"You made your point," he says, in a half daze, a little delirious with it. There's nothing in the room now, save her. Nothing in his world matters more right now. "But you can make it as much as you want."
She hums softly, considering. She lets her boots sound on the floor, strolling back around behind him again.
"Close your eyes for me," she decides. She gives him a moment to comply, and then she's reaching for the knot she tied with the blindfold. "Keep them closed until I say. Can you do that?"
She pulls the shirt away, drops it to the floor. Her hands slide down the front of his shoulders from where she's standing, finding their way under his shirt, nails crooking into his skin without digging in at all.
"Yeah," he answers, and his eyes are shut when she takes the blindfold off. He straightens under her touch, the sensation almost too much in the best way.
"Do I get my hands back?" he asks to keep himself sane.
"Nope," she answers, popping the consonant just a bit, pulling her nails back up to his shoulders.
"Leave them right where they are. Just like that," she fills in when she steps back, makes no effort to hide the rustle of fabric again somewhere behind him.
The next time she touches him, it's her mouth on the side of his neck, her tongue hot and warm and her lips sealing to suck too gently to bruise, but intently nonetheless.
It feels so passive to be this way, to do this, to experience and not give.
"Cruel," he teases, keeping alert for what she's doing or where she might go next.
But then her mouth is on him and he grips the fabric of his trousers, squeezing his eyes shut. Nevertheless, he leans into her slightly, a soft moan escaping his lips.
Oh, she likes that. She likes that a lot, and instead of responding right away, she keeps doing what she's doing while her hands slide back down his front to find the bottom of his shirt to work it up as far as she can without him lifting his arms to help.
"Would it be crueller if I just wanted to look at you?" she asks, head still bent close enough that the ends of her hair brush his newly bared skin, and she blows softly over the wet spot she just left, cooling what she heated.
"Finish taking care of that shirt for me, will you?" she asks, trailing back around in front of him. "It's obstructing my view."
"Yeah, it would," he answers with absolutely no opposition in his tone.
This is actual trust, he tells himself. A small drop of it, at least, to dilute the small voice in his head telling him that this is all just some sort of prank.
He slides off his fatigues and the t-shirt next, letting them fall to the floor. He bites back a self-depricating comment, scratching a nervous itch on his elbow before he lays his hands on his thighs again.
He says that, then doesn't say something else, then fidgets. Her eyes trail over him - beautiful, a body she desires and a body she can trust because she can see mapped in front of her every step he's taken in his life - and she tilts her head to consider.
"Tell me what you're thinking?" she bids him as she comes around in front again. "You can say no."
The sound of laces being pulled - the soft thump of boots hitting the floor somewhere out of the way.
He shakes his head, eyes still closed. "I know I can." That's important, he thinks, to say. He does flinch at the sound of the thump, out of sight, but it's almost involuntary; he doesn't seem to notice.
"It ain't that. It's - I never cared about what I looked like before. Just - seems like a lie when you like looking at me, even though I know it's not."
"That's what I like," she answers, reaching forward to lay her palm across his chest. Over his heart.
She leaves it there as she carefully insinuates herself into the space in front of him, uses her other hand to move first one of his, then the other, back up to her hips. Even blind he'll notice that there's much more skin available to him now: she's still wearing her pants, but her shirt is gone.
"People who only care about what they look like are nice to look at, but there's nothing underneath. You're... you, Jacob. You're the man you are, no more, no less," she murmurs as she slides across his lap, letting him steady her, letting body heat collect between them where they touch and where they don't.
He draws her in as soon as he can touch, but doesn't dare move his hand to explore any more than what she's given him now.
"Don't know how to be anyone else," he tells her, raising his head up towards her voice. "You're a goddamn goddess to me sometimes, you know. Like you fell right out of a real good dream I had once." He shifts underneath her, wanting more but enjoying where they're at right now.
She settles, legs hooked outside his, and for a moment she's glad for the willing blindfold, too; she has no idea what her face is doing when he says that, and for a moment she doesn't know how to even respond. She doesn't have to, though, and she gives herself the time to kiss his collarbone, a scar on his shoulder, the center of his chest. To reach up and pull her fingers through his hair again, unobstructed by the blindfold this time.
"I'm just me," she finally says, like a helpless shrug. "Same as you."
"No, I mean it," he says, his fingers lightly pressing against the skin more freely this time. "You blew me off the last time I said it but it's the same now."
He keeps his chin tilted back, his chest tight against him.
"Yeah, well, I ain't thinking of anyone else. Just you, Ro. And you - fuck, you do so much for me, you know." He taps his fingers against her skin, obeying the rules, even now, because this doesn't feel any less intimate than sex.
She's torn. She didn't mean to lead them to this in particular, but she wasn't completely clueless, was she? She knew the direction she was headed in. She knew the hunch she had.
"You can touch," she stalls, releasing his hands back to whatever he wants to do with them, anyway. Tipping her hips forward anyway, seating them more closely together.
"I'm just me. Same as you," is what she ends up repeating, because that, too, is true.
"Too much," she admits, and little enough of it fair to Jacob. Too much, and little enough applicable.
She lets him kiss her, though he'll feel the boundaries of fabric where she's still wearing her bra. She shivers faintly, reactive to the cold even when she's not actively thinking about it.
"Wondering if you want a turn?" she finally decides, arms over his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
"I didn't say you could open your eyes," she reminds him, her smile crooked.
"But it's okay." It was just an experiment - a success, she thinks, and she leans down to kiss him, brief but sweet.
"My safeword is dulce. I've used the stoplight system, too, whichever makes you feel more comfortable." She doesn't move otherwise just yet, though. "The shirt I was using is on the bed. Tell me what you want me to do."
"It's a way to check in, before things get to needing to use the safeword," she answers, sliding off his lap so they can switch places.
"Green means everything is good, keep going. Yellow means slow down, or go carefully, or unsure, but don't necessarily stop. Red is stop - sometimes altogether, or sometimes go back to the last green, or do something different."
He stands up and brushes his fingers along her shoulders as he walks. "If I had known you were going to use a blindfold, I had something in the closet." He opens the door and takes out a few strips of cloth. Backup bandages, should he need them, but the infirmary is always good at giving out first aid when needed so they're mostly just decoration in the closet.
"I get it, though. The uh - stoplight thing. It works."
He stands behind her, one hand on her shoulder. "Ready?"
"That was part of the surprise. And I still have some ideas up my sleeves."
She takes his place on the chair, watching him move until he's back beside her, looking at the fabric.
They both know that in life, and especially on the Barge, there's no predicting what will happen next - but there's something more immediately urgent in knowing that he is planning something, however mild, and she's agreeing to it carte blanche.
He ties the cloth around her face, knotting it firmly but not too tight at the back.
"Okay." He presses a kiss to her shoulder, thoughtful, before moving away and shuffling through a drawer. He turns on his music, low and country and hums to it.
"Take off the pants. Just those," he says from behind her.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-09 07:29 pm (UTC)"You made your point," he says, in a half daze, a little delirious with it. There's nothing in the room now, save her. Nothing in his world matters more right now. "But you can make it as much as you want."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-09 07:34 pm (UTC)"Close your eyes for me," she decides. She gives him a moment to comply, and then she's reaching for the knot she tied with the blindfold. "Keep them closed until I say. Can you do that?"
She pulls the shirt away, drops it to the floor. Her hands slide down the front of his shoulders from where she's standing, finding their way under his shirt, nails crooking into his skin without digging in at all.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-09 07:40 pm (UTC)"Do I get my hands back?" he asks to keep himself sane.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-09 07:44 pm (UTC)"Leave them right where they are. Just like that," she fills in when she steps back, makes no effort to hide the rustle of fabric again somewhere behind him.
The next time she touches him, it's her mouth on the side of his neck, her tongue hot and warm and her lips sealing to suck too gently to bruise, but intently nonetheless.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-09 07:55 pm (UTC)"Cruel," he teases, keeping alert for what she's doing or where she might go next.
But then her mouth is on him and he grips the fabric of his trousers, squeezing his eyes shut. Nevertheless, he leans into her slightly, a soft moan escaping his lips.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-09 08:21 pm (UTC)"Would it be crueller if I just wanted to look at you?" she asks, head still bent close enough that the ends of her hair brush his newly bared skin, and she blows softly over the wet spot she just left, cooling what she heated.
"Finish taking care of that shirt for me, will you?" she asks, trailing back around in front of him. "It's obstructing my view."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-09 08:24 pm (UTC)This is actual trust, he tells himself. A small drop of it, at least, to dilute the small voice in his head telling him that this is all just some sort of prank.
He slides off his fatigues and the t-shirt next, letting them fall to the floor. He bites back a self-depricating comment, scratching a nervous itch on his elbow before he lays his hands on his thighs again.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-09 08:46 pm (UTC)"Tell me what you're thinking?" she bids him as she comes around in front again. "You can say no."
The sound of laces being pulled - the soft thump of boots hitting the floor somewhere out of the way.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-09 09:01 pm (UTC)"It ain't that. It's - I never cared about what I looked like before. Just - seems like a lie when you like looking at me, even though I know it's not."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 03:10 am (UTC)She leaves it there as she carefully insinuates herself into the space in front of him, uses her other hand to move first one of his, then the other, back up to her hips. Even blind he'll notice that there's much more skin available to him now: she's still wearing her pants, but her shirt is gone.
"People who only care about what they look like are nice to look at, but there's nothing underneath. You're... you, Jacob. You're the man you are, no more, no less," she murmurs as she slides across his lap, letting him steady her, letting body heat collect between them where they touch and where they don't.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 03:35 am (UTC)"Don't know how to be anyone else," he tells her, raising his head up towards her voice. "You're a goddamn goddess to me sometimes, you know. Like you fell right out of a real good dream I had once." He shifts underneath her, wanting more but enjoying where they're at right now.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 03:48 am (UTC)"I'm just me," she finally says, like a helpless shrug. "Same as you."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 03:56 am (UTC)He keeps his chin tilted back, his chest tight against him.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 04:01 am (UTC)Rosita Espinosa, you are damn near perfection.
"It's the kind of shit people usually say to me when they want me to ignore something else. Like that they're thinking of someone else."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 04:03 am (UTC)"Maybe you don't know."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 04:15 am (UTC)"You can touch," she stalls, releasing his hands back to whatever he wants to do with them, anyway. Tipping her hips forward anyway, seating them more closely together.
"I'm just me. Same as you," is what she ends up repeating, because that, too, is true.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 02:10 pm (UTC)He leans forward, pressing a kiss between her breasts as she moves forward.
"Your turn. What are you thinking?"
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 03:10 pm (UTC)She lets him kiss her, though he'll feel the boundaries of fabric where she's still wearing her bra. She shivers faintly, reactive to the cold even when she's not actively thinking about it.
"Wondering if you want a turn?" she finally decides, arms over his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 04:41 pm (UTC)Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 04:46 pm (UTC)"But it's okay." It was just an experiment - a success, she thinks, and she leans down to kiss him, brief but sweet.
"My safeword is dulce. I've used the stoplight system, too, whichever makes you feel more comfortable." She doesn't move otherwise just yet, though. "The shirt I was using is on the bed. Tell me what you want me to do."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 05:24 pm (UTC)"Your turn to sit in the chair, I think," he says, giving her a little nudge.
"Tell me the stoplight system. I think I can guess but - just to make sure."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 05:34 pm (UTC)"Green means everything is good, keep going. Yellow means slow down, or go carefully, or unsure, but don't necessarily stop. Red is stop - sometimes altogether, or sometimes go back to the last green, or do something different."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 05:40 pm (UTC)"I get it, though. The uh - stoplight thing. It works."
He stands behind her, one hand on her shoulder. "Ready?"
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 05:50 pm (UTC)She takes his place on the chair, watching him move until he's back beside her, looking at the fabric.
They both know that in life, and especially on the Barge, there's no predicting what will happen next - but there's something more immediately urgent in knowing that he is planning something, however mild, and she's agreeing to it carte blanche.
She nods, hands in her lap. "Green."
Re: [Spam ]
Date: 2024-12-10 07:05 pm (UTC)He ties the cloth around her face, knotting it firmly but not too tight at the back.
"Okay." He presses a kiss to her shoulder, thoughtful, before moving away and shuffling through a drawer. He turns on his music, low and country and hums to it.
"Take off the pants. Just those," he says from behind her.
Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From:Re: [Spam ]
From: