Raylan Givens (
itwasjustified) wrote2010-06-27 01:24 am
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[[ lexington, kentucky ]]
[ "how do you feel about wings?" ]Raylan wipes the last of the grease from his fingers and crumples the paper napkin.
With a lazy toss, he nails the nearby wastebasket.
He reaches for his glass of sweet iced tea, and his eyes slide from what's left of their dinner to Reese.
"Got a verdict yet?"
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An audible, somewhat muffled sound rises up in her throat and she grinds against him again, pulling back with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips to start working on her own collared shirt. There's a slight tremble in her fingers as they work open each button.
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Shifting just so beneath her, he kicks off his boots; they hit the carpet with dull, twin thuds.
He lifts his hands to hers, covering her fingers with his, and helps free the last of the stubborn buttons.
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She shrugs her shoulders back, the sleeves of the shirt sliding down in a whisper of fabric, slipping off and falling somewhere - likely to join those heavy boots on the floor. She bends low to him again, the fingers of one hand splayed over his chest (over his heartbeat).
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It's similar to something Winona used to use, but it's different enough to be pure Dani, so the memory slides to the back of his brain as easily as his palms travel up her sides.
His fingertips ride the ridges of her ribs, slow and certain; one hand returns to her nape, drawing her closer for a deep, unhurried kiss.
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She fights it away and kisses him back, fingertips trailing down his chest and stomach, mapping out the curves and slopes of muscle beneath skin.
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He half-groans, instead, and sits upright with smooth but careful ease. Keeping her close on his lap, his mouth dips to her throat, and one thumb traces the swell of her breast.
"You tell me," he says, voice low and rough at its edges, catching on her satin-soft skin, "if this goes anywhere you don't want it to."
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Her arms wind around him, dark curls sliding forward over her shoulders and tickling against his cheek.
"You'll know," she promises, inhaling sharply, "if it does."
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His hand slips lower, cupping her breast; the pad of his thumb circles her nipple through the fabric of her bra.
His free hand slides down her spine, and his fingertips play along the small of her back, just above her waistband.
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Her own roam low, bumping into the barrier of his belt, and her hands make quick work of it with a few accompanying clinking sounds.
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"You're a dangerous woman, Dani Reese."
He eases back again, sinking slowly onto the mattress; drawing her with him, he rolls so he's on top of her.
"You should've warned me," he says into her clavicle.
He shifts his weight over her and drags his mouth lower, stubble scraping her skin.
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She hitches her leg up against his hip, rocking upward in an obvious response.
(Out of the two of them, anyway, she's not completely sure who's the more dangerous.)
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Her bra joins his boots on the floor.
"Maybe I did," he says, and lowers his head to tease her with the tip of his tongue.
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"Knew it," she breathily manages.
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"Did you?"
He moves his mouth to her other breast; he carefully draws her nipple between his teeth, and a flick of his tongue immediately follows to soothe any would-be sting.
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She hisses at the sting, then sighs when he follows it with whatever he does with his tongue, fingers sliding up into his hair and palm cupping the back of his head.
"Maybe."
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He's mumbling into her skin, lips trailing to her ribs and stomach.
Once her pants are open and unzipped, he strokes her stomach. His fingers stop just shy of her underwear, and his mouth meets her navel.
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A lazy smile graces her lips, and she tilts her head to glance down her shoulder at him.
"Now you're just teasing."
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One hand slides between her legs, cupping her through her pants, giving her pressure and friction with his palm and its heel, but no real relief.
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"I changed my mind," she replies, hips jutting up with a mind of their own.
"Now - now you're teasing."
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His actions speak louder than those words; he eases her pants down her hips, his mouth following in their wake, until he's kissing the crease of her thigh while one thumb slips inside her underwear, seeking out her clit.
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"Always so polite."
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His thumb finds her clit beneath her underwear; he circles it lightly, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her stomach.
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She draws her lower lip in with her teeth, hissing softly when his lips find a ticklish spot near her hipbone.
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Her underwear falls somewhere near the haphazard pile of discarded clothes on the floor, and Raylan dips his head once more.
Breathing her in, his focus funnels; he tongues her in featherlight flicks, first, and eases a finger inside her.
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Her toes curl slightly, though, and what she lacks in curses she makes up for in soft, surprised sounds.
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