[ Her teeth scrape across her lip, rolling into the pressure off Parker's fingers, eyes shutting tightly and the words are an easy wash over her. Keen little noise she presses into her mouth when she's kissed, wanton and high. Needily pressing up into it, once and then again. Bucking into the grind of her hand, a trapped heat evident enough through clothes. Never sick of being touched, never sick of being kissed. The open shudder of her mind that the contact brings, where they are never more blurred than when they are this. Breathing in on Parker's exhale, strings to be pulled, to pull in return. Equal and even reaction that she uses again.
Happy enough to give over to her words, she'd asked, hadn't she? So there's a planned motion to the movements. Wrapping her arms tightly around her, planting her feet flat against the bed and she pushes up against Parker to roll her back - a thought in her mind half a second before she does it. A movement practised a dozen times in training that she likes this use more, she decides.
Gets Parker down, hands planting by her head on the bed as she peers down at her with a smile. ] I can do that.
[ One second where she's poised on top of her, and then she's following through. An effort to peel herself away, but does it in a slow clamber backwards until she's both feet back on the floor. Back straightened, and she stretches herself out then.
Because it's not so much about being watched so much as Parker watching her. Miming, practising at being - something like Moxxi. She'd say something like it's all in the tease. Draw it out long and slow. So she takes a breath as she fixes her eyes on Parker, watching her reactions as she moves. Bit by bit, doing as she's told.
Shirt, first, where it's hanging loose on her shoulders. Already undone, and she drops it the rest of the way in a roll of her shoulders back so it falls to hook at her elbows, then sliding down her arms to hang loose at one wrist and then the other as she tugged it off to fall in a pile on the ground.
Shoes then, stepping on the heel of them to tug them off, socks after it. Flicking them off to the corner of the room, a messy quick action that's almost loud to the relative quiet of the room. A shake then, and it's not nerves so much, rather, there's something to this that she likes. Making herself bare like this, that means when she looks up, her eyes are on Parker sharp and warm and doesn't even bother to look at what she's doing when she finds the set of her belt, getting it undone in quick economical motions and wriggling it down her hips. A rustle as it pools at her feet and she steps out from and closer back towards her.
Her bare feet are bare on the carpet. It's nothing - Parker hasn't seen before, markings like rivers that settled against her hips - secrets so much as that, where they curve up the inside of her thigh, sweep over her breast in a line that ends it a series of dots. Things only she knew. Just theirs, just belonging to this. Hovers just in front of her when she reaches up for the straps on her bra, smoothing up over her shoulders, the pale stretch of lace that is nothing but novelty before hooking her thumb over one side to tug it down. Pointless really. Except that it's exactly the point, still looking at her, still undressing for her, just her. As she takes the second to tug up behind her and get the clasp undone ( too long to practise getting that as smooth as other women seemed to be able to - but right now it's easy ).
One second, where she crosses her arm over her chest like it even mattered at this point, to drop the scrap of lace away from her. Another step closer once it's gone, so easily within reach now, looking down at Parker still nowhere else, never anywhere else. Parker might have been shy of it but Angel never had been, never an interest in hiding when she thought of her. The difference maybe is that she does know so much of the pull she has not because of anything Parker says, but because she's here right now and her hand drops to catch on the waistband of her underwear, hooking her fingers at its edge and begins to tug it down. Slow, slow, slow, a sharp exhale of breath that's wanting - getting to her, more than it should. A give and take of control, she can feel all the way down. All spiking heat so evident on the flush of her skin and the taste of all her thought. ]
no subject
Happy enough to give over to her words, she'd asked, hadn't she? So there's a planned motion to the movements. Wrapping her arms tightly around her, planting her feet flat against the bed and she pushes up against Parker to roll her back - a thought in her mind half a second before she does it. A movement practised a dozen times in training that she likes this use more, she decides.
Gets Parker down, hands planting by her head on the bed as she peers down at her with a smile. ] I can do that.
[ One second where she's poised on top of her, and then she's following through. An effort to peel herself away, but does it in a slow clamber backwards until she's both feet back on the floor. Back straightened, and she stretches herself out then.
Because it's not so much about being watched so much as Parker watching her. Miming, practising at being - something like Moxxi. She'd say something like it's all in the tease. Draw it out long and slow. So she takes a breath as she fixes her eyes on Parker, watching her reactions as she moves. Bit by bit, doing as she's told.
Shirt, first, where it's hanging loose on her shoulders. Already undone, and she drops it the rest of the way in a roll of her shoulders back so it falls to hook at her elbows, then sliding down her arms to hang loose at one wrist and then the other as she tugged it off to fall in a pile on the ground.
Shoes then, stepping on the heel of them to tug them off, socks after it. Flicking them off to the corner of the room, a messy quick action that's almost loud to the relative quiet of the room. A shake then, and it's not nerves so much, rather, there's something to this that she likes. Making herself bare like this, that means when she looks up, her eyes are on Parker sharp and warm and doesn't even bother to look at what she's doing when she finds the set of her belt, getting it undone in quick economical motions and wriggling it down her hips. A rustle as it pools at her feet and she steps out from and closer back towards her.
Her bare feet are bare on the carpet. It's nothing - Parker hasn't seen before, markings like rivers that settled against her hips - secrets so much as that, where they curve up the inside of her thigh, sweep over her breast in a line that ends it a series of dots. Things only she knew. Just theirs, just belonging to this. Hovers just in front of her when she reaches up for the straps on her bra, smoothing up over her shoulders, the pale stretch of lace that is nothing but novelty before hooking her thumb over one side to tug it down. Pointless really. Except that it's exactly the point, still looking at her, still undressing for her, just her. As she takes the second to tug up behind her and get the clasp undone ( too long to practise getting that as smooth as other women seemed to be able to - but right now it's easy ).
One second, where she crosses her arm over her chest like it even mattered at this point, to drop the scrap of lace away from her. Another step closer once it's gone, so easily within reach now, looking down at Parker still nowhere else, never anywhere else. Parker might have been shy of it but Angel never had been, never an interest in hiding when she thought of her. The difference maybe is that she does know so much of the pull she has not because of anything Parker says, but because she's here right now and her hand drops to catch on the waistband of her underwear, hooking her fingers at its edge and begins to tug it down. Slow, slow, slow, a sharp exhale of breath that's wanting - getting to her, more than it should. A give and take of control, she can feel all the way down. All spiking heat so evident on the flush of her skin and the taste of all her thought. ]