killertrack | . the moment you catch feelings . [General IC Inbox]

[ Baby swallows with difficulty when Izzy approaches, lips parting on a wordless breath when she moves onto the bed, her eyes setting him on fire everywhere they look.

His stomach tightens with surprise and a strong jolt of arousal when she talks again, encouraging him to keep going. He'd ask if she's sure, but she's like a panther on the prowl, a different side of Isabelle exposing to Baby now, a more sexual, openly wanting kind of girl. He never thought she wanted him, but now, there is no mistaking it.

So he swallows hard again around the lump of mortification still lodged in his throat, and he licks his lips, his eyes never leaving her face as he starts to move his hand again. For a second, his muscles tense and a wrecked moan escapes him as his eyes flutter, wanting to close, but he forces himself to keep them open.

He moves his hand like he always does - not very tight, but in long, slow strokes, pressing his thumb against the head on the upstroke. ]

Iz-Izzy -

( she enjoys the way he gives in to her, how he doesn't question her guidance— it was no means a demand, he held free reign to stop her if he wanted to, to stop any of this before it reached a point that they wouldn't be able to take back. but she's not interested in doing so, not when she's got him beneath her like this, when she knows he was thinking of her when she'd found him entirely lost to his own touch.

there's something intoxicating about it, watching him pick up that steady tandem once more, catching every little flit of his lids as they undoubtedly beg to close, and the way he doesn't allow himself. disciplines gaze to remain hooded and locked with hers. a sultry hum proceeds her words: ) Better than a picture, carino, no?

( her own breath stumbles, however slight it may be, pulse ricocheting within her chest, and as drawn as she is to the way his features twitch in such taken pleasure, she's equally as so to the way he works himself, blush of his head leaking tellingly. she's leaning closer, encouraging him to lie back, get comfortable as he'd been, touch traveling to smooth down along his chest, violently battling the desire to take over for him.

tone remains low, an octave of velvet like a coo to encourage him. ) I like that you were thinking of me. Is it the first time?

[ He's unwilling to look away from Isabelle even as he leans back, but he still follows her touch, his stomach muscles contracting under her hand. ]

Better? You have no idea. [ His words are a little broken, his voice rough, tinged with awe. ] I think I'm still dreaming.

[ He wants to touch her, to pull her to him, feel her against him for the first time, maybe for the only time, but he doesn't know if he can ask, what the rules of this game are. ]

I've not been thinking of anyone else for weeks. Every time. [ He's breathing hard, movements of his hand slowing as he focuses on forming sentences. ] I'm so into you it's making me crazy.

( she's following his breaths, watching the way his lips form to words and octaves of interrupting pleasure, how vulnerable he is to her figure straddled above him, so willing and eager to listen. perhaps it's that bit of her that, regardless of how she quiets it, hungers for whatever bit of control she can find— formed from far too many occasions of losing it.

there's an inherent trust here with him, one that's blossomed, a slow bloom, and it takes everything she has not to let slip the whimper that's waiting at the back of her throat, how brows furrow together in wanting. ) Do you want me, Baby?

( redundancy meant little when it came to something like this, own tone hitching as she locks their gazes once more. it's an asking, a means of seeking permission as her fingertips drift lower to ghost over each of his own, stumbling along his knuckles, calming the tremor that may otherwise be ridden there by slowly raveling digits along his base as he strokes upward. ) You can have me. ( a pulse of wrapped fist, ragged exhale left to brush against his mouth, tracing the slick that'd drizzled from his tip in order to lather her first firm, appreciative stroke. )

[ Do you want me?, she asks, and Baby almost falls back, his arm trembling as he nods, head tilted to hers. ]

Yes. Of course.

[ A lot more could be said; he doesn't believe anyone who ever meets Isabelle wouldn't want her - she's too beautiful, enthralling, but also intelligent and soft and yet so much stronger than she looks - and Baby is no exception. The first time he's laid eyes on her, heard some of the doubts in her voice, he's been wanting to be everything he could to her.

He breathes out raggedly when she moves her hand down, covering his and then replacing it as his own fingers loosen and let her take over. His heart is beating a mile a second, threatening to beat right out of his chest, as he whispers against her lips. ]

I've wanted you since I've first looked at you look at a sunset.

[ He finally gives up on pretense, lying back down fully as his free hand comes up to frame the side of her face, and he leans up for a kiss, not as soft a one might expect from him. ]

( to an extent, isabelle knows what she has to offer, knows the overall appeal of her figure, as she's conquered many a missions using it to it's full advantage of distraction. but there's a certain level of intimacy that comes with allowing another to have it, giving them free reign to touch her as they please, hold any iota of power greater than her own. it's tantalizing, the way she'd found him, and yet even when that need within her grows all the more voracious, she meets him with tenderness, as if she can't help it. as if there's no other way to be with him.

and he responds in kind.

his admissions soften that guard she keeps, and she's too awe-stricken by the sincerity in his confession that the demand of his mouth to hers steals the breath that'd been waiting to tread free. her wrist works smoothly, albeit at a bit more lively a pace than he'd set-- but it's nothing aggressive, as slow a build as they'd been from the beginning. supportive palm ravels up into the sheets, feeding into the kiss rhythmically, brims parting to curl tongue against his lower lip. it's only in the briefest of breaks that she manages out a tiny mew of- ) —Baby. ( before she's fallen in once more. )

[ Kissing Isabelle is like - taking a breath for the first time. It's like he's been starved for air all of this time, walking around and drowning, until their lips touched, and he became whole and alive once more.

It's like colors had been muted, until right now, until her dark red lips against his and her well-manicured hand around his erection. His hips move of their own accord, following her, and, distantly, he hears something clatter to the floor - his phone, left abandoned.

She says his name and it's the sweetest two syllables he's ever heard, past the ringing in his ears and the music in his head. It's a symphony in four letter and a silky voice, and Baby drinks it in, his hand - now free - moving to her hip, then down, finding the hem of her dress and tucking his fingers into it. ]

I want to touch you, [ he murmurs between kisses, reverend and just as awed as he feels. ]

( there's something sweet hidden in his mouth, tethering invisible threads about each of her ribs and pulling inward, mismatched breaths conversing with one another in their attempts to hide them enough to keep mouths intact. she's vividly aware of the way his hips give those slight bucks in unison to her strokes, the way large palm leaves a blazing trail as it finds the wide bow of her waist, flirting with hem of a dress that hugs her thighs.

it's risen up just enough that once his digits tuck beneath, there isn't much keeping them from rising to the swell of hips, petite waistline waiting to gather the fabric if he only pushed it upright just so— and then he lays that claim against her mouth, tells her what he wants, and she's meeting forehead to his, noses finding a light stumble and exhales tripping. )

Touch me. ( it's approval as much as it is a plea, temple drifting to his, glancing down between the minimal distance of their figures to watch his cock slide easily within her clutch, well attuned to the rapidity of his heart, beating as fervently as her own. )

[ He lets out another moan, wretched out of him by too many feelings and sensations taking over his body, familiar and yet completely new, completely breathtaking. If this is what it feels like, just kissing Isabelle, just having her hand on him, he has no idea what more must feel like. The most amazing kind of death.

When she gives him permission; something hinting at begging in the tone of her voice, Baby shivers and, in a not so gentle move, puts his hand fully under her tight dress, the fabric gathering around his wrist as he pushes up, touching skin. He lets out a tiny noise, his fingers spreading over her ass, struck dumb by the simple fact that he can touch her, feel her skin and the perfection of her curves instead of just looking from afar.

He breathes raggedly, tipping his head against Izzy's, his lips dragging against her cheek when she looks down. He wonders what it looks like to her, what he looks like to her. Too hot, the tip of his cock leaking profusely as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm. ]

( izzy can count on one hand the amount of times she's been to bed with a man and only simply touched them, in which they hadn't taken to the first opportunity to devour her, claim their mouth over any bit of skin they could in order to mark themselves as having been there. but baby; he's the trail of ghosting lips at her cheek, a trembling adoration to the way the span of his palm cups over her ass— no bit possessively as much as it is appreciation, an awe she's never been entirely sure how to handle.

she'd be lying if she said she weren't the least bit curious, driven to find those rougher edges that desperation pulls from another that's only so subtly being shown to her by the way he gropes her, the way he'd fed up into the heat of her mouth as if there was nothing else.

she knows he's getting close, stark black lingerie of hers left to peek free where panties are hugged tightly to her hips, and she adds a curl to the tandem of her wrist. ensures that every time she milks him upward she's dragging the edge of her palm over his tip, covering the entirety of him to mimic for what she can how her own tight, velveteen walls would take him. it's beyond her how intimacy has found itself where lust otherwise prevails, stumbling lips along his ear to let a hot breath into it's shell, a whisper following after: )

Don't hold back.

[ He might not have been holding back, but he was definitely all too aware of his hand on her, trying to gauge if he was not overstepping, in some way or another. Which sounds ludicrous considering she has his cock in her hand, but Isabelle, to him, is a rare, precious person he wants to protect, and never push somewhere she doesn't want to go.

Still, when she says, don't hold back, Baby turns his head to look at her and at the same time, swiftly spread his legs, his thighs on the inside of her knees, forcing her legs to spread wider, and her dress to ride up to her hips. He slips two fingers under her underwear, reminded of the tone of her voice when she asked him to touch her as he trails said fingers down along the curve of her ass, to between her legs - bless having ridiculously long arms.

He's rolling his hips continuously now, fingers teasing at her folds, his own body completely under her spell as he looks at Isabelle, lips parted on breathless gasps. ]

( it's difficult for her to keep any semblance of control about her the moment his touch travels to the heat between her legs, panties unmistakably damp merely from getting him off, from those little gasps and moans she'd managed to pull from the bed of his throat— intoxicatingly so, she's more than driven to find every little way in which he can make her name sound.

it's overwhelming, the extent she wishes to know him, learn him; lashes fluttering to revel in each of his features one by one as she brings him closer, however it's her own lids that falter for a single, sweet moment to savor him in opposing senses that were better equipped. lean fingers dipping between soft petals is enough to draw forth a moan of her own, sultry as it is soft, almost hidden enough to be mistaken as a breath, and with faltering discipline she's opening hues to align their gazes once more.

theres something electric, there, and it's difficult to keep those tendrils of selfishness from showing, that ache to focus solely on the way it feels for him to explore her, but it's never been in her nature. could never be when she's brought him this far, lingering toward that blissful edge she's far too driven to meet him with. )

[ There's a moment of clarity in his brain, where he realizes that a short moment ago, he was jerking off to pictures of Isabelle on his phone, with no hope it would ever become more than that - a fantasy, right at the tip of his fingers and yet never to be reached. And now, now he's got the tip of his fingers almost inside her.

And it's that thought that pushes him over the edge - like a gutpunch, surprising and on the verge of painful, he comes, body going taut as he arches into her, gasping breaths into his shrinking lungs. ]

Fuck, Isabelle!

[ He sounds like the name has been ripped from his throat, the very last word he could say. He clenches all over, his fingers moving down to squeeze at her thigh, his whole body riding waves of blissfulness that make him shiver and tremble under her touch. ]

( there's a certain amount of pride, however softened it may be, that comes with the knowledge that it's nothing more than her hand, his eyes alit with hers that brings him to that shattering end. the way he trembles, how he can't help but to find purchase of the first bit of her he can get his hands on, the way he calls her name, like it's all he could manage to make sense of on too thick a tongue.

she could've easily slipped down to eliminate any mess with her mouth, but there was no finding it within herself to pull back from the way he looked at her, like the only bit of foundation he could find as the rest of him was torn through those violent waves of pleasure. and she'll be that for him, own lips fallen to a petite gape and hovering still just against his own, following every jerk of his hips and quiver of his frame, working her hand with a consistency she knows would ring every last bit of that orgasm through him.

it's only once she's knows he's coming down, once the weight of him sinks beneath in opposition to the arch it'd found upon it's release that she gradually slows, knows better than to overstimulate, and a smile sighs itself fully across the breadth of her mouth. she's biting into lower lip, bashfulness not something a lightwood often wore, but it wouldn't be the first time he's surprised her.

a sweet, brief kiss to his lips, willing him to come back to her, to find a means of calm by way of her presence alone. )

[ It takes him a certain amount of time, somewhere between a few seconds to minutes, for him to get back to earth. He feels like his spine has liquefied, his whole body pliant and relaxed now, when his eyes flutter open to look at Izzy and that incredible smile on her face. He reaches up again when she kisses him, the back of his fingers against her cheek when their eyes meet once more. ]

Oh, shit, I - Izzy, can I --

[ As always, words feel clumsy in his mouth, too big and stupid and he blushes, feeling lost for a second as he scrambles to find how to say what he wants to say. He chuckles, breathlessly, before kissing her again, and finally whispering right against her lips. ]

I want to make you come.

( no bit of that tender haze is lost between them as he comes to, soothing palm up along the centre of his chest, over the wild thump of his pulse til she's left trailing her touch along his jaw, thumb rising to trace beneath swell of his lower lip. she's fixed to his mouth as he stumbles on his words, smile still in tact despite how it fades to the calm they've fallen into.

truthfully, she'd of been content to solely get him off, still ringing with the satisfaction of watching him come apart, and yet all it takes is that whispered admittance for interest to once more fervently stir betwixt her hips. pupils bloom, nearly eclipsing the woodsy brown circled about them as a breath quietly, shakily drifts free-- there's no hiding that she wants it, needs it as he surely feels how wet she's gotten, hips giving a slight writhe of their own accord in response.

it's all she can do to nod, startled by her own inability to find something, anything to say other than ardent permission. )

[ He's still breathing with difficulty as he waits for her reaction, but her tiny little nod is more than enough for him to surge into action, his hand going around her hip without missing a beat, to settle between her legs once more, this time over her underwear.

He's barely thinking as he presses two fingers to her clit through her panties, his eyes travelling all over her face, taking in every single reaction, wanting to make sure he's doing exactly what he should. He wants nothing than to see rapture on her face, see her lose control, if only for a moment.

He circles her clit with two fingers before going down, slipping past the barrier of her underwear to tease her again, and then going back to her clit, skin to skin this time. ]

Good?

( the way he looks at her is unparalleled, leaving her no less than raw and utterly exposed to his every touch just as he had been for her— and as much as that may unsettle her at any other time, in bed with any other man, with baby it's a rushed relief. something she's sought for far too long only to find it falling into her lap, the way she feels for him, the things she feels for him only serving to emphasize every circle pad of his digits take to her clit.

it takes a great deal of focus to keep herself upright, arm tensed where it holds her upper half in place, lower sitting for what she can in the straddle he's created of spread thighs. she's always been a greedy girl when it came to pleasure, though he isn't met with the dominance she may usually flare with, but instead a hushed gratitude for anything he's willing to give her.

there's a huff of an exhale, eyes giving a sultry roll heavenward the moment they fall into a close again, biting at the inner of her cheek. ) Yes- ( voice is tempted to break, fingertips gathering enough slick the nearer they draw to her cunt to make that sensitive bud all the more receptive to every swipe. )

[ Emboldened, Baby grins, lips curving up higher as he makes his next move, using a high thrust to roll the two of them over, settling himself on top of Izzy, her raven hair spilling out all over his sheets.

He doubles down on his efforts, pressing his thumb to her clit as he pushes one, then two fingers inside her, now entirely focused on her pleasure. Usually, he'd prefer seeing her come before looking at getting himself off, but they've never done anything in order, he and Izzy; he's not surprised they're not starting now. ]

Your turn to let go, Izzy.

( there's a startled little gasp that escapes her in how suddenly, how swiftly he manages to land her back to the cushion of the mattress, hair splayed in a dark, tousled halo and sooty flickering open once more. it's the most gratifying form of overwhelming, not one but two of those lean, deft digits of his sinking into the hot, waiting clasp of her-- and it's all she can do to give a pronounced, sharp arch from the bed beneath him, huff out a moan that blooms from no more than an appreciative hum.

she needs something to grasp, something to keep her grounded, and so a single palm seeks to thread through his hair, raveling at the back of his skull to gather a steady grip while the other finds purchase at his side. she keeps him close, mouth near hers as if waiting to use it in efforts of muffling the noises already gathering. ) God, baby.

( it just so happens that her go-to endearment within the veil of pleasure happens to be his ~~name~~. )

[ Seeing pleasure on her face is intoxicating; the kind of privilege he wants to cherish for the rest of his days. He's a little dumbstruck by the fact that he is, in fact, getting her there, to that point where she moans his name and pull at his hair, her lips parted and her back arched into his touch. It's overwhelming in how beautiful she is - still fully dressed, her underwear just pushed off to the side, her dress gathered up around her hips. ]

You - are so beautiful.

[ It's the most sincere words he's ever said in his life, completely heartfelt and honest, and he says them as he pushes his fingers deeper inside her, curling them as he drags them out slowly, hoping to hit her most sensitive spot as he does. ]

( it's a daze in which she registers his words, delayed and fallen asunder to the way those fingers press in that littlest bit further, teasing her limits and those treasured spots of hers as they curl outward. her body speaks for a tongue rendered useless, bow of spine leaving their midsections brushed together, thighs falling thoughtlessly to the side, the slightest tug given to brunet strands within her grasp.

it's the only way she knows to voice what it is he's doing to her, how unfamiliar she is to it all-- that affectionate praise left in a breath from his mouth, how attentive he is to each and every one of her reactions to find the utmost means of pleasing her. it's the submission she counters it with, how she gives him the entirety of her trust and reign to discover her however he wishes that's telling on her own part.

she's too drawn to the way he keeps hues aligned with hers, exhale nearly trembling through her chest, as if every muscle within her has drawn taut to so welcome an intrusion only to slowly, slowly fall willing to his ministrations. )

[ The surprising thing, to Baby, is how surprised Isabelle herself looks. Like she can barely believe he'd worship her for hours on end, when he can't think of anything he'd rather do. His hand on her doesn't stop, fingers moving in and out in a steady rhythm, as he leans in close, kissing down along Isabelle's collarbones and down, to the swell of her breasts, through the fabric of her dress. He can feel her bra underneath, his free hand tracing her contours, trailing along her side, to the small of her back.

He finds the zipper almost by accident, but once he does, he's quick to pull it down, not hesitating for a second. Even though he's, himself, basically fully dressed, the desire to see her undone by his hands is too strong not to follow. So he pulls down the zipper slowly, and pulls at her dress, sliding it down one arm. Just looking at Isabelle, he smiles, tender. ]

I've never seen you speechless before.

( there were many that came to such decisive feelings about izzy, baby certainly wasn't the first: surprise. despite the brazen way in which she held herself, the inky black of her hair and boasting red of her lips, outfits that commanded attention and suggested comfort-confidence, there were not many pieces of her that weren't soft. she held passion between her teeth, a heart swollen far too large to fit so petite a frame, and no differently did she give herself to another in bed as she did at their side, in defense.

maybe he doesn't realize just how exposed she is, how open, how terrifying it is to look up at him like this and not be able to tear herself away. despite the shiver that kisses up her spine as he strokes her into her, consistent and determined, the way he praises her side and soon after lets cotton fabric of her dress fall along her shoulder. a snicker, airy and interrupted by a near-silent gasp— )

Are you disappointed?

( lighthearted enough to be taken as gentle teasing, teeth revealing just a moment to a smile once more before she's biting to same lips, hips giving a subtle write upward against his wrist. )

Fuck, no. [ He curses rarely; under duress and anger that he dislikes feeling, usually, or in times like these, where he is so overwhelmed he can't think of any better word to convey his feelings. Because he is not disappointed; he is surprised and taken and enthralled and listening in to every gasp, every breath, every tick of her heart, her body singing in ways that mean more to him than most.

He exposes her shoulder and looks up, grins at Isabelle through the haze of arousal clouding his vision. ]

Not complaining at all. [ He puts his lips to her shoulder, his hand moving down to her thigh, lifting her leg to fit around his hip, changing the angle of his fingers inside her just so. He circles his thumb over her clit, moving his fingers deep and slow. He kisses his way along the curve of her shoulder, tasting skin, and travels up to her ear, nose against the shell of it. ]

What will it take to make you completely lose it, Isabelle? Tell me what I should do.

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