OPEN RP

[suicidemission]


Open RP Post
AU | Pre | Canon
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It'll probably end in tears.

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[suicidemission]

She's fucking amazing, everything about her. And oh god does he want her to come like this, right here in the open, because of him. It makes him move quicker, thrusting up into her, panting noisily against her lips, fingers digging, pulling, teeth nipping.

"C'mon," he hisses into her mouth, lips curved up, jerking her tight to him, angling himself to thrust deeper.

[dorothied]

It generally takes longer than this for her, but today it works. Slow and hard and followed by a frenzy and a struggle to keep this tryst subtle when she feels the same need to be spread under him or ride him faster than this. But for now, this is it.

She lets out a strangled gasp, her hands somehow finding his face, cupping it with both palms, fingers under his ears, forehead pressed to his and eyes wide mouth wide lungs wide - and - "Haah--" goes.

[suicidemission]

Usually takes him a little longer too -- Chuck prides himself on his stamina, his ability to hold out until Mako shrieks his name or at least, shrieks the Mako equivalent because she is as prideful as he is -- but not this time.

This time, he's bucking up into her and groaning as she flexes and tenses around him, mouth pressing agaisnt her neck to muffle the noises he wants to make as she drags his climax out of him, ripping it from him with claws and teeth, like she always does.

[dorothied]

It kind of does not hit her - doesn't fit - that she's supposed to stop and drop into a satisfied sprawl on the blanket; not yet. She still moves, still trembles and writhes above him as he comes and chokes a low groan against his shoulder, her lipstick smeared against his shirt and his neck from the pressure and movement.

[suicidemission]

They're a right mess. Smeared makeup, panted breathes, sweat shining on sex flushed skin. Were anyone close enough it would be painfully obvious as to what they were up to but mercifully the area is clear and no one has paid them any mind.

He clings to her, fingers pressing hard and rough into her skin, arms tight around her slender frame, face pressing into the crook of her neck.

[dorothied]

In the aftermath is when she takes full note of the mess; the slick stickiness between her legs - which she observes with a satisfied flutter - the sweat down her back, behind her knees, under her dress, at her hairline. She doesn't have a mirror, but it wouldn't be necessary; she looks fucked right now, she's sure of it.

"That was..." Are they supposed to stay for the picnic now or go at it again against the tree, because she can't tell which is more likely by the way they still cling.