unpavemypaths | open post

[Even without the hands on his back he would still stay close, the feel of her pressed against him so intoxicating he isn’t even trying to pull away, if anything he just wants to be closer, his own hands holding her tight. He doesn’t feel as rushed, even if the desire is no less potent, the longer he’s there, the more he can convince himself they’ve got time, even if the opposite is probably true. At least they can say that they definitely made the most of it.]

[It's hard to stop, knowing that eventually something's going to intrude -- whether that's him traveling again, or life outside this apartment. But she does manage to pull away eventually, even if she isn't going far, nuzzling into his throat, kissing softly at the side of his neck even as she points out:] Didn't you want to eat?

[When she pulls away, he tries to follow, nuzzling into her hair when she moves down to his throat. He laughs slightly at her question, voice a little breathless when he replies.] Eventually…I got distracted.

Sorry. [She doesn't sound remotely sorry, following down the line of his neck to his collarbone, teeth scraping gently over the spot below before she asks:] Can I?

[She's always been careful about asking before leaving any marks behind, doing anything that will linger to affect other versions of him. Deep down she almost feels bad for it, because she knows her Sasha doesn't really think twice about leaving the mess behind for others to handle, and she's just doing it to ease her own guilt -- but that's never really stopped her before.]

[His first thought when Genie asks to leave a mark is frustratingly about Lyn. He doesn’t really know the nature of the relationship his later versions are having with her currently, but he also doesn’t care. Nothing he does will have a lasting effect anyway, but he can at least make shit difficult. He hums an affirmative.] Somewhere visible. I want to see it.

Okay. [He doesn't have to say anything else to convince her; she's redirecting immediately, sucking a greedy, biting kiss right above the pulse in his throat. She wouldn't do it if she knew it'd be risking something important to any version of him. But she's still in the dark about that, and stupidly, pettily, she likes the idea of giving him a reason to think about her when he leaves here. When he's past the point where he's hers.

Sometimes she really wonders if the two of them were terrible for each other, if she actually brings out the worst in him no matter how much she wants to help. If maybe that's why he left.]

[His pulse goes wild the moment she says okay, before she’s even placed her lips against him, just the thought that they are doing something risky, something bad, making it all that much more exciting. He lets out a moan at the first scrape of teeth, his hand tightening in her hair, his body rocking forward slightly against her.]

Fuck. [By the time she’s done, his breath is coming quicker, the hand around her waist fisted in the fabric of her shirt. He turns to capture her lips again as soon as he can, kissing her hard and deep.]

[There isn't much room left to push herself closer against him, but that doesn't seem to be stopping her from trying. Her teeth drag gently against his lip, kisses dirty and desperate, not even making a token attempt at holding back her own desire at this point. It's insane that he can still make her feel this way. She's never even pretended that she was over him, not to herself at least, but she thought maybe some of it would have died down in the time between.]

[The shift is obvious, when things go from teasing and subtle to intense, the heat between them both obvious and palpable. He turns them, moving so he can press her back up against the fridge, using it as leverage to lift her up, his hands going below her thighs to hold onto her. Maybe he was too quick to be upset by her decision to move out of the professors house, maybe he should have considered the opportunities that privacy affords them. He doesn’t give her a chance to recover once she’s in his arms, his face nuzzling into her neck, he leaves a mark of his own in the soft spot right at the base.]

Fuck, Sasha. [His name comes out as a shaky moan. Her legs wrap around him, head tilted back to give him full access, hands in his hair. She tugs him into another needy kiss once he's done, breaths coming fast, shifting slightly against him with a little whine.]

[When she shifts against him, he lets out a moan, his hands tightening on her thighs, hard enough to leave a print, just another reminder that he was here, that this really happened. He pulls his mouth away for a moment, giving himself enough presence of mind to be able to work himself out of his boxers, letting them pool around his ankles without much thought, he can worry about it later.

He kisses over her jaw, her chin, eyes watching her as he moves to press into her once more, watching her face for any sign of discomfort or hurt. His eyes flutter slightly when she’s fully around him, his mouth dropping open as he presses another kiss to her neck. She still feels amazing, even though they were just here, it’s no less intense than a few moments earlier, his hips rocking with the need to move, to press himself deeper, make her his.]

[Knowing he's leaving more signs of himself behind just eggs her on more, groaning. There's no pain, just a cracked-open need plainly visible, desperation and awe. Her nails rake over his back as he presses into her, just this side of too hard, silently looking to leave reminders of her own, to show that this happened, even if just for a little while.

It's almost impossible to keep quiet and she's not really trying, choked little noises ripping out of her over and over. There's not much chance to move held up like this; it's overwhelming, her eyes shut tight, clutching at him, nothing but encouraging.]

[He continues to move, encouraged by her noises and emboldened by the fact he has all of the control here, he makes her take what he gives, pressing in hard and deep, building a rhythm with every thrust. He presses his lips to her neck, her collarbone, breathing against her more than kissing, his focus lost in the sea of sensation, the feel of her wrapped completely around him, at his mercy. It’s even better than before, he doesn’t want it to end, slowing down whenever he feels too overwhelmed, wanting to make it last.]

[It can't last forever, but it's easier to feel like the moment's never going to pass when she can't do anything about it. To stop thinking about when it's going to end and just try to hang on to how everything feels. She groans a little when he slows down, but it's not really a complaint, her fingers tangling in his hair and nails digging into his upper arm, not trying to get him to do anything else.

She presses a kiss against his temple, lips moving soundlessly, love you love you, words she's rarely been brave enough to say out loud. Instead what comes out when she finds her voice is his name, a quiet string of pleas, for more or to make it last longer, she's not quite sure. But she'll hold on to him until the end, not giving any sign she wants to move even when she tips into another climax, legs shaky around him and panting for air.]

[He almost loses it when she climaxes, his name dropping from her lips so beautifully, high pitched and strained like she can’t help it, her whole body clenched tight. He breathes through it, pressing kiss after kiss to her jaw, telling her she’s lovely and beautiful and feels amazing and oh god.

There’s hesitation again after she comes down from it, his movements even smaller, contained, but if anything she just holds on tighter, even as her legs shake, they don’t let go. He moves his arm, one at a time, putting them under her knees, nearly folding her in half but holding her up more easily. The change in position is nearly too much on it’s own, closer, deeper, tighter, he can’t control himself, pushing forward fast and rough, moving again and again until that delicious wave crests and falls, his orgasm hitting him all at once. It feels like it goes on forever his hips still grinding subtly as his presses his forehead into her neck, his entire body tingling and warm. He can’t even speak but he says her name over and over, in between breaths, quiet and coveted like a secret prayer asking any god that might be out there to please let him keep her.]

[She murmurs to him now and then, adoring nonsense, but mostly she just holds on, hands steady against his skin, encouraging him to take what he wants. It's good, overwhelming, no room for thought. Just heat, her whole body lit up with every movement.

She's still not letting go when he finally stops, fingers combing his hair back, chest twisting at the way he says her name.]

I'm here. [Soft, sweet, a reminder and a promise. It doesn't matter that it's not his name curled into her skin, it never did; she's his as long as he wants. Even when he doesn't want her, it doesn't really change. She presses another soft kiss into his hair, lingering, still holding tight.]

[His forehead presses closer, his face disappearing into her neck, where every breath smells and tastes like her. He feels rubbed raw, inside out, still trying to catch his breath and hold on to the moment that is slipping through his fingers like water, never really there, even if it felt like it. God, why can’t she be his? Why can’t this be their forever? He thought life was cruel enough before all of this, all his memories torn up and thrown out for him to stumble through at random, why couldn’t he at least have something good?]

I want you. Genie, I only want you. [It’s nonsensical, whispered, small and guilty, like a confession. Maybe all of his lives do want her, even when someone else is in the picture. How else can he explain how his heart beats in time with hers? How his hands remember the feel of her body, the press of her skin? How his very bones ache when she isn’t around? She has rewritten every fiber of his being, every cell in his body screaming her name. How can he not belong to her?]

You have me. You always have.

[She can't keep the sadness out of her voice, though. At some point that changes, they both have to know that. Imogene never really asked why it is he puts that distance between them when the older version comes around, but she's picked up enough to know that he's with his soulmate at that point, at least usually.

She wants to tell him it's going to be okay for both of them, but fuck if it doesn't feel that way right now, so she just says, softly:] I'm all yours.

[He nods against her neck again, feeling guilty for not telling her about Lyn. That his other version found her. Eventually it’s going to come out and he feels like it will hurt Genie more than him. He doesn’t say anything, just presses another kiss to her neck. After a moment, he slowly lets her down, his own arms tired, her legs still shaky, unfortunately they can’t stay like that forever, no matter how hard he tries.

He stays close once she’s on her own feet again, immediately pulling her to him in an embrace, soaking up as much comfort as he can, offering it as well, knowing it won’t be here for much longer. He presses a kiss to her temple, to the tip of her ear, whispering,] I just wish we had more time.

[She doesn't mind being put down as long as he's not moving away. Her arms resettle around him, hand moving softly up and down his back, her cheek against his chest. Breathing him in while she still can.]

Me too. [She turns her head enough to press a kiss into his shoulder softly, resting her forehead there, eyes closed.] But -- you know where I am now. The next time you can come looking for me.

[And hopefully, if they're both lucky, nothing will have changed by then, he won't have someone else or something she has to worry about spoiling. Maybe they'll get to steal away at least a couple more times first.]

I will. [Emphatic and quick. No matter what his body is doing, or where the present version of him is he’ll always seek out Imogene. He needs at least a bit more of this or he’ll go insane, can’t even consider that it would be the last time.

He buries his head in her hair again, holding onto her, reluctant to move, even as the sweat cools on their skin and they become sticky messes, he refuses to pull away. Even when they were together before, things were rarely like this, their intimacy often interrupted or rushed, always having to keep quiet in case someone else in the house would hear. They didn’t get a chance to bask in the afterglow, to comfort and hold each other. It’s bittersweet to have it now, to discover a new and beautiful aspect of their relationship and not know if it could be, not only the first, but final time it ever happens.]

[She loses track of time, loses track of everything, just holding on to him. It's a rare thing these days. She's always running from one thing to the other, keeping herself busy so she doesn't have enough time to think so much. It's easier to push that away with his arms around her. Easier to just breathe for a little while.

She doesn't know how long it's been when she does shift, pulling away just so she can lean up and kiss him softly, offering a crooked smile.] Come on. We should clean up a little. [Not that she's going to let him out of her sight while she does that. Or at all, until he's gone, this version of him at least.]

[There’s a fair amount of grumbling when she pulls away but it would probably be good to clean up some. And it doesn’t seem like she’s pulling away completely, staying close, keeping a hand on him in someway. He falls into step behind her when she suggests it, his arms wrapping around her middle, his face still nuzzling into her neck, harder to walk but satisfies his urge to stay attached to her like a barnacle.]

How many orgasms can a person have before they pass out? Should we go for the record? [It’s mostly a joke but give him another hour and who knows.]

It's probably in one of my textbooks somewhere, if you feel like looking. [She's laughing a little, letting him cling on to her even as she leads him to the bathroom. The shower sounds like an exhausting amount of standing, but there's washcloths and towels on a little rack inside the door, and it doesn't take much to clean up enough to feel better. She's never quite out of reach, her hands careful and tender against him, taking care of him in a way she never really got to do before.

She should probably find more clothes, should encourage him to eat and call people to tell them he's okay, something useful like that -- instead she just kisses him soundly once she's done.]

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