Girl still has a job. Down there on the cutting edge of trendy, literally: where new urban hip starts to blend into the rundown periurban decay. Hooked on Colfax it's called, and it's a few blocks from the cathedral.
Wolf still has a job too. It's one he gave himself. Comes here and keeps this cathedral safe. Sweeps a few blocks around too. Looks out, indirectly, for the elderly who come here. The young parents, the kids. Sometimes slips a few hundred dollars into the collection box, because what else is he going to use all his unearned money for.
Comes out of an alleyway now. Keen as a hound, wary, looking this way and that. Bloodstains on his hands and cuts on his knuckles. Maybe more on his arms but can't tell with that jacket; pretty soon can't see his hands either because he shoves them in the pockets of his jeans. Turns up his collar, lowers his head, walks.
Walks a few blocks west. Crosses the street. Bumps the door open with his foot and steps into that stylishly warm indie cafe. Finds himself a seat in the back, not far from where he sat last time. Looks around for girl, of course. Maybe he thinks he'll get another muffin.
DevonWindy as hell tonight. Blows trees enough to bend them, sends windchimes into a tizzy. Girl's at work and looks like they might close soon: she's helping clean the espresso machine. Hair is all up, but messily so. Tendrils and locks hang down without care, and there's a clasp in there someplace that glints occasionally. Wears grey jeans and her old Converse and a dusky blue tank top. Necklaces stacked on top off each other, same with her rubber bracelets and other cheap jewelry from places like H&M.
Glances up when Rafael enters. Gives him a little upward nod.
--
They are closing. But they've seen him a couple of times or Devon has said something; no one offers to take his order or asks him to leave. Eventually she comes over, carrying a napkin but not a plate and a muffin left over from the morning that she's warmed up a little. It's blueberry.
She cocks her head. "Hey."
RafaelWolf greets the small snack with the same well-reined delight. Barely there unless you look, and unless you know him. Then you see it: straightening up a little in his seat. Faint faint little smile at the corners of his mouth. He breaks it in half, gives half back to her as he stands.
"Was around," he says by way of explanation. "Thought I'd give you a ride home."
DevonDevon shakes her head at the muffin, stepping back to give him room to get out of the table, the booth, whatever. She smiles up at him, that thin little smirk of hers.
"You're such a boyfriend," she says.
RafaelWolf quirks an eyebrow. Trying to see if she's serious or sarcastic or what. Then he just shrugs, taking a big bite out of the half the muffin. Folds the other half up in the napkin, puts it in his pocket.
"I am a boyfriend. Yours, specifically." Now he smirks back. Jerks his head at the door, eating the last of the half-muffin. "Come on."
DevonTips her head back at the counter. "Have to finish," she says, seeming amused. "I'll be out in a bit."
--
Which she is. They start wiping tables and turning chairs onto them and locking things up. When the lights finally go off and the front door opens, the other barista goes with the manager to her car since she has the deposit. Devon, now wearing a flannel as a jacket and wind blowing her hair over her face, comes up over to wherever Rafael is waiting. Looks up at him again, because she has to, because he's rather large.
"Want to go to yours?" she asks, idle. "Watch a movie?"
Rafael"All right," wolf says, all offhanded. "Go earn your keep."
--
Finds him outside when she's done. Leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. Straightens up when he sees her coming, and then there's inches and inches between them, and she's looking up at him with those astounding blue eyes.
He leans down. No preamble, just does it. Bumps his brow to hers, that rough unspoken affection of his. His hand slides around her waist. He kisses her.
Steps back, then, finds her hand with his. "Sure. Miss finding your old movies on my Netflix."
DevonAlways thinks he's going to kiss her like a normal person before he does that. He leans down and she's half-closed her eyes and her lips part but bonk. That soft bump first. She blinks, eyes startling open again as she slips his arm around her, and she looks at him, and then he does kiss her.
Devon leans against his chest then, closing her eyes again. Drinks.
--
As they separate, hands sliding together, feet turning the same direction, she tips her head to peer at him. "Really? Why?"
RafaelHalf a sorry gets out. Sor-- and then she's climbing onto him, using his body for balance and leverage. Wolf likes that too. Puts his hands on her as she rises, moves over him.
Takes her by the waist. Grips her ass, grasps her thighs. She kisses him and here's zero hesitation on either end. He kisses her back, hungrily as ever. Eyes closed, mouth open. Her hands cup his face like he's something precious to her, to be protected and kept close. Strange, because that's how he feels about her most the time.
Even if he's rough with her sometimes. Even if he forgets in the heat of the moment.
Wolf draws back a little. Turns his head, breaking the kiss but not their contact. His brow to hers still. His breath washing just past her cheek.
"Sorry," he finishes. Important that he says it: "Don't mean to hurt you." Looks at her then. Puts his hand on her cheek, thumb sweeping her lips. "Know that, right?"
DevonGod, she's so soft. And naked. And wet. Can't feel it right now. Isn't touching her there. No matter: he'll know soon. Knows already how soft she is, how mesmerizing it can be to touch her. Her breasts brush against his chest when they kiss. Soft. Naked. Wet. Lush.
Kisses him again after that first one, harder. Presses into him this time, her legs opening further. But they ease back. He draws back, all but panting. Or just: panting. She rubs the tip of her nose against his cheek, kissing him there, kissing his ear. He's talking.
Says he's sorry. And that he doesn't mean to hurt her. Devon draws back slowly, one of her hands still on his face. And one of his hands is on hers. She nods.
"Know that," she says softly. Leans in and kisses his mouth, very gentle. "I'm all right. Next time just say stop. I'll stop."
She means that, but the corner of her mouth tugs in an almost-smile a second later. She turns her face to his other cheek, kissing them there as well. "Why'd you want me to stop, anyway?" she wants to know, as she reaches for his hand. Laces her fingers with his. Draws it down her body, guiding his fingertips between her legs.
Naked. Wet. Lush.
Can see that spark go off in her eyes, first time his finger slides over her pussy. Her lips part with a sudden exhale, but she doesn't stop looking at him.
RafaelWolf's eyes are open for this kiss. Eyelashes sweep down but not all the way. Dimly, green glints from behind that screen. Glitters as his eyes open again -- she's drawing back.
Takes his hand. He lets her. His fingers wrap around hers; slide between. He leans forward and kisses her over her heart, and meanwhile
she draws his hand over her skin. His thumb indents her flesh ever so slightly -- the tautness of her skin, the softness of her body. He rubs his cheek against her. Watches as she pulls him down, down, and he knows where she's going so he sits back to watch her.
Sees that flare in her eyes. Like fireworks from afar. He doesn't stop watching her either: not even when he leans up. Kisses her.
"Was about to come," he answers, rough and honest.
Touches her: not so roughly. God, he's almost -- he is gentle this time. Touches her so lightly, so tenderly; slides the pads of his fingers over and between, around and around. Lifts his face to hers. Kisses her the same way, lightly, grazingly, never closing his eyes. Watches her like he's fascinated by her face. Her expressions. The changing light in those astonishing eyes.
DevonHe kisses her again and she can't kiss him back. Her mouth is open, her breath coming a little faster, a little more full. She's guiding his hand at first, stroking him over her pussy. It's really only when she senses how gentle he's being, how careful, that she lets go of him. Puts both her hands on his body: his shoulder, his chest.
Takes her a few moments to answer him. Panting: "Like it when you come, though."
A hitch in her voice at the word, the thought of it, that tightens her up and lifts her pitch: "Love making you come."
RafaelWolf snorts. Nevermind that he's kissing her right then: snorts anyway. "Yeah well." Nips at her lips. "Told me not to come in your mouth."
See: he does pay attention.
Girl's hands on his body then. Holding onto his shoulder. Touching his chest. Balancing herself, or maybe just making contact. He has his hands on her too. Hand on her hip, smoothing around. Fingers splaying over her ass, forearm along her thigh: supporting, cradling.
Touching her. Stroking her, finding a rhythm or at least -- the right spots. Can tell he finds it because she's not subtle about her. Can hear it in her voice, a certain breathlessness in her words. Wolf leans forward, kisses her breastbone, rubs his face there the way he likes to. Takes her nipple into his mouth, sucks at her. Uses his tongue.
Has her in his mouth still when he mutters, muffled:
"Wanna lie back for me?"
DevonThat makes her laugh, soft and breathy, catching at the end as his fingertip slides over her clit. She gives him a kiss. She smiles, drowsily. "Doesn't mean you can't come, silly."
Never called him silly before. Kisses him again, deeper, not the tender little thing of a moment ago. Drinks in his breath as he touches her, starting to move like she's riding him. Just his hand, though. Makes a sound into his mouth, sighs as he parts from her, rubbing his face against her chest, reveling in her skin if not her scent. Devon shudders when he sucks on her nipple, licks her. She leans in closer, pressing her tit into his mouth.
Yum.
"What?" she gasps a little later. Maybe he clarifies. Maybe she just translates it, slowly, through the haze of arousal. Lie back. She shivers a little, slow and warm, turning her head to kiss his neck. "Thought you liked it when I rode you," she murmurs, teasingly. Must be teasing, because she kisses him again on his throat before she shifts away, unfolding from his lap, turning on the couch and laying down, head on some throw pillow, propped against the arm of the couch. Reaches for him, or holds out her arms, her hands, thinking he means to fuck her now.
RafaelDoesn't know what to say to that. Confused by her teasing. Bemused by her -- well. By how fucking hot she is, and how fucking hot she makes him, rubbing on his hand like that. She presses against him. He kisses, sucks, licks her breasts. Squeezes her ass; plays with her cunt.
Mutters for her to lie back. What, she wants to know, which makes him grin darkly. Makes him suck at her nipple just a little harder, just to hear her gasp, before she kisses him. Lifts away. He lets her go, eyes gleaming. Licks her taste off his fingers while she lays herself out.
"Yeah," he admits: he does like it. "But wanna taste it."
Takes her hands, lacing his fingers with hers. Rises up on the couch, knees sinking into the cushioning; leans over her as their fingers come apart. Her hands sliding up his forearms. His palms covering her breasts, sliding down to her waist. Taking her by the hips and shifting her, lifting her right off the couch.
Licks her for the first time like that: raised up on his hands, balance between his strength and the couch. Quick, darting, tasting lap of his tongue. Pauses to nose deeper, as though to hunt for her ever-elusive scent; murmurs some muffled growl against that wet little cunt. They sink against the couch then: his hands lowering her, the thick-bunched muscles in his back and shoulders twisting as flexing as he lowers himself to her. Sprawls out on his stomach, feet hanging off the edge of the couch. Uses the pad of his thumb to draw back the hood of her clit; uses the tip of his tongue to part her lips.
Maybe he has done this before after all. Or at least fucking googled something about proper technique, who knows. Careful with her this time. Doesn't pry her open, doesn't treat her like so much meat. Gentle with her: tender, yeah? Licks her from slit to clit, bottom to top; long and slow. Laps at her luxuriously and patiently, stroke after stroke, pausing only to murmur, "Tell me how."
Rafael[ERP DELETE LAS TWOO LIENS]
DevonDevon can't think of a single time they've been like this together. A little playful. Chatting. Mostly: taking their time. Not just slowing down once he's inside of her to enjoy it, but enjoying everything else first. It makes her smile. She keeps smiling at him tonight, nuzzling and touching him. She's not subtle about her pleasure, or her delight. He's pleasing her. He's delighting her.
And when he licks her fingers to get her taste she thinks she's going to come. No waiting, not even any fucking. She pants a breath out and if she could reach him now she'd kiss him very hard but he's crawling over her, taking her hands and climbing over her. Devon's cheeks are pink from arousal, from expectation, and her hands do run up his arms, and she shivers again when he lifts her breasts in his hands, touches her sides, smooth, soft.
Lifts her up a little. Lowers himself. And then leans in between her legs and forgive her, but she tenses. The only time he's gotten his mouth near her cunt it hurt, his fingers were so rough and he didn't seem like he intended to pleasure her as chew her up and devour her, and for Devon it was not sexy or enjoyable at all -- in fact, it made her wary of letting a creature like him get his teeth on her, anywhere, for a while after that. Still a bit unsure about letting him do this now.
It takes a choice to trust him now, instead of squirming away. Takes a choice. She reacts, quiveringly, when he first licks her, but that quick and almost sharp little flash of his tongue doesn't do much for her. Nor his nose, really. For a moment it sort of tickles. But he growls and that worries her but it also sends low vibrations through her cunt and makes her clench up, makes her wet, makes her body shudder.
More comfortable when he lowers her down. He can feel some of the inherent tension flow out of her lower body, just as he can feel those intermittent tremors of unease when he touches her, makes her so very very vulnerable, makes her so very open. She makes a noise like a whimper, uncertain, as he slides the tip of his tongue between her labia.
RafaelGirl's so uncertain. Wary of him. Makes his heart twist in his chest. Makes him pause, tongue quivering against her clit -- and then pulling away. Drawing up on his elbows, looking up her body to her eyes.
Kisses her low on her abdomen. Kisses her gentle and warm, his lips pressing to her skin.
"What's wrong?" -- scarcely more than a whisper.
Devon"It's all right," she whispers back, panting still. In between shivers of tension and noises of uncertainty there were shudders of lust, gasps of need. Still there. "I want you to."
It's just
"Last time --" Devon admits, and he may not know what she means, or remember. She does, though, and for her it's mostly a memory of him trying to snarl and devour her cunt. Her yelping, twisting away, curling up against the headboard.
She doesn't really know how to put this into words without derailing everything. Wanting him and being wary of him. Seems like all she ever does is ask him to go slower, be gentler. Sometimes she wonders when he's going to get fed up with it, because he gets fed up easily.
She could probably put it into words. She doesn't want to.
RafaelLast time.
Wolf lays his lips against her skin. Rubs his face there a little -- beard bristle and all. "I know," he says. She doesn't have to finish. He knows. "Be careful with you. Promise."
And moving down again. And putting his mouth on her, so gently: wrapping his lips around her clit, tonguing that exquisitely sensitive spot. His eyes are on her, looking up over the slopes and curves of her body; the organic motion of her, arch of back, shudder of abdomen. Reaches up, touches her breasts. Holds one cradled in his palm as he kisses her, licks her.
Careful with her this time. Doesn't pry her open, doesn't treat her like so much meat. Gentle with her: tender, yeah? Licks her from slit to clit, bottom to top; long and slow. Laps at her luxuriously and patiently, stroke after stroke, pausing only to murmur, "Tell me how."
DevonHis stupid unshaven face rubbing on her skin makes Devon's belly tighten up, her flesh involuntarily moving away from the scratchiness. She looks down at him, sad for being wary, and her fingers touch his head, brush over his brow, as he makes his soft little promises. An exhale leaves her, slowly, because those soft little promises turn her on, too.
"Oh--!" when he sucks on her like that, pressing the tip of his tongue gently on her clit, working her with his mouth. Muscles in her hips tighten up and relax, arching her somewhat for a moment. Again, as he goes on touching her, as he goes on kissing her pussy even more gently than he's ever kissed Devon on the mouth. Her fingers push and spread into his hair, running as slowly as his tongue.
She thinks maybe he looked something up about this. Had to have. And that's one of her last thoughts for a few seconds, while he licks her like that, slow and tender and erotic. He tells her to tell him how. She doesn't hear him at first. She's just lying there, her fingertips occasionally massaging his scalp, her hips occasionally shifting on the couch. Her skin is flushed. Her eyes are closed. And she is molten.
Hears him eventually, either because he tells her again or because the words finally swim through her mind and make sense. She whimpers softly, a thoroughly different noise than before, but it's another couple of heartbeats before she can tell him: "Like that. Keep --" her lips press together, stifling an outcry as he sucks softly on her clit again. When her lips open again she pants, gasping: "Keep doing that."
RafaelGirl's got her hands in his hair. Girl's just about lost her hold on the world. It's because of something he's doing to her, and for her. It's because he's treating her gently, and tenderly, and erotically, and lovingly.
New sort of realization to have. The connections: a to b to c. New sort of feeling to have: to hold this sort of primitive, bone-deep influence over someone and not have it be about power or cost or someone always wanting to take something from you. Wolf closes his eyes, same as the girl. They both focus on the physical and the sensory. Taste of her slick. Grip of her hands. Shiver in her thighs and the accompanying gasps that she can't seem to contain.
Goes on for a while. Eventually he wraps his hands around her thighs. Hold her gently, firmly open. Never does use his fingers on her; doesn't fuck her with his hands, doesn't massage her, nothing. Just his mouth. Just his tongue, which proves surprisingly tireless considering how little he speaks. Just his lips, tip of his nose, heat of his mouth; and always his tongue again, slow-lapping or flickering, licking, sucking.
Wolf wants her to come. Wants to see her let go like that. Doesn't pursue it, though. Doesn't chase it down with singleminded intensity, the sort that might make her quail and withdraw. It's just slow. It's just lazy, and patient, and inexorable. He enjoys her and adores her like this, and he wants her to come, but more than that he wants her to know: she is loved. And valued. And cared for. And he is not careless with her or her feelings.
DevonDoesn't mind losing her grip on the world. Has his hair to hold onto. Has his arms wrapped around her, keeping her close, supporting her, warming her. She rests her feet on his sides, whimpering in rhythm to his licking. Turns out she likes it just like this: just slow, just easy. Soft. No poking her or fucking her with his tongue. Sometimes teasing her with the tip a little, tonguing her, but even then it's a sweet, gentle thing. Never asks him to use his fingers. Never really starts riding his face or grinding against his tongue. She doesn't bounce and scream and swear or scratch at him or anything.
It's incredibly tender. Not just the way he is with her. The way she responds. The way it makes her feel, melting away on his couch, sweating skin to skin with him. He can only tell how close she's getting by the way she tastes, and by the way she begins to squirm, the way her whimpers get closer together, the way her breathing quickens, the way her heart pounds against his hand when he touches her breast, holds her in his hand. And Devon doesn't push him away or pull him up or warn him in words. She just starts gasping faster, her body tensing up.
All told, she takes a long time. Long enough that he might have a crick in his neck, an ache in his shoulders. Long enough that his jaw might be sore. Or might not be any of those things: he's not mortal. But she's so slow, so wet. It's trancelike, the way she ebbs and flows. It's like the tide, just as primordial and -- it seems -- as inevitable. But it does come. She does come. And by the time she does there is a shimmer of sweat all over her body. By the time she comes her cheeks and her breasts and her thighs and belly are pink and heated. Her cunt is dripping. It's a slow, warm orgasm, flowing through her body, rolling second after second after second.
She doesn't scream, even. Her head is tilted back and she's crying out but it's just a touch more heightened than the whimpers she's been giving for the last godknowshowmany minutes. At the very end she does rub herself against his mouth, her noises dipping towards a sort of low, tight groan.
And afterward she can't move. She's not just limp, she's worn out. She's exhausted, her eyes closed and her body shaking.
RafaelWolf never does go any faster. Never fucks her harder, tongues her more insistently -- any of that. Just goes along with it. Just works her slow and gradual and, in his own gentle way, relentless. Builds her up and brings her off and when she finally comes, he's reminded of a wave. Cresting. Spilling over. Slipping apart.
Licks her through it. Kisses her, wraps his lips around her clit, sucks her the way he does: a gradual steady pressure punctuated by the touch of his tongue. Takes her through it, over her climax and back down the other side. Hears her crying out. Feels the actual moment of release; the ripple of relaxation through all her body. Those pulses through her cunt, exquisitely felt against the sensitivity of his lips, his tongue. Growls with her as, finally, she rubs herself against his face. Rides his mouth.
Laps at her afterward, languid as can be, his tongue sweeping over every inch, every millimeter, every quivering fold. Licks up the taste of her like he's washing her clean -- very slow, very slow, aware and conscientious of how hyperacute her senses must be now.
Eventually he pulls himself up a bit. Lays his head down on her abdomen, his chest to her inner thighs, her cunt. Wolf still has a hand on her breast and he fondles her softly even now -- lazily, not going anywhere. Plays with her nipple: tips of his fingers, flat of his palm.
Turns his head. Kisses her skin. Rubs his face there a little the way he likes to, like he's picking up her scent but of course that's not it. Looks up at her: her closed eyes, the exhausted rapture in her face. Little by little he crawls up over her, lays himself out alongside her. Wraps his arms around her and turns on his back. Pulls her against his chest, squeezed together on that couch.
DevonOh, how she quivers. She's trembling and after he's cleaning her and she can't quite handle it but she doesn't pull away. It almost makes her cry, she's so overwhelmed, but she doesn't. She feels how careful he is, circling her clit but leaving it alone, letting it pulse as she comes down. He's just licking her clean. She softens, and catches her breath, and finally opens her eyes, just a little, looking down at him.
He's covering her. Holding her, and touching her breast. Rubbing against her, and then crawling up over her, holding her close to his chest. Devon looks slightly drunk. She breathes more slowly now, more regularly, looking at him through some sort of haze she couldn't describe if she wanted to. She stares at him, and he kisses her, and her lips try to smile but never quite find the energy.
One of her hands lifts, slowly, as though moving through water. She strokes his cheek with the backs of her fingers.
"No one's ever done that before," she murmurs.
RafaelWolf closes his eyes to the stroke of her fingers. Not the first time she's done that. Feels so intimate every time.
Opens his eyes again. He's surprised. Then his eyebrows draw together; a frown, acheful. "No one?" he repeats. Nuzzles her, brief but warm. Settles back and stares at that high, spacious ceiling. "They should've."
DevonNo one?
Devon gives a little shake of her head, stroking him still. Her eyes are still glassy, glazed. "Some kissing. Fingering. Some tongue-poking. Not... that."
Not pleasuring her. Not laying down and listening. Not staying with her. Hard to hear even the vaguest indication of past experiences, and she seems to feel awkward mentioning it, but she doesn't want to lie and say no one's mouth has ever been near my pussy ever. But always before -- and there's not much in that 'always' -- there'd be a rather immediate stopping point, as though due diligence having been performed, it was now time to fuck. Doesn't sound like a complaint, except for the tongue-poking bit. Devon hasn't ever talked much about sex. They don't talk much about sex. Or past experience. Or even what they like and don't like, before the fact. Or after.
She snuggles closer to him. That's what it is: snuggling. Curling up and cuddling to him, in his arms and against his chest.
Tries to find a way to put into words what she's thinking. Not easy right now; her brain is still in pieces.
"Don't care if they did," she murmurs. Good enough.
RafaelIt's that last thing that draws it into focus for him. Eases the ache. Connects the dots. He gets it. She didn't care if they did. Opens a link to his own experiences. How he felt about them.
Wolf's arm encircles her. Fingertips stroke idly through her hair -- lifting strands, letting them fall. "Guess I haven't really done that much either," he admits. Amends: "Hardly ever. Never like that.
"Guess I never really cared to," he finishes, and leaves it there.
DevonDoesn't matter if they did. Matters that he did. Glad he did, but not sure how to put that into words either without sounding sappy.
Also, just: words are hard right now.
Devon lifts up a little and kisses his chin, nuzzles him despite his bristle, and then settles once more, closing her eyes. Lets him hold her, and lets herself be happy with that. Listens to his voice through his chest, the rumble and the deep sea swell of his breathing. Her hair has dried much more since she came downstairs and put her hands all up his shirt. Still wet though, still damp. Sweaty at the hairline.
One of her eyes opens, her hand touching his mid-back. Thinks for a bit, before she murmurs: "Like it?"
RafaelWolf thinks a while. Slow animal blinks, looking up at the ceiling. Maybe he's thinking about those very moments right now. How she came down the stairs, hair wet, fresh clothes. Put her hands under his shirt. Rolled it up. Kissed his skin.
Led him to the couch. Sat him down. Sucked him until he had to stop her, because -- because he was silly like that. Corners of his mouth twitch. He laughs to himself; it's completely unrelated. Laugh dies a natural death and he looks at her, something bold in the meeting of their eyes.
"Love it," he says.
DevonStarted like something else entirely. Sort of. He came by and she was glad to see him. Decided as soon as he was sitting in the booth at Hooked that she wanted to go back to his place with him, and that she wanted to fuck tonight. And when she came downstairs and started hugging him and he was reacting the way he did, breathing the way he did just because she was touching him -- that's when she decided she was going to give him a blowjob. Thought he probably would stop her, and then she'd fuck him, and -- so on.
Just a fun little night in, really. Maybe have some pizza or some other cruddy frozen food he'd heat up, some beers. Watch some Netflix and cuddle. Make out under a blanket, fall asleep, wake up at the credits, go up to his bed and curl up in a tangle of warm limbs and soft sheets. A really nice night, to be honest. With her big dumb stupid-faced boyfriend who she's pretty sure thinks she hung the moon in the sky because he loves her so, admires her so, adores her.
Sometimes she has good days and she just sort of knows all these things. That he is big and dumb and loves her so, so much.
--
This was not 'better'. This was just... good. And unexpected. And strange. And good.
Devon still looks a little drunk when he looks down to her. She's really sort of nestled against his chest, not quite hiding there. But to look right at her he has to pull his chest away, look at her, and she has to lift her chin a little. Does so, when he moves. Looks back at him. Nothing bold in her. No more or less than she is all the rest of the while.
Smile tries to rise to the occasion on her lips. Doesn't quite make it, but it was a valiant effort.
"Good," she mutters, sleepily-happily. "Gonna ask you to do it again."
RafaelWolf lets loose a bit of a laugh. Settles back down. Pulls girl back to where she was, nestled against him. So blown out and exhausted by her own pleasure she barely seems to have the strength to smile.
That makes him feel tenderly toward her too. Protective; loving.
"Gonna take you to bed," he says, though he hasn't started moving yet. And remembering, "Still got burritos in the microwave."
DevonNeither of them bring up the fact that Rafael never came. That they never fucked. He just holds her, and she lets herself be warmly cradled against him. He says he's taking her to bed. That makes her smile. Makes her lips tug at the corners and makes her eyes close again.
He mentions burritos. A couple of seconds later, her stomach growls. "I'm so hungry," she laughs, softly, breathily. Not really for burritos. But she doesn't say that. Maybe he'll feed her and she'll drink some beer and they'll cuddle FOREVER and sleep FOREVER.
RafaelWolf's not entirely witless. Has some inkling she doesn't really appreciate 50-cent frozen burritos the way he does. After all, she was talking about teaching him to cook. Burritos is what he made, though, and burritos are what they'll have. Not particularly inclined to learn how to cook right now, after all.
Laughs a little again. That low vibration in his chest. Then he does move, sitting up. Lifting her legs over his lap as he swings his feet to the floor.
"Come on." He holds his arm out to her: will carry her if she wants. "Grab burritos. Go upstairs."
DevonHer legs go easily, limply, over his lap and over his arm, then. Skinny arms loop around his neck, and damp head lays on his shoulder.
"E duas cervejas," she adds, holding up two fingers, relatively sure that the cadence and intonation of her words and the familiarity of the cognates in Spanish to even native English speakers will get the message across. If not: "With limes."
Smiles at him, and leans over, pressing her nose to his for a moment. "Love you," she mutters, quiet, secretive, hiding the words in his cheekbone.
RafaelSo he does carry her. Takes her into his arms, which aren't skinny at all. Which are thick and hard with muscle, solid with bone. Easily he lifts her, sweeps her right up. She wants two cervejas, and even if he didn't guess what that is, the limes clue him in. He smirks a little -- it's a bit of a grin. White flash of teeth.
That grin folds in on itself when she presses near. Turns into something slighter, smaller, more private. He rubs his face against hers, heavy and feral. Kisses her quick and light.
"Too," he whispers, and hopes she forgives his shorthand.
DevonOh, she forgives him. Doesn't even roll her eyes. She just nestles close to him again. Later on she might think about things like how he never came and how he's carrying her up the stairs like a princess and how that's really stupid and how he's going to bring her burritos and beer in bed and how that's even stupider. Later on she might, maybe tomorrow, but right now she's content. She's absolutely content in her body, and in his stupid townhouse, and in his arms.
Of course she forgives him.
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