wesleynotponcy | Room 504, Thursday Evening

"Squirrel and rabbit," she murmured, skimming her foot along his leg lightly. "They're all fat for the winter."

And now she was sliding her fingertips under his shirt, tracing them along his hip. It just seemed like a good place for her hand, and his skin was all warm and lovely and she shouldn't be this easy to distract. "And you?"

Oh. And... there was touching. The way she was laying on him made it a bit hard to reciprocate anywhere like that, but he slipped one hand under her hair to gently rub the nape of her neck.

Real sexy. Really.

"We had a reserves meeting today," he said, after a moment of Katniss-fingers and a resulting moment of not being able to come up with just what he'd done for a whole week. "Worked on bandages, first aid, that sort of thing."

"Maybe I'll start coming to reserves again," Katniss sighed softly, because even if that wasn't an obviously sexy sort of thing to do, it was soothing, and she liked his hands and her neck was sensitive and maybe she hadn't realized how starved she was for contact until recently. She tipped her head up a little, nuzzling along his jaw. "I stopped last year because I didn't really see the point if I was...going home."

His breath caught again at that brush of his jaw, and a quick set of goosebumps ran up his arms.

"It's, ah," he said, fumbling a bit for words because jaw and wow he could barely think right now. "It's, ah. A very different dynamic than, ah, last year's group."

Why, yes, Katniss, those would be Wes' toes curling and uncurling. Pay him no mind.

"Much, er," he added, his voice squeaking just a bit in what was obviously enjoyment. "Quieter."

"Maybe I'll be back for spring," she murmured, because that had hardly gone unnoticed. Now she was moving lightly to press a kiss to his neck, feather-light and just a little tentative.

Truth be told, she liked seeing him react. It sort of made her tingle.

Predictably, Wesley responded with more shivering, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he just -- enjoyed her fingers there.

When he retained the ability to actually move again, it was to tilt his head up to intercept one of those kisses that had been aimed for his neck. It really was the only way to keep from melting on the spot.

And that was really the reaction she'd wanted, since now she was feeling a bit melty, a exhaling sharply through her nose as she returned that kiss.

"You liked that," she murmured between kisses, half wonder, half playful accusation.

"I did," he agreed, smiling dorkily right back. "It seems that I may--" kiss-- "possibly--" kiss-- "be a bit--" kiss-- "sensitive there."

You don't say.

"Couldn't tell," she replied, smiling a little mischievously as she tilted her head to experimentally flick her tongue out against his neck before pressing a light kiss.

Well. If Katniss was going to keep doing that, Wesley certainly wasn't going to stop her. Instead he craned his neck, baring an open space for her to experimentally flick her tongue at all she liked, and took advantage of the new angle to press a kiss to the shell of her ear. Then, finding that he didn't actually hate that, he dipped down to kiss her again on her earlobe.

And that sent her squirming against him, and while there wasn't enough contact for the kind of electric charge that had gone through them the last time he'd made her do that, it was enough for Katniss to gasp into his neck.

Waiting was hard. Waiting was the worst. She didn't need anyone's advice, because they were probably figuring this out just fine, and she could just throw away his books and they could just hole up here and experiment and find out what was right -- like that had been, and and and....

Her fingers knotted in his shirt, mostly involuntarily, when he did that, and now she was shifting to bite his neck, her fingers nipping at the sensitive skin there before sucking on it to soothe.

"Oh-- oh!" Wesley gasped, his hands instinctively grappling for purchase on the nearest thing to his reach. That nearest thing happened to be Katniss' hips, which he gripped tightly as everything from surprise to pleasure to, oh, surprise again ran over his face.

Katniss' hips arched when he gripped them, her leg threading through his and she wasn't thinking at all right now. She didn't want to. Feeling was better, and she could feel him, reacting and she had done that to him, and that was sort of incredible. Her hand, holding so tight to his shirt, skimmed up under it to press over his heart, feeling for the erratic beat she knew would be there.

"I think I left a mark," she breathed, noticing what she'd done to his neck for the first time.

Wes sounded almost winded when he breathed, "I should say you did."

Because, wow, that felt... tender. And... odd. But not bad. He reached two fingers up to touch it, finding the skin there unusually soft. Vaguely, he wondered what it looked like.

"That was... rather... I rather liked that," he confessed, though perhaps not entirely surprisingly, as he continued to touch that tender spot where he knew a bruise would soon be forming.

"You -- I mean -- should I --?"

"I don't know," she said honestly, staring at the little mark with something akin to wonder. She tapped her fingers against his chest, and smiled, conspiratorially adding, "I...like figuring out what you like. I like making you shiver."

"Do you?" Wesley asked, smiling. "Well." With a faint trace of embarrassment, he admitted, "I... rather like learning how you work, too."

As if to prove that very statement, he returned to his most recent success and pressed another kiss to her ear, but this time tried tracing the outer shell with his tongue, simultaneously feeling very silly and very curious the whole time he was doing it.

And Katniss couldn't muffle the "Oh," she breathed, slightly higher-pitched than her usual timbre. That noise was completely unfamiliar to her, and didn't even sound like her. But it certainly told Wesley she'd enjoyed it, which was probably the goal of compulsory noises at times like these. She shifted against him, her skin breaking out in tiny goosebumps at that.

"...I like you learning about me, too."

Wesley was surprised by that reaction, but altogether pleased that he'd been able to elicit that out of her. Spurred on, he responded by moving further down, pressing a kiss to the space where neck met shoulder. Then, deciding that was inadequate, he slid the collar of her shirt to the side and pressed another kiss to her shoulder proper.

Her... bare shoulder. Oh, that brought up all kinds of thoughts.

Katniss' fingers tightened against his chest, another entirely involuntary response. Her shoulder. Of all things to get worked up over. But he was kissing bare skin, and she was sort of melting, and she could feel every muscle she had coiling tightly in some kind of anticipation.

She'd forgotten to put a bra back on, too, since...well, she really didn't see the point half the time, anyway. But now she was concscious, in the back of her mind, that there was just that thin fabric of her shirt there and she didn't even know what she wanted except, you know, everything.

She managed to piece together enough thought to shift her head enough to press a kiss near the base of his neck. She had to crane her own to get there, but she couldn't just not touch him.

It really was a shame that they still hadn't been able to find a perfect position that would allow for each of them to deliver the other kisses while not inhibiting reciprocation. Wesley was going to ponder that later and try to devise a solution, but in the meantime, her lips were on his neck and that was as good a distraction as any.

He drew in a quick breath at that, feeling what felt like the thousandth set of goosebumps run up his arms. Daringly, he responded by letting his hands slide up her torso, over her shirt, until his fingertips grazed the slightest incline.

Oh. He was touching -- oh.

Oh, indeed.

Katniss felt a flush wash over her, starting at her face and continuing downwards until she was sure every inch of her was a light pink. She suddenly felt overwhelmingly shy, unbearably self-conscious -- but not in any kind of way that made her want to tell him to move his hands. She hissed in a breath, her back arching slightly, and resisted the urge to bury her face in a pillow or something.

"They're not much," she mumbled, apologetically. Little more than a pair of mosquito bites, really.

He hesitated, feeling ridiculous with his hands there and her obvious discomfort, then quickly pulled them away. "Er. I'm sorry," he said, wondering if he'd utterly ruined the moment. "I didn't mean -- that is -- I'm sorry."

Blushing. Blushing so hard right now.

Katniss frowned at the sudden loss of contact, and then at his embarrassment, and then at her own.

It only took a moment before she knew what to do, and reached for his hands to replace them on her (tiny, embarrassingly small, but she was ignoring that part of her brain right now) breasts.

"Don't be. I just...don't know what to do."

Oh. Oh.

Wesley let out a tiny squeaking noise that really should tell Katniss all she needed to know about who in this room had less of a clue what to do here.

His hands just stayed there, awkwardly, for a second. Well. They certainly were... round, weren't they?

"...you don't have to if you don't want to. I just thought you did."

And now she was overthinking it and oh, god, she was so bad at this, and she liked his hands there but what if he was just sitting there thinking about how he could probably fit them both in one hand (if that were anatomically possible) or what if he was thinking about books or trees or whether he'd left something at the library or nothing related to her.

She had to stop thinking. She had to.

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