wesleynotponcy | Room 504, Thursday Evening

"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.

Wesley could see the anxiety etched on her face and had to do something, so he did what felt most natural. Slowly, watching her eyes the whole time, he gently cupped his hands around her breasts, feeling them, and leaned in for a kiss.

He couldn't believe he was doing this, he couldn't believe he was doing this, he couldn't believe he was doing this...

Kissing. Kissing, she could do, even when she felt short of breath all of a sudden because even if she'd put his hands there, it was new and it was exciting and there was some sort of tightening in her abdomen, and she really felt like her skin might just catch on fire at any moment.

Not, probably, what they were thinking with the whole Girl on Fire campaign. It had never felt more fitting, though.

As she kissed him, she could feel her body responding in ways she'd never really noticed before -- her skin was puckering under where he was feeling, and now everything was more sensitive, and her fingers were just going to skim up under his shirt, now, so that both could lightly scratch his chest. She didn't mean to hurt him, by any means, but it felt like a natural sort of...reciprocation?

Wesley twitched slightly at that... not-entirely-unwelcome sensation. He wasn't certain why it even surprised him that Katniss, who could do so much with her hands with such precision, could work his body as effortlessly as she worked a bow, but it did and he was amazed.

Experimentally, he ran a thumb over one of her nipples in a repeating motion, keeping his eyes on her face to gauge her reaction.

That just made the tingling below her theoretical belt intensify. It was wonderful, right there where his thumb was, too, but Katniss was a little surprised at the reactions she could feel elsewhere on her body as well. She arched her back without thinking about it -- thinking had, for the moment, sort of flown out the window -- in an effort to press up against his touch.

She closed her eyes, too, because it was just too much for her, at the moment, to see as well. Sensory overload, she'd heard it called. And her own fingers tightened against his chest, one thumb pressing to where she knew she'd find his heartbeat.

In that case, she would find it quicken under her fingers, as this evening's pattern of Wesley surprising himself with his own nerve continued.

Breaking the kiss for a moment and taking advantage of Katniss' arched back, Wesley leaned in to dot a straight line of kisses all the way down her neck, one directly below another. When the fabric of her shirt got in the way, he took a quick breath to psych himself up and then continued as if it wasn't there, gently kissing his way down. He wasn't going as far down as, say, where his hands had been just a moment ago, but he certainly covered more of her than his lips had previously touched.

She was -- warm, he realized, even through her shirt. Somehow he hadn't known what to expect, but he definitely liked that. Warmth was life and fire and all the things that Katniss had in spades -- and it was new, if not entirely unexpected, that she possessed those traits even in a physical capacity.

Edited 2011-10-28 22:18 (UTC)

Katniss' hands relaxed against his chest, skimming down his sides over his skin, and just focused on feeling. She was tingly and warm and his skin felt heated under her fingers.

She was not one for manners, ever Katniss got by on demands and actions, not requests. But not right now.

"Please," she breathed. She wasn't sure what she was pleading for, except for him to keep going. The feeling of his lips against her skin was electric, and it was sweeter than anything she'd ever had or wanted before.

Under normal circumstances, Wesley wouldn't know what to do with a directive like that, and would have needed clarification. But this was not a normal circumstance and he wasn't thinking in terms of clarifying and explaining and rationalizing. He wasn't even thinking of his books.

What he was doing was feeling, feeling Katniss' every twitch and breath and heartbeat, and that alone was enough to communicate her pleasure. That alone dictated that he should continue what he was doing, and it was so refreshing to be so sure of something without bothering with tedious words and analysis. He knew that she loved this with as much certainty as he knew anything.

So he continued lavishing her with kisses until he couldn't reach anymore, then changed his position so that he could continue. As comfortable as it had been to have her weight on him, he wriggled out from beneath her and let her lay flat so that he could reach all of her, kissing his way down her torso until he reached the hem of her shirt. Just as he slipped his thumbs underneath the light fabric, he glanced back up to gauge her response.

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