phaselocknroll | Shenanigans!

Oh, no. I'm not cheating.

[ And she tugs him a little closer. In the still lake that is Maya's emotions, there's a sudden ripple of desire ] Mm, okay now I'm cheating.

[ Damn, as bad as he is at this, it's hard to ignore that feeling coming from her direction -- even harder to filter it out when he's feeling exactly the same way.

The next breath he takes is an unsteady one. ]

You're lucky I like you so much that I'm lettin' you get away with this. 'Cause seriously? This is dastardly. Borderline evil.

[ desire is one of those tricky things, constantly feeding off of one another. It's going to become difficult to tell who's feeling what after a while, because it's already rolling through her like thunder. ]

What's evil is the fact that we're not back at the inn yet.

[ He laughs, then starts pulling them in that direction. ]

Don't have to ask me twice.

[ She just smiles and lets herself get pulled along ]

[ And they seriously can't get back fast enough by Peter's standards, even if he tries to play it cool.

(He fails, of course. Even without her getting emotional feedback from him, she's always been remarkably good at reading him like a book.)

The second the door closes behind her, guess who's going straight in for a kiss? ]

[ She wouldn't expect anything less at this point. Already wanting him like she does, she outright moans into the kiss, fingers instantly tangling in his hair ]

[ Holy fuck, he's never heard her make that sound before, and it sends a seriously pleasant chill up his spine, makes him moan in turn. And with the way they're bouncing want and need back and forth like they are? Peter's really, really, really ready to go. He needs this, like, five days ago.

He starts maneuvering them to the bed, reluctant to break contact for any length of time -- though he still has to pull apart to pull off his bow and quiver, and, seriously, it's paranoid of him to have brought it in the first place, but old habits die hard. ]

[ While he's doing that, she backs up to the edge of the bed, sitting and leaning back, using her to support her. She's already breathing hard, drunk off the sheer, animal need flowing between them.

Usually she appreciates that his paranoia means that he's prepared, but right now it's seriously inconvenient. ]

[ He strips himself of his coat while he's at it, leaves it strewn somewhere on the floor (because what is the floor if not one giant shelf?) and joins her on the bed.

Their time apart couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds at most, but with the way he kisses her, one might assume it was months since they'd seen each other last. He doesn't think he's ever felt so goddamn wound up, and fuck, he needs her so fucking badly it makes him ache. ]

[ She can feel his need pounding through her as strongly as her own, the way she kisses him back is hungry and desperate. Her hands go for his shirt and--- sorry Peter, you're going to need a new shirt. Demonic strength and all. ]

[ -- dammit, Maya. He liked that shirt.

Ah well, he can't particularly bring himself to care about it at the moment, because that was a pretty handy way to deal with the problem of disrobing without breaking their kiss. So good thinking, Maya. It's also a damn good thing he's not particularly self-conscious about his ~~harry potter~~ scars, the thin red lines that spread cross his chest.

(He actually thinks they look pretty impressive. Almost pretty, even. He's kept that opinion to himself.)

His own hands move to the sleeves of her dress, pushing them down her shoulders -- he's a little rougher than he means to be, motivated by his impatience and desire swirling together. ]

[ In different circumstances, she would feel guilty at seeing those marks, knowing that it was her fault that he was hurt in the first place.

But right now she's too distracted by the feel of his skin, warm to the touch as she rakes her hands down his back.

And if he's rough with her, she doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she's eager to get undressed herself, and moves to help him unlace her dress ]

[ why is women's clothing so complicated?!

Getting her undressed is taking far too long, by his reckoning (his reckoning, of course, being that it should have taken negative fifteen seconds), and he makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat. He doesn't really want to rip the thing, though.

Because some of us, Maya, are respectful of clothing and the vital role it plays in one's place in society. ]

[ Wow Peter calm down, it's not that complicated. Once the laces on her dress are loosened enough, she just sort of... wiggles out of it. Let's just say she doesn't wear much under that dress.

Or anything, really.

She drags her nails over his chest, gaze half-lidded and burning with the need for him. ]

Mm. I'm all yours, Peter.

[ Look man, it's hard to be calm with the two of them ping-ponging feelings back and forth like this. Even worse when Peter's never been fully in check of his own emotions to begin with.

And holy shit that look in her eyes, the way her nails dig a little into his skin as she drags them down-- yeah, liquid heat is just. Rolling throughout him.

God damn, with how shitty his luck is, how did he ever get so lucky to find her?

Words are too difficult right now, though. The fact that Maya can even string together a sentence is seriously an impressive testament to her resolve, because Peter how do English what huh? So instead he just moves to press his lips against her neck and eases her back onto the mattress. ]

[ Her hands continue to drift downward to the waistband of his pants, and she works his belt loose. Even if she is coherent enough to form whole sentences, it doesn't change the fact that she wants him five minutes ago.

His lips on her neck is enough to draw another moan out of her, and she arches against him. ]

[ fuck fuck fuck he's not used to this, not used to getting her emotions and feelings so strongly. Peter's an open book as far as his emotions go, but Maya? She's so utterly calm and collected most of the time that he forgets about their connection unless he's actively searching for it.

So right now, her desire swirling with his, feeding back and amplifying and looping and intensifying as it bounces to and fro -- it's almost too goddamn much, and he fucking groans against her shoulder, almost sobs as he pants for breath, hanging onto her for dear life.

Whenever it passes, or at least lets up enough that he can breathe, he eagerly helps her in the arduous task of removing his pants, which he shucks after a few moments. And, yeah, there needs to be a way, he thinks, that one could just snap his fingers and bam, no clothes.

(Maybe there's some ancient branch of sex magic that lets you do that? Wow, stupid thought, Peter. Go back to the Siren.)

Under normal circumstances, he'd warm her up. Take it slower. But he needs this. Needs her now, and he slips her cock into her, his moan muffled against her skin. ]

[ In the future she knows she'll have to be better with her self control. This is new territory for them both, but she's probably better-suited to keep them both from being overwhelmed.

But she also realizes that this has been a long time in coming- possibly since he kissed her for the first time, and she let him. She wanted him to.

His pleasure sings in concert with her own, and she half-moans, half-whimpers as she feels him enter her. She's so wet for him already, and gods, he feels so good. Her nails dig into his back- though in this instance, she's mindful of her strength and careful not to hurt him- and she hooks a leg around his hip. ]

[ Shit, shit, that feels amazing, she feels amazing, and god, why has it taken them this long to do this?

Oh, right. Assassins.

He presses into her, starving for the physical contact of her skin against his, and he kisses her for all he's worth, moving into a rhythm -- a little faster than he'd usually like, but he's so impatient, so ready for this fucking release because he needs this, needs her, needs something that just isn't complicated for once in these past few weeks. Just him and her, just this. ]

[ She doesn't even care. This is rough and desperate and damn it all, she needs him more than she's needed anything in her entire life.

The way she kisses him back lacks all gentleness, and she moans against his mouth. More, more, more, pounding through her like a mantra, in time with every movement ]

[ Damn, damn, damn, the way their desire sweeps back and forth, the way it ricochets when it reaches a peek makes him hiss out a swear. He slips one of his hands underneath her, pulling her hips closer, and he starts to lose his rhythm as he picks up speed, breathing ragged, nails digging into her skin, and--

He shifts and moans her name against her neck as he comes, pleasure crashing over him in waves, rolling through him, warm and amazing. ]

[ Oh god-- she couldn't ignore that even if she wanted to, the way ecstasy shots through their link like lightning makes her see stars.

She arches against him, tattoos going bright as her own orgasm sweeps over her. For a moment, she loses all sense of self as she and Peter's emotions crash together in a torrent, before slowly ebbing back into she and him.

That was sure a thing that happened. ]

[ oh fuck-- is about his last coherent thought before everything sort of blurs, rolls into one feeling that crashes back and forth, pulling and pushing like an undercurrent, dragging him down below its surface, and he doesn't even want to pull himself out, just lets himself be pulled down, down, down--

But eventually he comes out of it, the waves recede, and he's breathless and exhausted and-- ]

Um. Wow.

[ It comes out as a hoarse whisper as he pulls away, rolls onto his side. His mouth feels so dry, and he licks his lips.

That sure was a thing. ]

I agree.

[ Even the mighty Siren sounds breathless as she finally rolls herself over to cuddle against him.

In stark contrast to the chaos just moments before, there's something like lazy, warm contentment drifting through their link. ]

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