reaches down to take him in her hand, her fingers wrapping around his cock so she can stroke him.
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He leans over to kiss her again, needing to put his mouth somewhere, and on hers seems like the best choice. He tugs her gently towards him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to get closer. He kisses her deeply, breathing hard as he uses his hands at the nape of her neck and his fingers tangle in her hair, mirroring how caught up he feels with April at the moment, consumed by her every touch, her every breath. Eventually they fall onto the bed wrapped around each other, and he's on his back now, not wanting her to stop what she's doing, not wanting to miss the view.
"Ta-da," he says in a grin, holding up the foil packet to her.
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"You look good like this," she says and there's still that faintly teasing tone in her voice, but she means it, too. He looks good like this, he looks good with her, and she doesn't know where this is going to go or what might happen, but she finds she doesn't especially hate the idea of this being more than just a one time thing. In fact, she might not admit it, but she sort of likes the idea of seeing him again.
She lifts her hips, balancing on her knees, still holding him in one hand as she braces the other against his chest. Then she's lowering herself onto his cock, guiding him into her with her hand and her lips part as another moan escapes her. "God," she breathes, keeping her eyes open, wanting to see him.
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But she has better ideas, better plans, and he watches her, biting hard divots into his bottom lip when she sinks down over him. Actually feeling like she's taking him apart, little by little. Her hand on his chest, her face when he enters her, it's a rush of heat, and he curses out silently because there's no air left in his lungs for any sound to come out. He stares up at her, sliding his hands up and down her legs and hips, resting them on her sides trying to feel everything, pressing her deeper as he lifts his body up just so. He watches her watch him, knowing she must see she's doing his head in as he pants for breath at just the feel of being inside her.
April is incredible. He isn't used to being this hard hit by someone. Never so quickly. Never. But his body responded to hers almost naturally before he could stop himself. And now that he has her, knows what she feels like, it is too late. "You can come back...over...for....Chinese anytime," he utters, releasing the air in his lungs as shifts his hips upward again, joking, but not. Not if this is how all their maybe-dates are going to go.
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"Anytime," she agrees, leaning down again because she wants to be kissing him. She wants his hands on her and she wants to feel his mouth under hers and she doesn't want to stop feeling him inside her and she knows the only way to get that is to make this last, but she can't quite force herself to be slow. There will be other chances, she realizes, and that should startle her, too, but she can't be bothered to let it. Not now. All she knows is that she doesn't want this to be the last time.
"Oh, god," she murmurs against his mouth, her hips rolling again, a steady rhythm building, pleasure prickling at her skin, everywhere she can feel his touch, everywhere his skin is touching hers.
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Her movements are slow and steady, her hips gliding back and forth against him, skin on skin, as his cock sinks into her, almost painfully from the teasing friction. It makes him lose his breath again at the contact. And hIs skin feels like it's on fire where she grips his chest, his heart beating wildly when she leans over to kiss his mouth again. He licks his lips, chasing hers with his tongue, and it's hot where their foreheads touch. Her hips roll in rhythm now, and it's a shock to every nerve inside of him, his stomach jumping, body shuddering in delight. He groans a little into their kiss, knowing it's obvious how good she is making him feel right now.
When they break away, he doesn't reach up to kiss her again as he loses his concentration. Momentarily swept away in the overwhelming sensation and closeness of being inside her. He hears the sounds of their bodies and the pants of air intermingling in soft moans and gasps, filling the room around them as she moves over him. "You. You're incredible," he tells her in a ragged dry voice, meaning it.
She leans forward again, her body and chest resting deliciously against him, and he squeezes his hands where they are touching her, moving them down to cup her ass, drawing her hips against him a little faster, a little harder because he doesn't think he is ready to wait, to draw it out, even though he would like too. He needs this, needs to feel her. His breathing picks up as his body slips in and out of her, heat pooling inside of him. His muscles tightening in pleasure at the quick cadence.
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And she's close, she can feel that in the heat low in her belly, in the way her muscles are tightening through her legs, around Les inside her and she lets out another low sound, her hand braced against the bed beside his head to give herself more leverage as she rides him. "Please," she murmurs, although she doesn't know what she's asking for. More, maybe, just more of everything, more of anything he's willing to give her and she know she's close now. She's so close and all he has to do is touch her in the right way.
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So he sits up, her thighs slipping easily around his lap. Wrapping his arms around her body, around her lower back and around shoulders, he guides their mouths together cradling the back of her head with his palm. He likes that, loves that even. She's hugged against him, body pressed so tight into his, he thinks she can probably feel his heart racing in his chest.
He would crawl inside her skin if he could because he unquestionably craves closeness, intimacy. And even if April is offering those things up temporarily, he would take them and run. He's used to that anyway. The thing about Les is, he knows what life feels like on empty, and for him, sex has always given him more, something to feel. Sure he isn't running around on fumes these days, not really, but having someone this way still feels like straight up adrenaline, a shot to the arm that shakes him completely back to life. And goddamn it, April is more than a shot. She is fireworks.
Once he has her in his arms, he just finishes hoping she's close too, the last drag of his hips and hers long and slow and complete. He finally feels like every inch of him is touching her, inside and out, and once he has that, his release is nearly immediate, nearly rips the wind out of his lungs because it hits him so hard and so quick. With his mouth on hers, his groan is muffled but satisfied. Everything is satisfied. Hell. His toes feel satisfied.
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Then he's kissing her again and she's moaning into his mouth, her fingers tightening on his shoulders as she comes, her orgasm rocking through her. Her legs tighten, the muscles around Les tighten as she arches her entire body against his, gasping for air, her heart pounding heavily in her chest and she can't remember the last time she's done anything like this. That makes it better somehow, it's better knowing she's not getting anything out of this except this moment. Whatever comes next, whatever follows, whatever happens between them, she isn't looking for him to do anything for her in return. It isn't about information, it isn't about control. It's about feeling good.
And he's made her feel amazing. "Oh, god," she breathes, still riding the waves of pleasure washing over her. Her hands relax on his shoulders, smoothing down his back before she kisses him again, hard and deep, enjoying the feeling of him still inside her as she slowly rolls her hips, settling down into his lap. "Jesus, Les."
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He lets his lips fall away from her mouth after she kisses him again, her hands gliding down his back, his chest still heaving for air, slowly recovering in her arms. She is sitting perched on his lap, and he isn't ready to pull away yet. Instead he tucks his head under her chin, dropping light, lazy kisses under her jaw and on her neck. "God yes, for me too," he mutters back at her, even laughs a little, because it felt obvious to say. They had just been awesome together. "All tingly, I'm telling you."
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"Yeah, you know, I might go with tingly, too," she agrees with another soft laugh, tilting her head to give him better access to her throat. Even now, coming down from her orgasm, the feel of his lips against her skin is nice and she pushes gently on his chest, wanting to stretch out on the bed again, wanting to feel him under her. The thought of heading back out into his kitchen and finishing the dinner or, better yet, just bringing the leftovers to bed is actually kind of appealing, too, and she doesn't know why she wants to stay this time, just that she does. "That was a lot of fun. We're awfully good at that."
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Not when they could do this. Not when he could wrap his arms around her, which he does to pull her half on top of him, their legs entangling. Then he puts his hands under his head, grinning up at her. "I still think that orange chicken would've been good too," he says.
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"Leftovers always taste better in bed," she adds with a grin, moving up his body to press another kiss to his mouth and she likes that, too. Every moment that passes by, she discovers something else she likes and she doesn't know what to do about it or if she needs to do anything at all. Maybe she can just let herself like something for once. Maybe it doesn't hav to mean everything changes.
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It doesn't hurt that she's telling him that leftovers are always better in bed, and since he is completely okay with her staying, he takes her suggestion as an opening. He uses his magic to call all the bags and containers of chinese food they had left on the counter, calls them over to the bed with a snap of his fingers, and they appear, well, like magic. He even remembers the forks. "Ta-da," he says, waving his hands at the spread laid out beside them.
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"That's a pretty useful ability you have there," she says and although she's still smiling, there's still a bit of a teasing tone to her voice, she's speaking softly and she doesn't quite know why. She drags one finger down the centre of his chest, smoothing over warm skin, over the line of his ribs, then down toward the edge of his hip. "I might have to keep you around just for that."
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