bloodyrockgod | (no subject)

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The suite is still a suite, though Charlie's been thinking about converting it back to a single room. But maybe he'll want a roommate . . .

Or have a room available for Seth while Charlie entertains elsewhere.

He hsuts the door behind Claire and smiles at her as he puts his guitar away. "Is he sleepy?"

[ooc: canon happens. adult content.]

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"Maybe," she teases. "But you can rest for awhile if you want."

It's not an altogether bad idea to her either, really.

"That's very gracious of you." He stretches and yawns. "Wouldn't hurt to get some water, either."

In a minute. He doesn't want to move quite yet.

No. No moving. Yet.

"Water would be nice," she nods as her hand slips around his waist, hugging him.

"Garcon?" He looks around. "Blast. The service here is terrible."

She giggles. "I'd get up but I don't think I can feel my legs, still."

"Oh dear, poor little legs," he coos and rubs the bottom of his foot up her calf.

". . . Are you calling me short?"

"You're pocket-sized." He kisses the top of her head again. "We fit perfectly."

"We are pretty wee," she agrees, and ignores the emotion she feels at the second thing he said.

"I don't suppose I really need the water," she muses, squeezing him affectionately.

Charlie hums "I will bring you water" and kisses her some more.

Mm, she likes kissing. And she likes kissing him, especially.

"Careful," she warns eventually. "Or we might not be getting so much rest after all."

"Sleep is for the weak," he murmurs, kissing her neck.

She tilts her head to give him better access and her hand creeps down to his hip, and then lower, her touch gentler than it was earlier.

"Well, that's probably true," she murmurs.

His hips shift and he smiles, chuckling deeply. His mouth moves lower, soft kisses along her collar bones.

Sighing. Humming. Moaning. She makes a whole song out of soft, mewling noises as she turns them so she's on her back and he's on top of her.

"Like this, this time," she says quietly, helping him settle between her legs.

He nods, eyes dark, and enters her gently. He watches her, running fingertips over her heart-shaped face.

She smiles up at him, letting him set the tempo this time, and she doesn't take her eyes off him, either.

Charlie.

Charlie is slow, careful, as if lost in wonder. He is not smiling but his face has never looked so open and soft.

You'll always be a part of me, she thinks, but does not say, because now is not the time for words.

Instead, she shows him with her body, moving with him, against him, for him, really. Her fingers find the small of his back and dig in, carefully.

He shivers, a smile ghosting over his lips, and in retaliation raises her legs to tilt her body up. His thought is just Deeper. Deeper.

Yessss, she thinks or sighs or something, if she could be bothered to care, but she cannot because her eyes have fluttered closed and she's biting her lip, and just. . .

Yesss. Deeper is very good.

"Oh, yes, a stóirín, that's good, let me hear you. Tell me it feels good. Tell me how it feels."

"It feels. . .God, Charlie, it feels like. . ." she arches her back, pressing her skin to his, needing to feel every inch of him she can reach.

"Beautiful," he whispers to her, kissing her, hands stroking her. "Beautiful girl. I love the way you feel."

"Yes," she says, outloud, and she knows because she hears it, feels it.

"God, Charlie," and she turns her head so he won't he see the tears, because maybe he wouldn't understand. Or maybe he would.

She isn't sure, really, which she'd rather be the case.