( it isn't soft, not really. it's gentle, careful and patient, but there's nothing soft about the press of her back into the countertop, or the way her hands find purchase against his hips, holding on to him like he's a life raft in the open ocean. he's a life raft and she's clinging on because this — the slow, determined slope of his mouth over hers, warm and sure but not quite desperate, not quite reckless — is drowning, unfamiliar territory that kimberly doesn't know how to navigate.
she expects him to push forward, to take with greedy desperation, heat and wanting pulling their bodies together, but it never comes. instead, he lingers just far enough away to make her miss the closeness; his hands are warm and reassuring against her jaw and cheek, delicately guiding her movements as his mouth plots out a course against her own.
it's enough to leave her a little breathless, eyes fluttering closed; her body is at once both loose and strung tight like a bow, but yet, and perhaps more importantly, malleable — entirely, completely his for the taking, if he'd like her to be. )
no subject
she expects him to push forward, to take with greedy desperation, heat and wanting pulling their bodies together, but it never comes. instead, he lingers just far enough away to make her miss the closeness; his hands are warm and reassuring against her jaw and cheek, delicately guiding her movements as his mouth plots out a course against her own.
it's enough to leave her a little breathless, eyes fluttering closed; her body is at once both loose and strung tight like a bow, but yet, and perhaps more importantly, malleable — entirely, completely his for the taking, if he'd like her to be. )