milliways_bar | (no subject)

Faintly, "You're in me," because it's the strangest and most amazing thing yet, and Lucy lets her eyes close, getting used to the new feel. A litte sore. A little strange. But nice, too.

And it's a little bit of a twinge when he shifts, but all she wants is to pull him closer, even though she doesn't know how to do that any more than he is.

This doesn't stop her from trying.

"God, Lucy," he says, shakily, almost a groan, because that's all he can get out, shaking as he is, taking deep breaths.

And moves, carefully.

He wonders how he could have thought she was close enough when she was merely sitting next to him before, or when they were lying together, because he wants to be closer still.

So he moves, slowly, lifting his head with an effort from her shoulder to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes dark.

Closer.

"Oh," more breath than word, staring at him, one hand clutching at his neck.

It's very slow when she presses her hips up against his, eyes wide and unblinking still. And each movement still feels odd, but she's having a very hard time focusing on that when it feels so many other things, too.

His eyes slide closed, and his breath comes ragged in his chest.

He's not sure he'll ever be able to let her go.

"Is this--" his voice is rough and low and shaking, "is it all--all right? Are you--"

He trails off. Impossible to speak when he's feeling so many things. Impossible to tell what he's feeling, except want and need and good.

"Sore," softly against his skin. "M'fine. I'm--really all right," voice breaking. "You?"

He takes a breath, concentrates.

"Sorry--I know it--it hurts, at first. Try to relax."

He's trying to be careful. To be gentle.

But it's getting more and more difficult.

"Trying to go slow." A shaky, breathy laugh. "You feel--you're amazing."

And then he can't speak, because he's concentrating on moving and keeping it slow and waves of heat are sliding up his back.

Warm tendrils spread up to her stomach and down her legs, and she just nods and closes her eyes, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, and trying to do what he'd said.

Which is really hard, because each time he moves her breath catches, but her arms start to untense after a few moments anyway, and when her eyes open she just looks at him and kisses him again between groans.

"Lucy," he says, and the look in her eyes sends sparks shooting down his spine. His kisses are growing rougher, shakier, and his hand slides up from her hip to move over dip of stomach and swell of ribcage and breast, warm over soft skin.

Her arms are loosening around his neck, and that's good that she's relaxing, so now it is almost a dance.

"Oh, God," is her reply, feeling dizzy as she says it, and the kiss he gets now is a little desperate as her hand goes down his spine, resting at the base.

She's forgotten to be scared, and smiles a little, shakily, when she lifts her mouth to force a breath.

He smiles back, and then realizes that he can't look at her because if he does he's going to come undone and so he drops his head to kiss along her neck, her ear, the soft skin under the line of her jaw, and wraps his free arm around her with his hand sliding under her shoulderblade, pressed flush up against her, as close as he can get while still remaining two separate people.

It's hard to remember to be careful, and slow, when Lucy has just been looking at him like that. And it feels too good to not want more.

"Love you," before pressing her mouth against his shoulder more because she doesn't even know what kind of noise she wants to make anymore than a kiss, though that's there too.

It's slow, and careful, and Lucy can't imagine how it can get better after this.

"Love you," he says, in a ragged whisper. "Lucy, I want--"

But he doesn't have to say what it is. He can show her, the way he promised to.

She's relaxing in his arms, and so he goes closer, deeper, loves her. Loves how when he moves, her arms tighten around him, the sounds she bites back. Gives and takes and gives back again, his hand warm over her skin.

There's a strangled noise in her throat and her face moves so she can kiss his ear, his neck, around and up to his mouth.

It's not like anything she thought, not really, and she wonders if she can just hold him forever and never let go as she presses her hips up harder and kisses him again.

Lucy doesn't think she's ever going to be capable of actual words again.

More, he thinks, and then he stops thinking altogther and just moves, and he if says anything at all it comes out as a breath and please, and a groan.

Her mouth is hot on his skin and he turns his head to kiss her, harder, almost pulling her up as his arm curls under her and his hand slides up behind her shoulder, his palm warm, holding her tightly.

She feels like she's burning and building and it's all so right as she kisses him back, just as hard and just gasps when her mouth is free, one of her legs wrapping around one of his.

She thinks he was right when he said it was one of the best feelings in the world, and thinks it wouldn't be nearly as nice if it was anyone else here with her but him, and then stops thinking entirely and just moves against him and with him.

Caspian's thoughts are starting to shatter, now, and shakes when her legs wraps around him, and marvels out how strong she is, pushing against him when he's holding her so tightly

this is how

and everything else is starting to fracture, a little bit, the edges of his vision foggy.

I love you

Her head falls back and he moves his mouth over her throat, tasting the salty sweetness of skin.

It feels nice. Because it's how it's supposed to feel. And it's good, and she wishes they'd done this before, and wishes it wouldn't stop, too.

Her hand's at his neck, just holding, because it's the most she can manage, and it's perfect and warm and she gives a soft cry against his hair, and even if someone else might be able to hear she wouldn't care.

He would tell her, if he could, that it's all right that they waited. Because this is perfect, now, and then the sound she makes sends sparks down his skin and he kisses her, hard, knowing he's on the edge and wanting it all to last forever.

And he still thinks she tastes better than any wine, any water.

Shaking, his hand slides down her side to her hip, lifting her slightly, and his movements aren't so smooth anymore, not so gentle, because it's getting harder and harder to hold back.

And it's okay that it's not gentle, too, like it was okay when it was. Still good.

"Please," a little choked as she kisses him once, twice, three times, still moving, still wishing she could get closer, and she presses her forehead up against his.

His kisses have the edge of desperation to them now, rougher, and his other arm comes up to wrap around her, his hands flat against her shoulderblades and he pulls her up and pushes himself down and still feels like he wants to be closer.

More.

They're moving together, and breath comes ragged, and eyes goes dark. Her hair is a spill of gold over the covers and she's everything he's ever wanted. And more.

She twists the second leg like the first, around him, and she's shaking again. Or still, which might be more likely. And she's desperately glad, suddenly, that she did live a life without this, because that means it's with him, and it couldn't feel nearly as nice with anyone else. Not by half.

And she really can't speak now, but the most coherent thing in her mind is just, Love, with more and closer very close behind.

Caspian did not lead a chaste life. He married, and had a son, after all.

But this...

He never felt, before, like this--like he wants to melt into her and that even skin to skin and wrapped around each other and tangles of legs and arms and movement like waves is not enough.

But it's close.

More, and faster, now, and he can't tell if the heart skidding crazily against his chest is his or hers, and if the breath he takes, shuddering, his from her mouth or his. It doesn't matter.

"God, Lucy," comes rough from deep in his throat without his even knowing he'd said it at all, and he drops his head to taste the pulse fluttering in her throat, searching for the sensitive spots that make her arms clench around him, feeling her on the edge even as lights flash slowly on the inside of his eyelids.

The cry she gives is louder than before, and half his name and half nothing coherent at all, and she feels like her whole body's gone tight, like a rubber band stretched as far as it can. And then it's like it snaps, and she really can't breathe as she holds him as tightly as possible and shakes.

Never never never knew.

Her voice crying out sends sparks flying down his back and over his skin and everything tightens and the world

goes white and

fractures.

And then he holds her, trembling, his breath coming shuddering agains ther neck before he has the energy to raise his head and press a shaky kiss to her mouth, and tries a smile.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. And finally she does, slowly, and tries to do the same back, still holding him close.

And it's a very long moment before she breathes, "Th--thank you," voice shaking, and just looks up at him.