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Oct. 10th, 2010 03:53 am[From here]
He hadn't been expecting that. All in all, the fact that Lucy had such an injury stretching across her chest didn't make a big difference. She didn't speak of it or shy from it in a way that might have suggested that she'd played some hand in harming herself, or that anyone in particular had inflicted the wound on her. But it also didn't pass without leaving an impression on Sawyer, his hands suddenly more gentle, if not any less searching. Calloused fingers, worn from too much time climbing about the previous island, carefully traced along the pink line, before Sawyer slid down to press a trail of kisses along her side, not quite over the injury, but close.
To someone who had lost a great deal of people already from the antics of a strange island, the scar was a heavy reminder.
"We," he began, voice rumbling softly against her skin. "Can take it slow. I ain't in a rush." He took the opportunity of the slight break as he shuffled back up to remove his shirt, static snapping as he pulled it over and discarded it over his shoulder, before leaning down to kiss her again. Whereas his hands had been gentle, his tongue still searched feverishly— it wasn't Lucy herself who was weak, just that her body needed recovering.
As far as Lucy could see, it was just about the best response she could have gotten to something like that. Mentally making a note to explain later just how she'd come about such a scar, she found that she couldn't dwell on it for long. Her breath caught in her throat as his mouth met the skin of her chest, and when he moved lower, she was free to tug her own shirt the rest of the way off, one hand already moving to her back to fumble with the clasp of her bra. At the end of the day, this wasn't something new for her. She wouldn't have classified herself as easy, but she still knew what she was doing, as, apparently, did he.
Both articles of clothing were tossed aside onto the floor as he kissed her again, one she returned just as heatedly, bare chest pressing up against his. Maybe she wasn't in a hurry either, but nor was she about to pass up the opportunity for more contact, convinced by now that she had honestly needed this. A hand sliding up his back, fingernails just barely meeting skin, she pulled away only when air became a necessity, and even then, not by much. "Good to know," she murmured against his mouth, cracking a faint smile. "That makes two of us."
He hadn't been expecting that. All in all, the fact that Lucy had such an injury stretching across her chest didn't make a big difference. She didn't speak of it or shy from it in a way that might have suggested that she'd played some hand in harming herself, or that anyone in particular had inflicted the wound on her. But it also didn't pass without leaving an impression on Sawyer, his hands suddenly more gentle, if not any less searching. Calloused fingers, worn from too much time climbing about the previous island, carefully traced along the pink line, before Sawyer slid down to press a trail of kisses along her side, not quite over the injury, but close.
To someone who had lost a great deal of people already from the antics of a strange island, the scar was a heavy reminder.
"We," he began, voice rumbling softly against her skin. "Can take it slow. I ain't in a rush." He took the opportunity of the slight break as he shuffled back up to remove his shirt, static snapping as he pulled it over and discarded it over his shoulder, before leaning down to kiss her again. Whereas his hands had been gentle, his tongue still searched feverishly— it wasn't Lucy herself who was weak, just that her body needed recovering.
As far as Lucy could see, it was just about the best response she could have gotten to something like that. Mentally making a note to explain later just how she'd come about such a scar, she found that she couldn't dwell on it for long. Her breath caught in her throat as his mouth met the skin of her chest, and when he moved lower, she was free to tug her own shirt the rest of the way off, one hand already moving to her back to fumble with the clasp of her bra. At the end of the day, this wasn't something new for her. She wouldn't have classified herself as easy, but she still knew what she was doing, as, apparently, did he.
Both articles of clothing were tossed aside onto the floor as he kissed her again, one she returned just as heatedly, bare chest pressing up against his. Maybe she wasn't in a hurry either, but nor was she about to pass up the opportunity for more contact, convinced by now that she had honestly needed this. A hand sliding up his back, fingernails just barely meeting skin, she pulled away only when air became a necessity, and even then, not by much. "Good to know," she murmured against his mouth, cracking a faint smile. "That makes two of us."
