Know When to Fold 'Em (Closed for Obuzeti)

Kara doesn’t jump but her eyebrows shoot up to nearly touch her hairline, vibrant blue eyes wide. Holy crap on a stick-she takes the hand by the wrist and inspects it. “Damn, Jonah.” A playful bit of a smile as she glances up at him, then the wall. “Didja dent the wall?”

She’ll remember though. She doesn’t want to fracture her wrist either. Hadn’t happened yet, but you never know. It’s kind of cute he’s acting like she’s never been in a fist fight before. Still, good to know a bit extra, the rhyme and reason to a thing rather than just...the dirty muddy methods learned from scrapping.

“Alright alright. You agree not to try to hitting ME that hard and I’ll agree to play without knifing you.” Kara’s amused. Why the hell not, could be fun. She slips back out of her newly minted jacket and unbuckles her holster, discarding that too.

The redhead bounces on the balls of her feet, a loosening shrug of her shoulders before she stretches one slim, wiry toned arm across her chest, then the other. She’s dispensed with her bag of tricks and feels a little ridiculous sizing him up in little more than her breezy casual attire, but whatever. It’s just pretend, and maybe mostly an excuse to touch each other-which Kara’s okay with.

Matter of fact, she’s already thinking of ways to turn this around on him. Her usual bent of mischievousness. “Ten caps I can get ya before I get got.” She says, those vibrant eyes sparkling. Even pretending, she’s sure he’d underestimate her. Maybe especially because it was pretend-she’s tiny compared to him and his bulk, she didn’t have the stopping power he did at all.

Still though, she thinks she can win. Assuming there was a winning. How did normal people practice, anyway, if there wasn’t a risk of getting stabbed? Couldn’t be very good practice for the real thing in that case, she thinks.

“Count of three and go!” Kara chirps as if they were going to race, greatly entertained. “One! Two!”

And then she darted forward before bothering with either three OR go, the cheater.

Kara ducks his arm and smacks a hand to his outer thigh with a laugh. She seemed to be playing a game of near tag, darting in and out of arm’s reach and always somehow half behind him-she was quick, and she was ridiculously hard to get a hold of-slip your fingers around her arm and she somehow twisted back away before they could tighten, it was as if Kara didn’t plan hardly any of her movements, just went from impulse to impulse, more muscle memory than thinking. What little telegraphing there was could be dropped in a blink for some other ADD action, her good balance and flexibility of movement doing wonders.

Still though, she just wasn’t very big. Slipping in front of him despite the wall she’d previously been very good about avoiding, Kara managed to finally bop his nose. It was a costly amused bit of a joke, because that got her caught between the wall of a man and the actual wall, her slender wrist finally captured as he surged in.

It was possibly a ruse.

Her right leg had shot up in the same instant, barely flying into the space between them- leaving Kara’s boot sole planted firmly on his torso, her knee pressing hard back into her chest and the entire limb flexed as it tried and failed to push back against his weight-as her free hand drew the knife out of that very same boot, sheath and all-intending to smack it against his throat in a movement that, frankly, seemed practiced.

But he caught that wrist and pinned it up with the other one faster than Kara had honestly thought he could move. “Wha-hey!” He’d been dicking around jus’ about that whole time! She pulled at her captured hands with a slight arch of her back, knee pressing tighter into her chest-but she was dead caught.
 
"Nah, that'd be harder," Jonah says with a shrug. "Anyways, sure. Ten caps. Easy money, right?"

It kind of is. He's not turning the wolf on Kara, and that means everything feels awkward, slow and sluggish by comparison to the razor-sharpness of death he's accustomed to. Her opening shot slides through with ease and tags him, though he dusts her head with a jab in response, ruffling her hair into breezy strands. That does manage to distract him, and the rest of the time he's just following after, trying to keep up; it's playful rather than focused, and he finds he doesn't mind that at all. The planned jabs slide into loose grabs and paws, and his weight comes off the balls of his feet as he just about chases Kara, a helpless laugh breaking through at several points. It's play, and he doesn't have a precedent for it, this bright bubbling in his chest and the exhilaration of exertion setting in bones and muscles, endorphins running high.

Then he catches Kara against a wall, and her knife in his hand, and all that bubbling bursts at once - with a wicked smile, he ducks low under her leg and stands back up, bringing Kara with him as she slides up the wall, her leg and boot now over his shoulder, stuck out awkwardly. It leaves her a little higher than him, relatively, and immovably pinned against the wall. One of the big man's hands secure her opposite hip, and the other is under an arm, supporting her.

"Think I've got you this time, Kara," Jonah says, heavy meaning in his voice, and then he leans up and presses his lips against hers where she hangs against the wall - secure by his strength, not moving even an inch. His breath is a little ragged from the exercise and excitement, so the kiss flutters - brushes and slides of lips in between breaths, as he exploits her position ruthlessly.
 
Kara struggles but she’s going nowhere-she half can’t believe she’s been captured, lost her teasing bet. It was hilarious, and it was also very vexing because dammit, she thought she’d had this!

He’s entirely too warm against the back of her thigh, the pointless bob of her captured leg helping not one bit-it’s a good thing she’s so flexible, but their position was-well!

"Think I've got you this time, Kara,"

She meets that kiss because damn, the words did something to her, something fierce and instinctive, a pull low in her belly she honestly hadn’t really experienced before. Her blood feels hot, and so does her face, and-

Well she’s not taking this lying down-Kara nips his lip and then kisses him back hard, searing to meet the heat in his voice and his level of intensity. She’s got nothing but impulsive, ever burning energy and passion, and she opts to turn that on him then and there, captured between him and the wall or not.
 
Jonah lays kisses on every bit of Kara he can reach - first her lips, then when they're red and puffy he draws back and sets himself to her jawline, then the underside of her chin, raising back up to her nose; smothering her in breathless affection and rising ardor. Finally he ducks and lays his lips to the beating pulse in her throat, tongue flicking against the soft skin there on some forgotten instinct as he sucks lightly.

With how Kara's pinned, there's an acre of bare leg exposed and right in front of his face, and he pulls back just enough to turn and press a kiss on the inside of her knee, too, bare skin pricking under the touch of his mouth, his hand running up that delicious thigh opposite in a delighted caress. Jonah wants to keep her pinned against this wall, touch every erg of exposed skin, sink beneath her clothing to the naked woman underneath, and allows himself to rock up and against the spread delta of Kara's legs with his hips, on reflex deeper than bone.

He recognizes that he's rock hard in his pants, and can't even recall the last time he had an erection.
 
He’s all over her, pressing kisses anywhere and everywhere he can. She was already in trouble on the way he had said that-but when he kisses at the delicate column of her throat, flicks his tongue over her pulse-Kara suddenly can’t sit still. She can’t get down either despite her best efforts-an involuntary giggle at the kiss to the back of her knee-ticklish.

There’s a frustrated sort of something that makes her want to touch him something bad, though, and she’s trying her damndest to get free, breathless laughter and feminine sounds of exertion. He’s too big. Too solid.

He drives his hips into hers and a bolt of electricity seems to arc from him to her and spiral up her spine at the continued contact.

Very solid. Too late for softness, too late for slow-it’s a heist, now, and she has to steal him not because it’d be funny or a cocky show of anything but because she has to have.

“Okay!” She finally relents. “Ten caps, you win ten caps! Lemmie down!”

She’d no sooner be released than be right back on him, though, fingers slipping over his short black hair and arm behind his neck for another one of those searing kisses. Can’t help it. She doesn’t want to help it.

She does what she wants and she gets what she wants, and she wants Jonah.

“I’m tired, aren’t you tired?” The question is nonsensical. Kara’s not the least bit tired. She's got fire in her blood and while the mischief is there in those sparking blue eyes-there's also a heat he nor anyone else had ever seen before. “We should go to bed.” She can’t hardly talk for lack of air, here.
 
"Tired?" Jonah rumbles, his voice low and husky now. It crawls over rocks and creaks in his throat. "No. But I'll go to bed, alright."

He leans down and plants another, final kiss on Kara, then strides right on past her, throwing a Look back over his shoulder. He has no idea what he's doing, but it feels right, and his body has never lied to him - instinct leading, where the mind fails. Down the hall and around the corner he goes, then swings around the doorway to the bedroom, where he lurks until Kara comes in after him.

Jonah swoops again and scoops her up again, unable to let go of her for more than seconds at a time now, fully addicted. Though, now, he swings about and plants himself in a seat on the bed, Kara safely ensconced in his lap. His hand drops down to the lip of her tank top and immediately slides under, seeking the touch of her bare skin with relentless hunger, and he actually purrs a little at the heat of her body under his fingers.
 
That low, husky tone sends tingles down her spine. Kara’s not sure she knows what’s the matter with her. She half feels like she’s been drinking, except she’s intoxicated on want rather than whiskey.

Man.

Oh man.

She realizes he had left the room several seconds ago.

Kara moves to follow after him-and laughs when she’s ambushed at the door, plunked down sideways in his lap again. This could be fun. This would be all the fun. She’s not even sure how much fun it’d be-she’d never wanted it like this before. She’s crass as hell, but it’s not like she’s slept around up and down the block. Her unattainability was part of her charm.

Screw charm.

“It’s too hot.” She’s not sure why she’s continuing with her antics. She knows what she’s here for, and so does he-she thinks. He’s got to-innocent as he is, he’s too fired up to ignore what she knows he wants, even if he’s not sure what it is. “Don’t you think? You’re not s’pposed to sleep in your day clothes. Makes ‘em ratty.” What?

She’d done that just last-Kara pulled her tanktop completely over her head without any hesitation, revealing the swell of her round breasts, not as top heavy as some-but certainly no boy, a handful of pillowy pale softness each. The black, strapless balconette bra encasing them was a surprisingly feminine touch. It had little swirls of lace over it, must have been costly somewhere-something pretty the merc had gotten, a snippet of luxury just because and just for her own desire of it.

Kara’s not shy in the least. Her cocky dismissal might be absent but she was still confident, utterly unashamed of anything about her body.

She’s a lot more interested in trying to see more of his than showing off hers at the moment though-her fingers already under the fabric and smoothing almost curiously over the muscles of his back.
 
Kara pulls off her shirt, and the fire guttering in Moray's chest flares into voracious light - his head dips and he presses his lips against the cleavage of each breast once, welcoming them into the daylight. Then he leans back and releases Kara for just long enough to grab the edge of his own tank top and pulls it off, but not near as smooth - a seam pops somewhere in there in his impatience, and he drops it aside without checking for it.

Moray's solid - no dieter or body builder, his chest is just a wall of flesh, firm and tough. There's no ripples and defined pecs, but no flab either, just rock-thick muscle woven into a mesh over the rest of him. No belly, either, but a faint trail of dark hair that leads down into his pants, curly and teasing. There's no jiggle or give in him anywhere, just . . . bricks.

Fitting.

Jonah draws Kara back against his chest - the sensation of that bra's silky fabric against his bare skin is electric - and then his hands sink down her tawny back and take a handful of ass apiece, pulling her body to body with him. His eyes stare down at Kara, and there is a complete, predator's focus about him now - no attention, no time spared for anything else in the world besides her.

His grip kneads her cheeks, slowly, and then he draws back up to cup her face and kiss her with absolute, contrasting devotion.

Jonah wants, and he desires.
 
It’s some kind of dance-they do that, edge around whatever...whatever they were, a step here, a step there. Careful, so very careful-and then sometimes not careful at all.

Kara doesn’t feel very careful, but even here there’s some kind of symmetry to it-she removes her shirt, so he removes his shirt. She runs her hands down his back, he follows suit on hers-her bare skin tingling where his fingers trail before he grips her curved bottom.

Kara’s hands are back behind him again. She’s pressed close into his bare skin, the man just a wall of muscle-her arms around him, hands smoothing over the muscles and bone of his shoulder blades before her fingers curl over his shoulders, Kara tipping her head back for that kiss, that faint blush of color to her cheeks and electrical tendrils of heat sparking in her eyes.

“We should have fun.” She breathes, a shift of her hips against his from where she’s mostly straddling his lap-flexibly sinking closer, her knees bent so that there’s a boot on either side of his thighs. He wants her, but it’s not just his physical arousal, he’s looking at her both like she’s the most precious damned thing and the world and like he’s going to stalk her into a corner and eat her up. “We should have all the fun.” Her voice is low now, and she slides her hands back around to his flat chest, intent on pressing him back into that mattress, thank you very much. Her other one is trying to loosen her laces at the same time, but it’s a half effort given her distraction.
 
Jonah lets himself be pushed back, but that's more because he's busy with the hook of her bra, which he notably does not just tear off of her - recognizing the value inherent in something Kara wouldn't just show off, and spending probably a dozen seconds fiddling with it before managing to loose it and letting the contraption slide off. That he does sling aside, because at least it's still in one piece.

And then he has to take in Kara, because he's been distracted, but Kara - half-naked, near out of breath and flushed, a happily wriggling woman on top of him, and it strikes him what's about to happen. And he wants it. That physical passion is alien, but he throws himself into it without abandon as his hips rise and grind against Kara's again, in between her thighs, delicious friction striking sparks.

"Boots off," Jonah says, fierce eyes intent. For all that he's on the bottom, with Kara on top of him, he's coiled and watching with such absolute focus that the situation cannot persist long. Meanwhile, his hand runs up her bare belly, in between her breasts, one callused finger brushing over her lips as the other runs in mindless circles and strokes over her bare back. "Then the fun."
 
She presses a kiss to his chest as he starts to lie back, her fingers finally undoing the damnable laces and loosening them to yank the boot off and drop it somewhere on the floor behind her. He works on the balconette. It’s probably something of a puzzle to the man, and the idea of a bra you had to use lock picks on briefly drifts through her mind-but his arousal was against her and she fails to come with a joke for once-she’s busy.

Even without the balconette Kara’s breasts keep their shape, perfectly round at the bottom and perked, pale pink nipples and areolas to match her pale complexion. The skin there is impossibly soft-all of her was soft.

Maybe Kara did walk out of a pin up magazine.

She glances to his face with a knowing quirk to her smile. She knows what she’s rocking-and works at her other boot. His gaze was intense. There’s that tingle to the back of her neck again but it’s not quite a danger signal-it was more like that kiss in the elevator, crowded against the wall and kissed for real in retaliation for her teasing.

Didn’t matter. She’s doing the stealing here-though her breath hitches when he presses into her. Shit, maybe she’s not running a heist. Maybe they’re both after marks. “Well yeah-” She says with a huff of laughter-a pursed kiss to his straying thumb. One of her hands is on his chest, balancing her as she works at that other boot, watching him. “Not running away anywhere, after.”

She draws it off, briefly leaning back with her arm out to drop the boot-a slight sway to her breasts in the movement, shoulders angled slightly away for just a moment, head turned and those dark red tendrils falling into place over her ear.
 
The boots are off, and Jonah's hands come up in a surge, grabbing Kara by the ass and fairly dragging her up his chest, leaving her seated somewhere just below his ribs as his head bends forward and lays lips to the indent of her navel, tongue cold and surprising as it dips within. In just as smooth a motion he flips over, lifting Kara's entire body weight with his chest alone like it's nothing -

Now balanced on his thick forearms over her, Jonah stares down, heavy-eyed and unblinking, as he takes her in - the sort pertness of her breasts, the pale skin of her body, and the redness in her lips and skin. It's too much to not ignore.

As delicate as a deer drinking water, his head dips and his nose brushes along one stiffening nipple, his breath prickling it as he passes by. And then he keeps sinking, as he drops to her shorts and undoes them without so much as asking. "Legs up," he murmurs, low and intense, but the kiss he drops on one thigh is soft as cotton.

If he doesn't fuck Kara in the next ten minutes he very well may lose his mind, and the infinite, cyclopean intensity of his stare on Kara says he's already started that trip. There is nothing else in the world but this woman for him, now.
 
He’s a lot faster than he looks-she’d no sooner dropped that boot than he’d grabbed her about the hips and ass and pulled her up closer to press a kiss to her flat, soft tummy eliciting an off guard laugh-and then a surprised noise as he flips them both over before she can utter a protest.

Her hair puddles behind her head and contrasts sharply with the sheets, those big blue eyes briefly conflicted in whether she should try and wiggle out from beneath him or what-but with his muscled forearms on either side of her she somehow doesn’t think that’d work.

“Listen here-” She starts with her smirk and a slight arch to her back, the fingers on his shoulders pressing in as if she might escape upwards-but he’s staring her down, drinking her in without blinking, and whatever she was going to say gets lost in that damnable tongue twistedness she gets with him sometimes-lately anyway. Well HE can’t be making all the decisions here, she’d had the lead before, and she’d been on top!

But those tingles along the back of her neck were now more than halfway down her spine as he moves downwards, the color to her face spreading a little because damn, he’s intense-and he just undid her shorts! Wasn’t she supposed to be stealing him?

“They ain’t going to fit you, you know.” Kara cracks before finally complying, a little uncertain about this shift but hell if she can’t half help but want to see where he goes with it-and maybe still half thinking she can flip this back around on him.
 
The shorts come off, revealing those long and slender legs, and Jonah flings them away without a second glance. Now clothed in only a pair of black panties to match her absent bra, he glances over Kara with hungry focus, unbuckling his own pants without so much as a glance at them. He shucks them in a terrible hurry, and climbs back up the bed, prowling up the length of her body with touch as much as sight, his lips and tongue rising up one thigh and along her stomach to between her breasts and up into a full kiss. There, Jonah hovers a moment, simply savouring the contact of skin on skin; Kara's bare, warm body beneath his, the faint roughness of her taut nipples, and the rosy tumble of her hair about her head.

He spends several long moments just trading kisses with Kara, reestablishing that intimacy lost in the declothing, before he draws back enough to gain his breath again. One of his hands slides up to cup her jaw, thumb running along the line of it; the other trails down her taut belly and curves under the fringe of her panties, but goes no further, resting on the warm join between her hips instead, not quite touching her sex.

"Kara," he says, voice rough, eyes holding her own with deadly intensity. "Spread your legs."

It is both command and promise, plea and request; final warning, and invitation to the tumble. He looms no more than an inch away, their breath mingling and his lips brushing hers anytime they speak, the shaped words extending to close the distance of their mouths.

Permission, or submission, he knows not which. Maybe the line doesn't matter.
 
His skin is rough and the hard flat span of his chest distinctly and obviously male, different than hers. The flex of his muscled thighs beneath the silly grey shorts, how crazy intense he was, how hard-Kara's never wanted anything this badly in her entire life, and it was driving her up the wall that she was too small to push him over and take it from him.

That was somehow half maddening all by itself-that she couldn't dominate him, that this wasn't a heist of Jonah at all-
Heck, he was stealing the hell out of her! She can't quite reach where she wants to-the tips of her fingers on one hand brushing the outer edge of his muscled hip and thigh and the other one curled against his shoulder as she tries to remember to breathe in the mix of all the heat and kisses.

He captures her jaw and draws his other hand downwards, keeps her looking at him. The way he says her name-the tingles went from the back of her neck to the base of her spine now, thrill of fire spiraling down to the core of her.

His gaze is as pinning as the sheer size difference- she feels like a caught rabbit under it, under him.

And it's driving her fucking crazy. She's not used to being on this side of things-or here at all, really! Her skin was on fire...

"I came in here to steal-" Kara's flustered enough she actually drops the joke, a keening noise of frustrated arousal. She can't hardly think straight anymore. "-seduce you!"

Want, want, wants! She turns her head out of his caressing hand and kisses him hard again, tries to slip out to the side somehow-only one leg moving, bending to slip just outside of his, her soft inner thigh brushing against his rougher outer one. The wily woman trying to figure how to flip things back somehow-her opposite hand moving down the front of his chest, over the dark hint of curls-and to him.
 
Jonah makes a rumbling sound in his chest - not even a growl or a hum, just a rolling, sub-vocal grumble - and shifts up and forward a little. His knee slides up and underneath her extended leg, pinning it up and out of the way, which is all the opening he needs. His fingers dip into her panties and brush against her lower lips, working a gentle circle against her labia. He's hunched over her a little awkwardly, but in his absolute focus doesn't notice any discomfort, not with Kara pinned and whining underneath his body and his attentions.

"You hesitated," Jonah says, low and smoky. There's no tremble of nervousness or uncertainty, just complete satisfaction. "I didn't. I won't. I want you. I'm going to take you."

His hand slides down from her face to take a handful of her breast, thumb rubbing over the hard nipple and fingers kneading gently, his strokes in counterpoint time to his fingerwork below on Kara's moistening pussy. He hesitates for just a moment when she palms his shaft inside his shorts, though, the sensation of that soft hand on untouched length something he hasn't experienced before, or at all.

She's so attractive it's hard for him to breathe. Jonah's sweating, now, for no reason he can understand, heat radiating from him like a furnace and his erection rock-hard against Kara's hand.
 
She’s somehow put herself in a WORSE position-the soft skin of her naked thigh pressed into the warmth of his muscular one, now opened up for-

Her hips bucked involuntarily with a near squeak and Kara’s bit of flushed color intensifies as he spoke, the words low and rumbling in his chest, laced with intent that makes her want him even more, fingers hot against skin she can’t keep him from.

Hesitated? Kara might have protested the point, but she honestly can’t remember anymore-like with everything, Jonah Moray seems to be able to missile right on past her bullshit and trickery for the heart of things-he was a kind of focused she could never manage, and here, right now, that focus was solely and completely fixed on her.

”I didn't. I won't. I want you. I'm going to take you."

Holy fuck, that did dangerous and terrible things to her, which isn’t any good if she’s trying to win or whatever. She arches her back into his touch, his callused skin adding another layer to the near sensory overload.

“Somebody better take somebody-” It wasn’t fair, him driving her so damned crazy. That was her job! She did that! But he goes still when she touches him-and Kara takes as much advantage as she can, catching some of her breath and determinedly running her fingers down the underside of him before a curious grip.

Her other hand catches at the waist band and pulls them down so her wrist isn’t caught against his flat muscled belly or hips, freeing her to thrill and tease, now. The flesh is hard and hot, the throb of his pulse felt beneath her fingers easily in the brief moment she just grasps him-before she moves the hand on him, certainly not as practiced as a paid woman would have been, but there’s an instinctive cleverness to the mischievous little minx, an attention she does manage to pay to him and his reaction to her.

Her gaze flicks up to his face, the deceptively innocent appearance of those large blue eyes utterly contrasting with the wicked sort of triumph reflected in them, her focus warring a bit with her own heated desire and want. There’s still that flushed color to her cheeks and the breathlessness he’d put her in-it was maybe anyone’s game now, and one of them was a lot better at hunting than the other.
 
Jonah leans down and seals his mouth over Kara's, quenching the squeaks and his own gutteral exhalations as she fondles him with the same solution. His lips are hot and thirsty now, pulling and tugging at her own, relentless in the search for her taste. His eyes are lidded and heavy, chest heaving from quick breaths.

This is worth everything. It wasn't why he had chosen to do all the things that had led Jonah down this road - that was principle and sheer stubbornness - but here awaits his validation, and now at last his restraint looses and he can satiate himself. Kara's body, and Kara's breath, and Kara's sighs, and Kara's affection, he will take it all until he is full. Jonah is voracious, and the little woman spread underneath him is the finest, sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

His fingers rub, and rub, and then separate; two continue to smooth little circles over her puffy lips, but his thumb searches north for a sensitive hood of tissue and presses up and underneath it, seeking the button that will undo Kara. His touch there is gentle and insistent, and his fingers broad and thick.

He can't stop his shaft jumping in Kara's hand as she takes a firmer grip and starts to stroke, his hips bobbing in unconscious rhythm with her ministrations, but it takes a lot more than that to move him from his prey, and this lovely woman is the greatest prize of all.
 
Undo Kara indeed-her sharp note of surprise and the ensuing muffled, helpless noise of arousal against his mouth are involuntary and irrepressible, Kara’s attempt to close her legs out of reflex failing in her pinned position, the toned calf caught outside of him pressing in tight, back arching sharply up into him as she feels that tingling electricity sparking at the base of her spine, arcing through to her center.

She hadn’t thought-how did-oh, fuck.

Her free hand down his thick forearm and her fingers grasp what she can of his wrist, but whether that was to try and peel him off or keep him there she didn’t even seem to entirely know-she tries to keep at what she’d been doing, keep driving him crazy so she can win whatever game she’s got, or thought she had gotten them playing now-but the increasingly distressed, overly stimulated redhead is writhing beneath him, dexterous hand abandoning her task to press up against his chest, smooth her fingers over the flat wall of muscle-he’s so hot, and SHE’S so hot, and his mouth was relentlessly seeking to possess the hell out of hers, his other hand cupping her breast-it’s sensory overload, she can’t hardly breathe-

Kara’s hips are moving of their own accord and she’s wet, had already been primed to go from the make out session against the wall, his heavy, rumbled words. She no longer cares who drives so long as somebody does right now or she’s going to die because, because-

She doesn’t want to leave him behind. No, she wanted to have fun together, and she’s on the verge of begging for that. The back of her heel presses into him to try and draw him in closer, clawing at the wrist, pulling at the wrist attached to the manipulative hand even as she bucks of her hips into his thumb. She breaks the kiss, tries to remember how the hell to talk.

“Cut that-! I want-together, want-” Her breathless pants are tinged with small feminine noises of distress and mindless sort of pleasure that she’s struggling to focus through, form any semblance of thought beyond the strong pull of lustful instincts. “Please."
 
Jonah halts. Kara shouldn't have to beg. Ever.

He takes a long, shuddering breath, and pulls back, his hand rising from her dampened panties, and then he plants a soft kiss on her mouth. "Alright," he says, still a low rumble of thunder by pitch. "Together."

He sits up just long enough to strip the tiny briefs off, and kick them aside - his erection bobs up, thick and red with blood. Then he sits up and helps Kara slide off her last slip of clothing, leaving her bare and lovely, a vision of pale, soft flesh and a fire within vivacious and everlasting. Suddenly he doesn't want to dominate, to take anymore. He wants to share. The change is dizzying, but inexorable, like warm chocolate pouring down his skin.

Together, as she said.

Jonah cups Kara's face and kisses her long and slow as he slides a knee up between her legs and parts them, sliding into that enviable gap. His cock bounces with his heartbeat and settles in the hollow of her thighs, the broad shaft resting upon her puffy lips.

"Together," he says, soft and unyielding, absolute, and his hips slide forward as he pushes up and in, and Kara parts for him and welcomes him in with fluttery ripples of wet muscle, and he inhales a breath that shakes in his lungs.
 
A reprieve, and Kara is dazedly grateful for it even if her treacherous body suddenly felt bereft. She’s got to calm down. Another second of that and she would have burst, and that wasn’t right, wasn’t fair-she wants to hold him, she wants to make him feel, she’d been so full of shit about stealing him even with herself-Jonah was already hers. Not a joke, not a bauble, not a conquest or a drooling idiot-he was hers and he didn’t even know he was hers, but dammit he was and she wants to be with him in a way she hadn’t really been with anybody, because she hadn’t given a damn about anybody but herself since-well, ever.

He kisses her and the thoughts tumble over each other and are gone from her, just this careful soft and low burning hunger she can’t ignore, baser instincts now melding into higher, heartfelt ones in some kind of swirling mix of good.

”"Together,"

And the rumbling thunder is there but so is that gentleness, Kara’s hips moving to meet his as he found the place where they fit and- “Yes.” She sighs. It’s a tight, almost uncomfortable fit, but at the same time deliciously, impossibly -right-. She can feel little fluttering contractions around his intrusion as her body accommodates, adjusts to him as he sinks deeper into her folds. He draws a deep breath she feels inside and outside of her, her blue eyes slightly widened and filled with a soft sense of wonder and...love.

Jonah of the whale.

Kara’s hands touch and cradle his face, thumbs drifting beneath his jaw before her fingers slide down either side of his neck, his shoulders, his chest-before tracing around to his back and curling in closer to his chest, her bare breasts just barely brushing him as she ran her fingers over his shoulders-before she’s flat on the bed again, her legs wrapping around him and the fire back to those blue eyes, a hitch to her breath as she shifts against him, a stronger tightening of those inner walls around him.

Yes.” And this time the word was laced with fire and with lust as she pulled him into her, her fingernails lightly trailing down his arm and shoulder, her other hand straying to her own chest as she rocks her hips again, turning her head and pressing a kiss to arm. Wants. Wants.
 
Kara is all around him now - her hands on his chest, on his arms, her legs wrapping around his back, her body spreading and enfolding him in its entirety. It takes the breath out of him, and for a moment he just basks in this togetherness, this union he's come upon so different than everything he's known.

But then she sighs a word, an affirmation, and he can no longer hold still; Jonah rocks back, deep and low, then starts to sway forward in a ripple that starts at his chest and sinks deep between her hips at the end. Her core pulls him in, drags and suckles at his length as he withdraws, but it's Kara -

The pleasure is there, but it's Kara under him, smiling up at him, arms and legs winding about him. She has brought him here, into her life, her home, her heart, and now herself, and Jonah will give of himself everything he can in turn. His pace steady, he instead chases Kara's lips, nipping and planting kisses on her face, butterfly-light and playful, unable to contain himself, or just lie there and treat her like a toy for his pleasure.

It's Kara. God above, it's Kara, and she's taking him in, body and heart together. All of him, together, the killer and the hateful and the stone man, and shedding the cocoons from his skin, and leaving him naked, born in her arms a man of flesh and blood again that he'd forgotten. It's too much, but he won't turn away.

"Kara," Jonah rasps. "Thank you."

It's too much to say what he means. So it comes out in his hands and his lips, worshiping her pale skin, her soft, kissed-plump lips, and diving deep into the temple of her body. The heat bubbles in him, warm and rising, and he nuzzles down into her neck, breath catching.
 
Kara huffs a laugh at the fluttering kisses, a flick of her tongue against his lips. This is different than the jokes. This was, this was their very souls embracing, twisting tight. It’s sex but it’s more than sex, a physical stamp of proof of some kind-Kara doesn’t know. It’s just right, and it’s light, and she doesn’t think she’s ever going to be the same again.

He thanks her and there was again that sudden desire to protect him, a warmth and a softness deep in her heart that almost hurts her, would make her feel frighteningly vulnerable were it not for all his returned affection and innocent exploratory touches, his kisses and his warmth and his willingness to stray out into the unfamiliar with her, risk himself just as she was. His immense gratitude for what she feels he deserves, for what she wants to give him so freely. It’s just as strong and just as fierce as those first inklings of it all when she’d first coaxed him into her bed and cuddled into this touch starved, hard man. Her fingers stroke through his hair and she’s snaked her arm behind his shoulders, holding him to her in that exact moment because damn, this was a pretty, beautiful thing, and she has no idea how to entirely handle the full weight of that, right now.

Later, time for that later. Lots of time.

The edges of her out sex still tingle from his touch, from the very near spillover of everything. She hadn’t wanted it then because of either pride or competition or something, but mostly because she had wanted to take him with her, had wanted to make him crazy, she wanted to love him in the secret, heated way a woman could love a man. In a way she’s never done before, instinct and lust braced by care and attention, desire. Time for games later, now she wants to make him feel. She wants to make him feel.

She’s getting used to his size, it’s less uncomfortable and more good, a delicious feeling of fullness she just straight hadn’t entirely felt before. If she’d been thinking about it, his size would have honestly been intimidating, but she’d been rearing to go for long enough it hadn’t mattered. He’s on top, but that doesn’t mean she can’t participate, either.

Kara experimentally shifts back into him, an upward twitch of her hips into his next forward movement, her back arched and a rippled, light bounce to her soft breasts. She tightens those inner muscles and looks to manipulate him that way somehow, fluttering, tighter contractions in time with him.

“S’all ours.” There’s a hitch to her breathing she can’t quite catch up, new color coming to her cheeks and even her chest at the intimacy, the vulnerability here. “You, me, us-s’whatever we want it to be. What we want to be.” Together. She wants to be together.

“For now, the fun.” Kara bucks her hips into him and tightens around him like a fist, the fire flaring bright in her chest around their new and earnest love, sparking hotter and brighter than it had been mere moments before in their seeming mutual recognition of it. But she’s bad, and she wants him to be bad with her, and she wants-

She wants.
 
They start moving together - smooth, easy, her hips reaching up to take Jonah in as he slides deep, that magnetic tightness now rhythmic and alluring. His eyes cut low, and he can actually see the muscles in her abdomen and around her waist flex to squeeze his shaft or lift her body to welcome its intrusion. Of course, it also grants him a panorama view of her velvet-soft, curvy body, and it strikes him again just how attractive Kara is, how much he wants her, but now that hunger is filling.

Jonah's head comes back up and he plants a kiss on her lips again, unable to not do this with her perfect, pouty mouth so close, and then leans past to rub cheeks with her, the words caught in his throat. Instead, though, he now can express it other ways - he reaches down with a hand and takes hold of Kara's ass, and then lifts her outright into each stroke as he comes down into her. Her fingers are tight on the soft tissue, as much fondling as supporting her, but he's careful not to pinch.

The knots in his chest are coming undone, so ancient and convoluted he'd forgotten their existence, dark and thick and clotted chunks of emotion, and now fresh blood is flowing through into his heart. "What do you want?" he asks, breathless, and ducks to suckle lightly on Kara's throat, treasuring the little sounds that escape from it over his attentions. "Let me know. Let me give it to you."
 
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