( she pauses for a minute, a quick scan of the room to figure out what fits her wants best. there are a lot of things that she likes but fitting to what she needs right now? )
Table or floor?
( or both. both was a good option. table he could use his mouth and then fuck her, floor she could ride him )
( he considers both options, eyes dark and darting in the dim light until his gaze settles on una once more, wanting. mccoy leans forward toward her; splays a hand on the counter, and turns it to offer her a help up. )
Bar.
( all the better to start with; let her wrap her thighs around his head. )
( she raises an eyebrow, intrigued, and steps into him, using that hand to help her up.
her legs part once she's comfortably sat to let him closer, though she's already reaching for him, a tug at his collar pulling him in as she leans down to kiss him. just what the doctor ordered might be too on the nose but it's damn fitting )
( his hands close briefly over her knees as he slips readily between them, squeezing a path up her thighs as he kisses her. he sees no reason to be shy, to hesitate now, mapping her curves with that rising touch; her waist, her ribs, the swell of her breasts under that gold tunic and, finally, curling his fingers in her dark hair. )
( she hums into the kiss, an approval at the touch, a second hum when his hands are in her hair. she's tugging at his tunic, pulling it out from his pants, getting a firm grip on it to tug it up, only breaking from him to pull it over his head.
a boot presses into his ass to nudge him closer, making it easier to grab his undershirt before letting go )
( he moves with her readily, half a low laugh caught in his throat as his arms lift with her pull. his badge clatters soft somewhere on the bar top, or the floor, whichever, unimportant as his gaze meets hers again and he rucks up that undershirt. pulls it up and off tanned skin and broad shoulders, the easy flex of corded muscle when McCoy sets to work on his pants and pulls them off with his boots, all unselfconscious efficiency.
down to those black, regulation shorts, the tile is cool against his bare feet, contrast to the heat he's found in the cradle of una's thighs. that's right where his hands go again, skimming over her legs, tracing under the hem of her skirt. his mouth follows, unable to resist: breathing hotly against her leggings, nuzzling her inner thigh. )
( she's fully aware that she's wearing far too many layers, though where she aches and itches for release the motions of his hands, light touch of his mouth against her leg-- she shudders a breath, leaning back slightly as her hands push through his hair. it's a contrast, the wish to hand it over to him, to let him care for her and the rougher need to get it done.
except una knows which will be sweeter in the end, if she can temper those urges. her hips lift slightly into his touch, getting a little more comfortable, nails grazing lightly against his scalp )
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no subject
( she pauses for a minute, a quick scan of the room to figure out what fits her wants best. there are a lot of things that she likes but fitting to what she needs right now? )
Table or floor?
( or both. both was a good option. table he could use his mouth and then fuck her, floor she could ride him )
Quick. And I want your hands in my hair.
no subject
Bar.
( all the better to start with; let her wrap her thighs around his head. )
no subject
her legs part once she's comfortably sat to let him closer, though she's already reaching for him, a tug at his collar pulling him in as she leans down to kiss him. just what the doctor ordered might be too on the nose but it's damn fitting )
no subject
no subject
a boot presses into his ass to nudge him closer, making it easier to grab his undershirt before letting go )
Shirt and pants off.
( and given as an order )
no subject
down to those black, regulation shorts, the tile is cool against his bare feet, contrast to the heat he's found in the cradle of una's thighs. that's right where his hands go again, skimming over her legs, tracing under the hem of her skirt. his mouth follows, unable to resist: breathing hotly against her leggings, nuzzling her inner thigh. )
no subject
except una knows which will be sweeter in the end, if she can temper those urges. her hips lift slightly into his touch, getting a little more comfortable, nails grazing lightly against his scalp )