( pressed up against her mouth, his dick hard in the flat of her stomach. in theory, he's supposed to be better than this — but in practice, greer showed up wearing a bathing suit to his room, like some kind of centerfold in a skeezy magazine, so shoulds have gone right out with the bathwater. ash is not a good person, not a moral person, and this isn't any revelation to him. still, there's an important conversation that needs to happen now, putting a little space between their bodies just to grab her wrists and pin them to either side of her head, one at a time. it's a slow, deliberate action, watching greer all the while for signs of distaste, disinterest.
there aren't any. he knew there wouldn't be, but still — the breath comes a little easier out of his lungs, a little weight off his shoulders. )
We need to have a conversation before this goes any further.
( he squeezes greer's wrists as a signal to keep them in place, while his palms move in, sliding across the sensitive inner skin of her biceps, mapping down the curves of her breasts, to the sides of her waist. his fingers gather up the cover she's wearing, inching it slowly up her thighs. )
Your comfort is important to me, Greer. I can be very demanding — I want you to know you'll always be safe with me, always have an out if you need it. Have you ever used a safeword before? ( knuckles graze her stomach as he pulls the fabric up her body, bullying her arms straight up when he lifts it over her head, tossing it in a drape over his shoulder. ) It's something easy you can say, if you want to stop. I'll always listen to it, no matter what we're doing. You have my word. ( thoughtfully, while he splays his hands over her ribcage, her breasts propped up on the space between his thumb and forefinger. ) You can use my first name, if you don't have one in mind. Maxen.
[ They need to talk before they get too carried away — but Ash's hands are warm on her skin, so warm, and big enough to easily encircle her wrists without him even needing to expend that much effort. If he were pinning her against a horizontal surface, like a table or a bed, Greer knows she wouldn't even struggle all that much. In truth, it doesn't even cross her mind to resist him now; he draws her arms higher along the wall, like he needs her to hear precisely what he's saying before this moves forward, and she lifts her chin wordlessly, lips slightly parted for her quickening breaths. His presence might be blanketing, but she's attuned to every word he utters.
Ash also doesn't need to instruct her to keep her arms where he's placed them, even once he releases his grip on her wrists. There's something inherently helpless about surrendering like this, without a single restraint in place, makeshift or otherwise, but also something inherently trusting. She has to give herself up to him — to his perusal, to his exploration — and in return, he's banking on her not moving a muscle from the position she's been maneuvered into. ]
I know I will. [ It's part of the reason why she'd come here tonight, isn't it? Because she does feel safe with him, because she always has. She shakes her head at the mention of a safeword, something she's never even considered much less used elsewhere, but it sounds right — a word to equip as a last resort, as a touchstone if there's ever a moment where she becomes too overwhelmed to think of anything else. Not that she's considering using it now, but the suggestion he offers is one she agrees to almost instantly, with a few hasty nods of her head. ]
So even if I say "stop," that won't be enough to — [ Why, though, does the knowledge of that fill her with a small thrill, make her vibrate in his hold as he carefully, methodically removes her sarong, leaving even more of her available for his mapping. His hands cup beneath her breasts, lifting them even higher than the support her bathing suit offers, and Greer's breath catches. ] Maxen. [ She savors it, a name she knows well — and it feels special, to use it in this particular context, at his urging. ]
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( pressed up against her mouth, his dick hard in the flat of her stomach. in theory, he's supposed to be better than this — but in practice, greer showed up wearing a bathing suit to his room, like some kind of centerfold in a skeezy magazine, so shoulds have gone right out with the bathwater. ash is not a good person, not a moral person, and this isn't any revelation to him. still, there's an important conversation that needs to happen now, putting a little space between their bodies just to grab her wrists and pin them to either side of her head, one at a time. it's a slow, deliberate action, watching greer all the while for signs of distaste, disinterest.
there aren't any. he knew there wouldn't be, but still — the breath comes a little easier out of his lungs, a little weight off his shoulders. )
We need to have a conversation before this goes any further.
( he squeezes greer's wrists as a signal to keep them in place, while his palms move in, sliding across the sensitive inner skin of her biceps, mapping down the curves of her breasts, to the sides of her waist. his fingers gather up the cover she's wearing, inching it slowly up her thighs. )
Your comfort is important to me, Greer. I can be very demanding — I want you to know you'll always be safe with me, always have an out if you need it. Have you ever used a safeword before? ( knuckles graze her stomach as he pulls the fabric up her body, bullying her arms straight up when he lifts it over her head, tossing it in a drape over his shoulder. ) It's something easy you can say, if you want to stop. I'll always listen to it, no matter what we're doing. You have my word. ( thoughtfully, while he splays his hands over her ribcage, her breasts propped up on the space between his thumb and forefinger. ) You can use my first name, if you don't have one in mind. Maxen.
no subject
[ They need to talk before they get too carried away — but Ash's hands are warm on her skin, so warm, and big enough to easily encircle her wrists without him even needing to expend that much effort. If he were pinning her against a horizontal surface, like a table or a bed, Greer knows she wouldn't even struggle all that much. In truth, it doesn't even cross her mind to resist him now; he draws her arms higher along the wall, like he needs her to hear precisely what he's saying before this moves forward, and she lifts her chin wordlessly, lips slightly parted for her quickening breaths. His presence might be blanketing, but she's attuned to every word he utters.
Ash also doesn't need to instruct her to keep her arms where he's placed them, even once he releases his grip on her wrists. There's something inherently helpless about surrendering like this, without a single restraint in place, makeshift or otherwise, but also something inherently trusting. She has to give herself up to him — to his perusal, to his exploration — and in return, he's banking on her not moving a muscle from the position she's been maneuvered into. ]
I know I will. [ It's part of the reason why she'd come here tonight, isn't it? Because she does feel safe with him, because she always has. She shakes her head at the mention of a safeword, something she's never even considered much less used elsewhere, but it sounds right — a word to equip as a last resort, as a touchstone if there's ever a moment where she becomes too overwhelmed to think of anything else. Not that she's considering using it now, but the suggestion he offers is one she agrees to almost instantly, with a few hasty nods of her head. ]
So even if I say "stop," that won't be enough to — [ Why, though, does the knowledge of that fill her with a small thrill, make her vibrate in his hold as he carefully, methodically removes her sarong, leaving even more of her available for his mapping. His hands cup beneath her breasts, lifting them even higher than the support her bathing suit offers, and Greer's breath catches. ] Maxen. [ She savors it, a name she knows well — and it feels special, to use it in this particular context, at his urging. ]
I'll use it. But only if I really want to stop.