Captain Katherine Douglas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
can_finish_them) wrote2013-10-04 11:50 pm
can_finish_them) wrote2013-10-04 11:50 pm
Entry tags:
Outside Milliways
It's a nice day outside, sunny and still but not too warm, and Kaidy has had a long and busy (though not entirely unproductive) week, so she's doing something she always finds calming: she has targets set up on the lawn outside the bar and is practising with her handgun.
She's not a bad shot but it doesn't come naturally to her, which means she has to concentrate. It used to frustrate her that not everything came easily, but these days - now that she's got the knack - she actually quite enjoys having to concentrate on something in order to get it right. It's an opportunity not to think, and the mechanical repetition - load, lift, aim, pause, fire - is oddly soothing.
So she's smiling to herself faintly, as the bullets march closer and closer to the bullseye.
She's not a bad shot but it doesn't come naturally to her, which means she has to concentrate. It used to frustrate her that not everything came easily, but these days - now that she's got the knack - she actually quite enjoys having to concentrate on something in order to get it right. It's an opportunity not to think, and the mechanical repetition - load, lift, aim, pause, fire - is oddly soothing.
So she's smiling to herself faintly, as the bullets march closer and closer to the bullseye.
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He leans and there is Kaidy's taste-smell in his mouth as the kiss deepens and her hands seem to be everywhere, sliding hot and fierce over his skin and he's not entirely sure how.
Her voice curls in his ears and his chest and it's beautiful and she's beautiful and wonderful. He clings on for dear life, pressing kiss after kiss against her lips, her cheeks, and he's pretty sure he kissed her eyebrow at one point, but it doesn't matter because it's Kaidy, and right now he'd really like to kiss her all over, eyebrows included.
He draws back for a second, breath shaking and looks at her, and he's pretty sure now is the right time for some statement or declaration, but he's equally sure that anything he says right now is going to be unintelligible gibberish because he's not entirely thinking with his brain. So instead he just looks, taking in how lucky he is, smiles, and presses back in for another kiss...
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And she says yes, yes, yes and calls his name and calls him Red and calls him amazing, fingers skittering over his skin right down to his hips as she presses more kisses (and occasional very light nips) to his lips and chin and jaw.
Finally, though, she stops kissing his face -- but only so that she can kiss down his neck instead, nuzzling and kissing into the crook of his neck, kissing right into the arc where it meets his shoulder.
"You know," she remarks breathlessly, looking up at him between kisses, "I was - mmm - thinking, I might shower. At - yes, there - some point."
(Her thumb finds his nipple, tracing circles around it with just a hint of the edge of her nail.)
"Coming with me?"
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She calls him Red and he's convinced that she means his skin. He can feel the heat fizzing below the surface, and he's sure he's lobster-red all over, but he doesn't care. One hand strokes gently across the softness of her stomach, curves around the rise of her hip and settles, fingertips just skimming the place where he knows there are words inked into her. He rather hopes to get a chance to find out what they say.
He recognises the word shower, but then she scrapes a circle around his nipple and fuck that sparks inside him, static lightning jumping between two points, and he sucks in a shock of air and loses the thread of her voice. He bites down hard on any noise that threatens to squeak out of him, and also on his bottom lip. The noise still escapes, curling through his treacherous throat. His lip isn't so lucky. His fingers squeeze at her hip, grip clenching for a moment, nails scraping across skin.
He ducks his head and presses his forehead against her shoulder. He gathers himself for a second before he attempts to speak.
"Shower?" He asks, grasping hold of the last intelligible word left in his brain.
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When his forehead dips onto her shoulder she pulls herself together enough to stroke his hair, fingers tracing down his neck as she kisses the top of his head and murmurs his name again.
And then she sees his bitten lip (she's going to make him make a lot more noise than that, one way or another) and oh, hell, she wants him, and the way she kisses him shows it.
"You, me, shower," she repeats, planting more pressing, hard little kisses to that bitten bottom lip in between every word. "Or here; but I want you now."
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He tries to keep up with the hard kisses that are almost bites to his lips, but can't help having to gasp for air, it's as overwhelming as it is fantastic.
Martin's too busy to think, which is probably a good thing.
He leans into a kiss, pressing hard and trails it from frantic scrambling to an easy caress of lips. He draws back, breathing heavily.
"Yes." He nods. "Um. Shower, yes. Right." He kisses her again quickly, a graze of lips, just to show himself he still can. "I-" He's not really great with words right now. Sentences are entirely beyond him.
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Honestly, right now she barely even cares if they get to the shower, so long as she gets him; it seemed like a good idea at the time but has been over-ridden by all those ridiculous, wonderful kisses.
"God," she says; her lips cling to his, just far enough apart to breathe, close enough that she can still almost taste him, still wants to taste him. "You have the most amazing mouth, I can't - mmm, yes -"
They need to move but she doesn't want to move away from him; finally she slides backwards off the bed, carefully pulling him along with her.
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He can't help that he reacts to the 'Sir', it's built in. He can't help the flash of it across his brain, the hitch in his breath, or the slight reflex tightening of his grip for a second. He's not sure how noticeable it might be, but he's sort of stuck.
She kisses him again and he's drowning in them, drowning too in her words, spilling out of her lips to fall straight into his. So many in such a short time, he hardly has time to breath, no wonder he's gasping all over the place. Or something.
She tugs him by the hand and he follows off the bed, definitely not tripping over bedsheets at all, and he certainly isn't having issues walking. Difficulty or not, right now he'd follow her just about anywhere she wanted to lead him.
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She takes one, two, three slow steps backwards towards the door, drawing him unsteadily with her. She has to pause to grope behind herself for the door handle; his hips bump against hers just so, and the nerve endings it sparks off make her hiss and swear and cling to him.
"Oh, God," she breathes, and laughs, and kisses him hard. "Told you I love short men."
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In an almost unprecedented moment of smoothness, Martin manages to kick the door shut behind them. He doesn't bother letting go of Kaidy for long enough to actually lock it, but he's a little too preoccupied to care.
[OOC: Aaaand fade to black.]