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[guinegreer]

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G.GALLOWAY

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[hymen]

[ her palm cracks across his cheek before he can get anywhere near the wet heat of her cunt, and where she might've expected a growl of anger or an absurd display of machismo, the sound that shudders out of his throat is far from either of those things, breathless and keening. a wet spot begins to darken the front of his trousers where his cock stubbornly weeps for attention and fails to get it. a quiet fuck drops from his lips, his lashes fluttering as he seeks her gaze.

and she looks horrified, as if she's accidentally stepped on her puppy's tail. it dimly occurs to him that the things he and ash do in the bedroom might take a little getting used to. ]

Come here, princess. [ his face is flushed, and it's not just from where she slapped him, color creeping down his throat where the pace of his breath has quickened. ] It didn't hurt. Well, it did. But I liked it.

[ he tries to clear the fog of lust from his brain, thinking of what ash would do. no, that's no good. he and ash don't follow any rules. instead, he thinks of what he knows from his visits to lyonesse. ]

I'll give you a safe word, so you know how far you can go with me. [ he's never hit a limit he couldn't cross, although he's distantly aware that doesn't always mean he should have crossed them. the corner of his mouth curves up in a smile. ] Steinbeck. The first thing we ever argued about.

[ his throat bobs in a swallow, his entire body straining toward her, his hips trying to flex into nothing to relieve some of the building tension. she's careful this time to stay out of reach, and he's seriously considering the merits of dragging himself across the floor just to be able to kiss her sharply heeled foot. ]

Hurt me again. [ his breath grows ragged. ] Fuck, Greer, please just fucking touch me.

[guinegreer]

[ That plaintive keen — she's never heard anything like that from Embry before. She knows other sounds, though, could replay them in her mind with very little difficulty at all. The noise he makes when he slips a hand between her legs and she's already embarrassingly wet, like something between a groan and a sigh. The breath he takes when his cock is making a home for itself in her cunt, as if he can't believe he's even allowed to get close enough to fuck her. The hurts they've inflicted on each other live beneath the skin, closer to the kind that can invisibly puncture the heart, but she's never struck him before, never even really considered it until the sight of him on his knees conjured that reflex.

When Greer reaches for him again, it's gentler, mostly so she can bring a still-shaking hand to touch the place where she slapped him, feeling where the skin's a bit hotter now. She hasn't hit him hard enough to leave a defined mark, nor the outline of each individual finger, but she wonders what she'd be feeling now if she had. ]

A safeword. [ She exhales in the form of a chuckle — with how new all of this is, she'd forgotten to even consider the need for one, but he's guiding her even from his knees, and in gratitude, or maybe even a reward, she slips her arms around him, briefly hugging him to her middle, fingers of one hand carding through his hair until her nails can rake over his scalp.

And then he begs her, the please on his lips like a vice around her heart, and her grip in his hair tightens, as she uses it to yank his head back more roughly, to return his gaze to hers. ]

Steinbeck, then. If it's too much. [ Her eyes drift down to verify the tent in his slacks, the visible spot of wet where he's leaked through them. ] But I don't think we're anywhere near "too much" yet.

[ She backs away quickly, before he can pitch toward her again, resuming her original spot on the bench, her knees slowly spreading wide. When her hand moves, it isn't to resume efforts on her blouse buttons again, but to stray between her thighs, up under her skirt, ghosting over damp lace. ]

Make me come without touching me, and I'll let you fuck me anywhere you want after.