Yeah, don’t wait. [shauna clings to the huffy snippiness, because saber’s crawling over to her, and she’s been sleeping cuddled up to jackie’s warmth and sweet-smelling skin and it’s been fucking torture, nothing has changed, she still spends every damn sleepover caught between guilt and lust. she doesn’t know how to have the latter without the former, anymore – it doesn’t get her off unless she’s a little ashamed of it, unless it makes that hot blushing heat crawl up her back like she’s gotten caught in a lie.
saber touches her body like he knows it, and shauna arches her back, sticks her tits out, hollows her stomach, spreads her thighs. like a girl in a dirty magazine, like a fantasy, which lasts until he works his knuckle over where she’s soaking wet and her head drops back and her breath hitches, because god the only one who knew how to touch her like that was mel. blonde, needy, eager melissa, kneeling like this, too clumsy and wanting to have saber’s practiced finesse, the makeshift stick walls between them and the camp doing nothing to dampen the sounds shauna makes when mel’s between her thighs.
the sharper pinch gets a jerk of shauna’s hips, shirt riding up over her stomach, chest rising into saber’s hand, and he can definitely feel that she’s wetter now, that the tiny spark of pain is exactly what she craves. there’s a hollow hunger in her dark eyes as she shifts one bare leg, nudges his hip with her knee, both hands curling into the blankets.]
Harder. [she wants worse than that, wants his teeth instead, wants him to leave a mark, leave more than one, prove that she’s still alive and he’s alive and they’re alive together. shauna’s blood rushes beneath her skin, and she repeats it, propping herself up on one elbow to tug off her shirt, bare her chest, bluish veins beneath pale skin, the too-hollow line of her collarbone, her ribs, her hipbones, but she doesn’t even think to stop and feel embarrassed:] Harder. Don’t be sweet. Don’t be soft. And for fuck’s sake don’t be gentle.
no subject
saber touches her body like he knows it, and shauna arches her back, sticks her tits out, hollows her stomach, spreads her thighs. like a girl in a dirty magazine, like a fantasy, which lasts until he works his knuckle over where she’s soaking wet and her head drops back and her breath hitches, because god the only one who knew how to touch her like that was mel. blonde, needy, eager melissa, kneeling like this, too clumsy and wanting to have saber’s practiced finesse, the makeshift stick walls between them and the camp doing nothing to dampen the sounds shauna makes when mel’s between her thighs.
the sharper pinch gets a jerk of shauna’s hips, shirt riding up over her stomach, chest rising into saber’s hand, and he can definitely feel that she’s wetter now, that the tiny spark of pain is exactly what she craves. there’s a hollow hunger in her dark eyes as she shifts one bare leg, nudges his hip with her knee, both hands curling into the blankets.]
Harder. [she wants worse than that, wants his teeth instead, wants him to leave a mark, leave more than one, prove that she’s still alive and he’s alive and they’re alive together. shauna’s blood rushes beneath her skin, and she repeats it, propping herself up on one elbow to tug off her shirt, bare her chest, bluish veins beneath pale skin, the too-hollow line of her collarbone, her ribs, her hipbones, but she doesn’t even think to stop and feel embarrassed:] Harder. Don’t be sweet. Don’t be soft. And for fuck’s sake don’t be gentle.