She bites her lip. She can think of a lot of things she likes. It's still something of a fascination to her that she finds attraction in his cherubic body, his doe eyes and soft lips-- she vows never to share this with him, never to sow more discord into their occasionally strained friendship. Her hand slides down his body, curving into his hips, behind his balls. Gently, she pets his taint.
His jaw drifts open as she pets along him, her wrist passing along his. She can feel him flex with his strokes; he can feel her heartbeat between her bones. A grin starts to warm his expression, chin tipping up to brush her mouth. "Do you think about it? When--ah. When we're not together?"
"If you're asking if I think about fingering you," she says, her voice low, "the answer's yes." But her fingers stay on his taint, massaging it in rhythm with his strokes.
"God, Joan." His eyes flutter, hips nearly tilt towards her hand but stop short when he nearly loses his pace. His tongue pinches between his teeth, nose nuzzles against hers. His hand twists, breath bottoms out in his gut. "A little--harder. Can I touch you--?"
She wants to say no, but that's just cruelty and a little power-lust. She likes being distant, sometimes, removing herself from the action, but he's just trying to be nice. He always is, and sometimes it makes her sick; not with disgust, but the feeling you get after eating too much candy when you're nine.
That's okay. That's very okay. Selfishly, he just wants to hold her. "Thank you," He breathes in a rush, voice warbling in his throat. His free hand hooks around the back of her neck. The pulse of her fingers makes him buckle and curse and jostle against her mouth. "Shit--shit, I can feel that in my--oh my god, Joan--"
He's coming this way. If she couldn't tell by the curve in his back or the jitter in his fist, his grip on her hair tightens like winding the string of a kite in his fingers to keep it from snapping away in the wind.
She pets him through it, lets herself be grabbed, not really sure what he's trying to touch or why. Maybe he just doesn't like the distance, which is what's turning her on. The academic quality of touching him just to check the reaction, almost scientific, of making him deal with it. It's interesting.
She turns her head to whisper in his ear. "Where did you feel it?"
"In my--hah. In my balls. And right--right below the tip." His hand slides loose from her neck to map with one finger a trail from his temple to the hinge of his jaw. "Here. Jesus. You really like a guy to squirm, huh?"
So she curls her hand back, fingers on his taint and thumb massaging his balls in the crook of her hand. "Only if they like it," she says, turning her head to kiss his ear hard enough for her lips to smack. "I'm gonna go home and think about this. I'm gonna send you a picture of me thinking about it."
"I like it," He laughs, fingers winding around Joan's wrist where it dips between his legs. "And I'm good. I'm okay. Holy shit, Joan." That's enough, time to stop, please and thank you. He's not ready to unwind that far tonight. His other hand stretches to wipe his spend off on the grass. "I can give you something else to think about."
Joan thinks about pushing it-- specifically, making Quentin lick his own spunk off her fingers-- but she's already been enough of a creep today. She removes her hand from between his legs, bringing it up to pat his cheek. "You're eager to please. I said I'm good. Maybe next time."
But when she gets home, she does send him a few seconds of video on mental relay, her choking out his name while she touches herself in front of the mirror. She doesn't respond after that; she likes the idea of leaving him hanging too much.
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"I like watching you get off."
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Her fingers press harder, tempo relentless.
"Nothing below the belt."
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He's coming this way. If she couldn't tell by the curve in his back or the jitter in his fist, his grip on her hair tightens like winding the string of a kite in his fingers to keep it from snapping away in the wind.
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She turns her head to whisper in his ear. "Where did you feel it?"
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🎀?
But when she gets home, she does send him a few seconds of video on mental relay, her choking out his name while she touches herself in front of the mirror. She doesn't respond after that; she likes the idea of leaving him hanging too much.