Uh huh. [ he doesn't believe her — and it's quite obvious in his tone. he does think of taking his time, merely perching himself at the edge of his bed to see how patient the ever so impatient clarisse la rue is. is she as sharp as she is on the battlefield? he thinks so, having expected someone soft and pliable to wait for him in his bed. he wonders if she'd give him a show, spread her legs further apart, reveal even more of herself to him if he had kept her waiting and had any sort of control over his own impatience. if he did, he knows he couldn't simply stand there, still as a statue and just as unmoving; luke's no stranger to his own hand, but he'd much prefer clarisse's. her fingers are such powerful weapons, after all. she'd used them to pull him into her little vicious web with the way she'd pulled at his shirt on her lithe body. it'd been her to unbutton his shirt, not him, in a bid to bare herself to him in a way that he thinks should've won her the battle. ]
[ luke crawls up the bed at the pace of a snail, his eyes on hers, smile still pressed against his face. when he reaches where her toes are, luke thinks to simply climb over her and straddle her, to press himself against her and grind himself into her, but his arm comes out to reach for her leg, sliding his palm from the back of her ankle right up to where her knee bends. his other hand remains pressed hard against the bed between her legs. he shifts with the gradual sliding of his hand, shuffling on the bed, pressing to settle himself not quite at the vertex of her legs. and he finds himself bending, arm pulling her leg up and over his shoulder as he nuzzles his nose into the soft, meaty flesh of her inner thigh. ]
[ he stretches out gradually, back arched as he moves his way from the bend of her knee and up further until his nose brushes the line of her underwear. he ensures to keep it there, brushing, but not quite pushing, in a teasing touch like that of the fluttering butterflies that press hard and wild against his lower abdomen. it'd be so easy to have her come undone with just his mouth — the one thing she seemed to loathe back when they were two people pressed against the world, where riling her up was the best way to get off — but he thinks of her earlier request — demand — and opens his mouth wide against the skin, sucking it in, clamping his teeth gentle down on it, and letting it pop from his mouth before he soothes it over with his tongue and begins it all over again. ]
no subject
[ luke crawls up the bed at the pace of a snail, his eyes on hers, smile still pressed against his face. when he reaches where her toes are, luke thinks to simply climb over her and straddle her, to press himself against her and grind himself into her, but his arm comes out to reach for her leg, sliding his palm from the back of her ankle right up to where her knee bends. his other hand remains pressed hard against the bed between her legs. he shifts with the gradual sliding of his hand, shuffling on the bed, pressing to settle himself not quite at the vertex of her legs. and he finds himself bending, arm pulling her leg up and over his shoulder as he nuzzles his nose into the soft, meaty flesh of her inner thigh. ]
[ he stretches out gradually, back arched as he moves his way from the bend of her knee and up further until his nose brushes the line of her underwear. he ensures to keep it there, brushing, but not quite pushing, in a teasing touch like that of the fluttering butterflies that press hard and wild against his lower abdomen. it'd be so easy to have her come undone with just his mouth — the one thing she seemed to loathe back when they were two people pressed against the world, where riling her up was the best way to get off — but he thinks of her earlier request — demand — and opens his mouth wide against the skin, sucking it in, clamping his teeth gentle down on it, and letting it pop from his mouth before he soothes it over with his tongue and begins it all over again. ]