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eudaimon who wanted Luke and Walker, blue jeans and rescue
The rest of Luke and Walker's story can be found here.
There's nothing like getting all hot and heavy and then falling off the bed to ruin a good seduction scene. Not that Luke needs that much in the way of seduction exactly, but still, sliding off the far side of the bed while trying to wriggle out of your tight blue jeans at the same time as he's biting at your nipple and taking of his t-shirt isn't good. Not that that stops you from giggling with near hysteria – not enough blood to your brain or something, because it seems like the silliest thing ever when you see your lover's head, upside down, poke over the side of the bed.
"You ok?"
You nod frantically, because you are, all loose limbed and your blood bubbling with Champaign a tiny little fall like that doesn't hurt, but the more you move, tying to get a grip on something in the narrow gap between bed and wall so you can get up, the more trapped you are with your belt around your knees and your trunks half off. Luke's smiling too, so it's not all bad. Although you can't quite get a hand free to reach out and touch the laughter lines, and that's wrong.
"Want a hand?"
You pretend to think about it, and Luke's hands find your ribs, skinning along them with threats of tickling.
"Cos, you know, you can stay there if you want – I'm sure I can take care of myself if need be."
And your memory flashes on Luke spread out like a million dollars on the hotel bed that afternoon, arching up into his own hand and waiting on your word to come. You whimper until you can find the words for 'no way'.
"So you do want rescuing then? Well – stop wriggling, and come here."
Luke's body is solid above yours, warm and tan and the strength when he wraps an arm around you and braces one leg and hauls you back into the brighter light and on to the satin bedspread makes you bite your lip. You wriggle closer, determined to pick up where gravity had interrupted, your thumb in his mouth and your teeth scraping against his shoulder and your hard on rubbing against his hip and his against your thigh, and you're both still laughing when one of his hands grabs your hipbone and he holds you still for a second to keep himself from coming.
eudaimon who wanted Luke and Walker, blue jeans and rescueThe rest of Luke and Walker's story can be found here.
There's nothing like getting all hot and heavy and then falling off the bed to ruin a good seduction scene. Not that Luke needs that much in the way of seduction exactly, but still, sliding off the far side of the bed while trying to wriggle out of your tight blue jeans at the same time as he's biting at your nipple and taking of his t-shirt isn't good. Not that that stops you from giggling with near hysteria – not enough blood to your brain or something, because it seems like the silliest thing ever when you see your lover's head, upside down, poke over the side of the bed.
"You ok?"
You nod frantically, because you are, all loose limbed and your blood bubbling with Champaign a tiny little fall like that doesn't hurt, but the more you move, tying to get a grip on something in the narrow gap between bed and wall so you can get up, the more trapped you are with your belt around your knees and your trunks half off. Luke's smiling too, so it's not all bad. Although you can't quite get a hand free to reach out and touch the laughter lines, and that's wrong.
"Want a hand?"
You pretend to think about it, and Luke's hands find your ribs, skinning along them with threats of tickling.
"Cos, you know, you can stay there if you want – I'm sure I can take care of myself if need be."
And your memory flashes on Luke spread out like a million dollars on the hotel bed that afternoon, arching up into his own hand and waiting on your word to come. You whimper until you can find the words for 'no way'.
"So you do want rescuing then? Well – stop wriggling, and come here."
Luke's body is solid above yours, warm and tan and the strength when he wraps an arm around you and braces one leg and hauls you back into the brighter light and on to the satin bedspread makes you bite your lip. You wriggle closer, determined to pick up where gravity had interrupted, your thumb in his mouth and your teeth scraping against his shoulder and your hard on rubbing against his hip and his against your thigh, and you're both still laughing when one of his hands grabs your hipbone and he holds you still for a second to keep himself from coming.