milliways_bar | (no subject)

She poked it, grinning. "Is that a good thing, that I've made your jaw hang open?"

"Uh huh," Danny fairly squeaked.

Then he pretty much zeroed in on her chest, lifting his hand slightly.

"Can I...?"

"Yeah."

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap...

He reached up and cupped her breast in his hand. Her bra was black (big surprise) and soaked like the rest of her, and HOLY CRAP HE WAS TOUCHING A BOOB.

Bliss!

Sam was watching his face with quite a deal of amusement.

"You know," she said, "that they're just milk-secreting glandular organs."

"Way to make it gross, Sam," he said, nevertheless still fondling. Through her bra, he brushed against her nipple with his thumb, lightly, and his either hand was still rubbing against her side.

His jeans were starting to feel a little too tight.

"Mmmhmmm," she murmured, and closed her eyes, then kissed him, fingers flexing over his shoulders.

"You know... we're eventually going to have to go inside. I told Steph I'd meet her later... mmmmm."

She tensed when he touched her, and then there was more kissing.

Goosebumps raised up all over his skin, just looking at her like that.

"Nooo," Danny whined plaintively. Then he said, even more quietly, almost a whisper, a gasp, "Stay out here with me."

She grinned and kissed him again, softly, apologetically. "Seriously." She looked at her watch. "It's like... seven."

She bent down over him and traced his lips with a fingernail. "We can always experiment... you know... at home."

Danny made another whining sound.

She checked her watch.

And looked at him.

Then grinned.

"I guess Steph will forgive me."

Danny smiled at her, a warm smile, just for her.

Her heart sort of stopped a minute, looking at him smile like that, and it got hard to breathe awfully quick.

"You... should smile like that more often," she managed.

"Then you should let me do this more often," he said, and he squeezed her boob gently.

Honk honk!

Sam burst out laughing.

She hardly ever did this -- laugh. Straight, pure laughter. Complete with smile and glittering eyes. It was a contrast.

"You dork."

Danny just grinned at her, and then that sort of fuzzy-happy look stole over his eyes and he pulled her close to him by the waist and kept kissing her, trying to get the hang of that whole tongue thing.

Draingly, his fingers slid up her back towards the clasp of her bra...

Which was...

DARNIT.

...Made of adamantium or something, apparently.

Here was a teenage boy who could use and maintain his parents complex ghost technology, but a simple bra clasp was far beyond him.

Sam giggled into his mouth and pulled back enough to unhook it within a second by just reaching behind her and pulling it apart gently. Within a second.

He could only look at her in admiration and awe.

"You make it out to be a complex puzzle. It's a bra clasp."

Danny just gaped.

Shitless girl! Shiiirtless girl!

His thoughts started to lose coherency, dwindling down to nothing more than random flitting ideas and not-so-fleeting urges.

Best friend. Shirtless. Hot. Likes me. She likes me. She's...beautiful.

Feel like...like a hero. She makes me feel like...not a loser. Not a dork. Not...

It was with a strangled groan that he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing everything he could reach.

It was likely that by now Sam could feel just how excited he was to be able to do this.

"Wow," Sam said -- well, gasped, grinning. "You're excited, ghost boy."

Danny could only gasp in answer, one hand still wrapped around her waist, the other sliding in between then and awkwardly cupping her breast.

His eyes were closed, and he looked positively blissful, as his back arched slightly underneath her, his muscles wonderfully tense.

She tensed her fingers over his shoulder. Tense, untense. Tense, untense.

Sam was quiet and deadly. Danny... not so much.

Now he was lost, turned into a soggy, writhing human (half) puddle of lust and teenage hormones, his hips unonciously bucking slightly underneath her.

"Oh, Sam..."

"Hmm?" She kissed, a bit tentatively, the place where his neck met his shoulder.