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[recoined]

	you've reached kimberly — you really should have texted me. who leaves a voicemail anymore? audio | text | video | snapchat | action
kimberly hart.

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i continue to be the #worst

[recoined]

( there's a feeling in her stomach that's suspiciously close to butterflies as he steps in, closes that gap between them to let his hand find gentle purchase in the strands of her hair. it's not quite touch, far enough removed to be just a tease, but there's a sweetness to it that has her unsure of how exactly to proceed.

he's not leering at her. there's no blatant expectation of desire or wanting, just pleasure in her company, in doing something nice just because. kimberly's not really sure what to do with it. for once, she feels like she's playing on someone else's home turf.

but at least there's a question posed. something for her to reply to, straightforward and easy. ) I'm not much of a pie person, honestly?

( open to alternatives, though? definitely. )

hush you're the best

[killertrack]

[ He nods when she mentions not being a pie person, and lets himself frame her face with his hand, thumb brushing under her cheekbone.

He doesn't know why - it's not fear of rejection, or worry; he's feeling calm and confident and comfortable, right now, but he still feels compelled to ask: ]

Can I --

[ kiss you? goes unsaid as he leans in closer but still doesn't close the gap, even though he kissed her just before dinner. It feels more decisive, now, like a kiss could definitely lead to more, and he doesn't want to assume. ]

no clearly n o t

[recoined]

( can i, he asks, and kimberly can hardly breathe for a second, air caught in her mouth as she manages a silent nod. she doesn't know why. a kiss is nothing, barely even worth writing home about, but the way he asks her feels it means something so much more than just of the press of his lips to hers.

of course he can. she's here, isn't she? she's here, with her face cupped so carefully in his hands, like she's a delicate piece of china, something that might break if handled wrong. if only he knew how roughly kimberly's been handled, how much she can take.

how much she will take, if only to feel something for a moment. how roughly she believes she should be handled, how that touch is all she believes she's owed.

her answer comes as quietly as his question, breathed out over a soft exhale that skims over his mouth, ) Yeah. ( her tongue darts out to flick over her bottom lip, lingering for a moment before pulling back. )

You can.

shhhh *pets your hair*

[killertrack]

[ To him, she is delicate. He can't tell if it's the look in her eyes, sometimes, when she thinks no one can see, or the way her easiness gave way to nervousness, but there's something here, a fragility that Baby is careful of.

Maybe she likes to be handled roughly. But she also doesn't look to be complaining about the careful way he touches her and asks her permission, and so he smiles when she agrees, leaning in to kiss her, thumb still brushing her cheek.

Despite the softness, he's also not hesitant about it, when he kisses her. He licks at her bottom lip, the corners of his lips curved into a smile as he pushes her against the kitchen counter a little, still leaving her more than enough give to pull back if she wants to. Still, he angles his body towards hers, and kisses her with intent, nothing to be mistaken there - she tastes like brown sugar, and he can't get enough. ]

[recoined]

( 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. )

[killertrack]

[ Instead of pushing forward, he moves down. He breaks the kiss, exhaling hard as he bends further, dragging his lips down her cheek, the hinge of her jaw, the curve of her jaw. his tongue darts out to feel her pulse, and he keeps his eyes closed, hand moving down to trail along her side.

Whatever she's willing to give, he'll take. Without pushing, or demanding. His hand finds the place it did earlier, before dinner, where it rested low on the back of her hip, fisting the fabric of her dress.

When he pulls away, he's pretty sure he's looking a little dazed. He licks his lips, eyes darting down to her legs, helplessly. ]

Want to take this to the living-room?

[recoined]

( he keeps asking, carefully posed questions whispered between them, and all she can do is nod her head in agreement. the answer seems obvious, to her — yes, to whatever you're offering, yes, and please — but the questions do come, as if there's an expectation that she's going to say no or push him away. she can't help but feel a little confused for it. is she not clear enough? is he looking for some kind of obvious signal that she's not giving, some body language or quiet sound that she hasn't offered? )

Okay, ( murmured over a slow exhale, an encouraging smile curving up the corners of her mouth, thumb brushing over the line of his hip. ) But I don't want to sleep on the couch if you're making me waffles in the morning.

( as in, i'm sure there's a perfectly good bed, if you'd prefer to use it. )

[killertrack]

[ Baby had been raised by a very polite old man, and had learned sexuality with women sometimes twice his age, teaching him the importance of making sure; or maybe it was just a Southern thing. He was sure she was into it, into him, but he thought it better to ensure she wanted more.

At her answer, Baby can only chuckle, pulling her close and wrapping an arm around her, hoisting her up easily, allowing her to wrap her legs around him if she so wished. That kind of answer was exactly what he'd been hoping for since he offered to make her breakfast in the morning; something just as unsubtle, and just as smooth. ]

Wouldn't have that.

[ Skipping the living-room couch it is. He'll walk them over to his bedroom without missing a beat, Motown still playing in the background, like encouragement. ]

[recoined]

( that's it, isn't it? she'd wondered what he wanted when she'd arrived, questioned the nature of the evening with his fussy jacket and her casual dress, but his clever allusion to something much more intimate than dinner had answered those questions for her. perhaps he'd been wondering the same thing. what she wanted, how far she wanted this to go, how much she wanted him.

because as soon as the words slip out of her mouth, it's like the gates open; his grip is firmer, more sure, more determined as he pulls her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct alone. kimberly can only laugh, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as it rumbles through her chest, clinging to him with arms wrapped around his neck as he carries her through the small apartment. )

This is much better, ( announced as they cross through the threshold, amusement high in her voice. ) Don't you think?

[killertrack]

[ Damn, but she weighs nothing. It's all too easy to walk with Kimberly in his arms, holding her tight to him as she laughs, making him grin. He nods, passing the threshold of his bedroom and pushing the door closed with a foot. ]

Much better, [ he agrees, intent behind the words, just as he sits down on the bed, letting Kimberly straddle him. Like this, it's just too easy to kiss her again, to let his hands roam over her hips, the small of her back, her ass, down to the hem of her dress, trailing his fingers along the skin just below it.

He lets out a noise against her lips when he realizes the music is not filtering through the door,
but he still can barely hear the ringing in his ears, replaced by the steady, rapid beat of his heart as he holds Kimberly to him. ]