Hotaru
Zeus has crafted you from clay and gold
Cold tile chills at her back, making her gasp slightly as the sensations war against her warm skin and the steam of the shower. As George's mouth descends she arches into his touch - but as the pleasure begins to pool and deepen, so too does that prior feeling begin to creep back in.
No, why, what is happening? Her hand spasms on his shoulder, not enough for him to feel but enough for Hotaru to notice. She wants this, she does, she can feel how her thighs tremble and she begins to grow wet with anticipation. But something in her head - or, more terrifyingly, her heart - is yanking back on the reigns.
It's as he makes it to his knees and pauses that she looks down at him, and there is something nakedly scared in her expression that she can't control even as she tries to scramble for a way to let him down easy. "No, I - come here, please?" Because no, it's not still okay, but she isn't trying to push him away. Only once he is standing does she push forward into his arms, pressing her face into his chest to hold him as she tries to quell her sudden freakout. "I'm sorry. I haven't - not like this. Not in a really long time." It's disjointed, but she prays he'll understand. The last time someone held her, gave her pleasure, while actually knowing her? Liking her? It had been with Sunjata and Nate.
And she's realizing here and now that she never did it again, not for four long years. And maybe she's forgotten how. How to be held by someone whose face and name won't be forgotten by the night's end. How to trust. Yet she finds she's equally intimidated (not scared, she can't possibly be scared) that he won't understand, that he'll be offended.
No, why, what is happening? Her hand spasms on his shoulder, not enough for him to feel but enough for Hotaru to notice. She wants this, she does, she can feel how her thighs tremble and she begins to grow wet with anticipation. But something in her head - or, more terrifyingly, her heart - is yanking back on the reigns.
It's as he makes it to his knees and pauses that she looks down at him, and there is something nakedly scared in her expression that she can't control even as she tries to scramble for a way to let him down easy. "No, I - come here, please?" Because no, it's not still okay, but she isn't trying to push him away. Only once he is standing does she push forward into his arms, pressing her face into his chest to hold him as she tries to quell her sudden freakout. "I'm sorry. I haven't - not like this. Not in a really long time." It's disjointed, but she prays he'll understand. The last time someone held her, gave her pleasure, while actually knowing her? Liking her? It had been with Sunjata and Nate.
And she's realizing here and now that she never did it again, not for four long years. And maybe she's forgotten how. How to be held by someone whose face and name won't be forgotten by the night's end. How to trust. Yet she finds she's equally intimidated (not scared, she can't possibly be scared) that he won't understand, that he'll be offended.
Such a lovely, pretty hand to hold - if you had the time
