[ Every ounce of attention Cloud pays her is measured carefully and diligently doled out. His hands are calloused, rough where his skin has been worn during swordplay and hard work. They drag along her skin, white hot, leaving a fire in their wake. Her mind is racing, and her body is playing catch up; Aerith wears her smile like like a hook might wear bait. Eager, playful, tantalizing— she wants him, just like he said.
Her skin is night air kissed, dress cast aside like an afterthought. Her apartment must look like a tornado blew through it, tore it apart and wrapped her up just to leave them be. She huffs out a laugh, just one beat of it through the nose and dressed up with a warm smile. From there, he busies himself with undoing her bra: it, too, is plain, and does not match her other undergarments. He's working her still covered breast in his hand, just the one, and Aerith opens her mouth to speak, voice teasing. ]
Do you know how to do that?
[ When it comes undone, she stands corrected.
Like this, almost every inch of her is exposed, bared for him to explore at his leisure. She likes that, thinks it could drive him a little crazy in some way, and delights in the thought. She always enjoyed playing around. When his hand falls to palm against her underwear, he'll feel the cool slickness that's been stewing since their first kiss on the dance floor. It feels like a lifetime ago, now. In return, she closes her eyes and inhales deep to enjoy the sensation, tilting her head back, braid dipping longer yet. Cloud interrupts. ]
What, can't take me here? [ Perhaps a little overeager in her own way, Aerith laughs. Fair enough, she thinks, and tugs on his hand, to pull him. She walks backwards, keeping going until she feels the sheets under her heel. A futon is hardly the kind of bed she's used to, but she knows where she unrolls it nightly; she finds it in the dark easily. There, it's just a matter of laying down, knees together, one arm up so that the hand rests near her head. Like this, he has the full view. A girlish sense of shyness fills Aerith, and it shows on her face in a ruddy flush, but she merely continues smiling. ]
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Her skin is night air kissed, dress cast aside like an afterthought. Her apartment must look like a tornado blew through it, tore it apart and wrapped her up just to leave them be. She huffs out a laugh, just one beat of it through the nose and dressed up with a warm smile. From there, he busies himself with undoing her bra: it, too, is plain, and does not match her other undergarments. He's working her still covered breast in his hand, just the one, and Aerith opens her mouth to speak, voice teasing. ]
Do you know how to do that?
[ When it comes undone, she stands corrected.
Like this, almost every inch of her is exposed, bared for him to explore at his leisure. She likes that, thinks it could drive him a little crazy in some way, and delights in the thought. She always enjoyed playing around. When his hand falls to palm against her underwear, he'll feel the cool slickness that's been stewing since their first kiss on the dance floor. It feels like a lifetime ago, now. In return, she closes her eyes and inhales deep to enjoy the sensation, tilting her head back, braid dipping longer yet. Cloud interrupts. ]
What, can't take me here? [ Perhaps a little overeager in her own way, Aerith laughs. Fair enough, she thinks, and tugs on his hand, to pull him. She walks backwards, keeping going until she feels the sheets under her heel. A futon is hardly the kind of bed she's used to, but she knows where she unrolls it nightly; she finds it in the dark easily. There, it's just a matter of laying down, knees together, one arm up so that the hand rests near her head. Like this, he has the full view. A girlish sense of shyness fills Aerith, and it shows on her face in a ruddy flush, but she merely continues smiling. ]
Think it'll be worth the wait?