[ Look, she's being practical. The cot is compact but adequate for resting, but for fucking? Someone is bound to tip over the edge of it and split their skull open. Not hot, definitely not a kink she wants to engage in.
Being hoisted about like she weighs nothing is going to take some acclimating. To some degree, the loss of control over her own limbs is frightening in how it forces her to rely strictly on him to support her, but she trusts him. She trusts him inexplicably, she realizes with an awareness that strikes her like a blow to the head. The revelation dawns on her as his shadow eclipses her from above, hovering over her and bathed in firelight.
He looks ethereal, surreal, in their surroundings — as if she's dreamed him into her memories. When her fingers smooth along his shoulder and follow the line to his shoulder, it's to remind herself that he's real rather than an intangible projection of the Force that's come to keep her company. ]
Don't be surprised by how badly I want you.
[ The words whisper out of her, but they aren't lacking in conviction. How could she not want him that desperately? But those are only words; actions speak louder, and she means for hers to relay his desirability, to reveal the depths to which she wants him. ]
Here. [ She watches him closely, eyes trained unflinchingly on his, and reaches for the hem of her shirt to slowly inch it upward. Her nipples pebble in the chill of the room, stiffer still from her arousal, but she ignores their demand for attention and glides her hand across her sternum and to the front of her pants. With some shifting, those similarly find their way across the room to leave her bare. It's an intentional move on her part to be so vulnerable while he remains clothed and armored, and a display of trust to provide comfort. ] You can touch me however you want.
[ Here, he has control. Here, he has the freedom of choice. Her arms stretch above her, lengthening her torso, to offer herself up like a sacrifice to both his gaze and his touch. ]
WAIT WHAT DID I DO
Being hoisted about like she weighs nothing is going to take some acclimating. To some degree, the loss of control over her own limbs is frightening in how it forces her to rely strictly on him to support her, but she trusts him. She trusts him inexplicably, she realizes with an awareness that strikes her like a blow to the head. The revelation dawns on her as his shadow eclipses her from above, hovering over her and bathed in firelight.
He looks ethereal, surreal, in their surroundings — as if she's dreamed him into her memories. When her fingers smooth along his shoulder and follow the line to his shoulder, it's to remind herself that he's real rather than an intangible projection of the Force that's come to keep her company. ]
Don't be surprised by how badly I want you.
[ The words whisper out of her, but they aren't lacking in conviction. How could she not want him that desperately? But those are only words; actions speak louder, and she means for hers to relay his desirability, to reveal the depths to which she wants him. ]
Here. [ She watches him closely, eyes trained unflinchingly on his, and reaches for the hem of her shirt to slowly inch it upward. Her nipples pebble in the chill of the room, stiffer still from her arousal, but she ignores their demand for attention and glides her hand across her sternum and to the front of her pants. With some shifting, those similarly find their way across the room to leave her bare. It's an intentional move on her part to be so vulnerable while he remains clothed and armored, and a display of trust to provide comfort. ] You can touch me however you want.
[ Here, he has control. Here, he has the freedom of choice. Her arms stretch above her, lengthening her torso, to offer herself up like a sacrifice to both his gaze and his touch. ]