[ Luna is happy no matter what way this goes. Dragging him to the sofa is always quite a good choice, but she would very much like to see where Peter's option goes. It's something a bit different, after all. Good kind of different, something a little thrilling — a lot thrilling. Her takes her hands and she grins, hurrying along with him with an eager little spring in her step as he draws her out from the kitchen.
Her back soon meets a space of wall in the hallway and he presses against her, offers a fresh wave of kisses. She feels drunk and hungry all at once, meeting the urgency of them with enthusiasm. Her arms reached up once more; one hand quickly gathering in the fabric of his shirt, the other sliding up to his face — keen to keep him close.
When he moves away she takes the moment to catch her breath, panting softly against the side of his head — clumsily presses a kiss there. It feels good, and she's falls into a short hush, enjoying the sensation of his mouth at her neck. His hand gently tugs at her thigh, moves it upwards, and she cracks open an eye curiously — it takes her a few long beats to work out what he's trying to do, oh. Oh, she knows what he's trying to do. She collects herself, focuses, hooks the lifted leg onto his waist. Her hands shift slightly, bracing herself onto his shoulders — squeezing briefly to signal, mentally counting to him. ]
« One, two.. » [ On three, she hops for him to catch her — lifting up her second leg to join the other about his waist, grips his shoulders for balance and presses her back into the wall to keep her steady. A laugh escapes her; it's clumsy and the slightest bit awkward trying to get their bodies organised, but it's exciting too — this is definitely bold. She likes bold very much.
... But then Luna realises what being like this means as he shifts closer, the new positions of their hips now the difference of height has been corrected. A soft whimper escapes her lips; a mix of realisation, relief and anticipation. As enjoyable as it is, there's a growing frustration of being able to hit the right angle while they've been standing.
But now, like this?
There's a tentative, slow roll of her hips; testing the new angle, and she's rewarded with the right enough friction in the right spot. There's another little whimper, this time out of pleasure. ... No, this is far better for them. She adjusts her legs; wrapping them tighter about his waist. Her thighs squeeze slightly, trying to coax him to grind into her with the tiniest mental plea: ]
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Her back soon meets a space of wall in the hallway and he presses against her, offers a fresh wave of kisses. She feels drunk and hungry all at once, meeting the urgency of them with enthusiasm. Her arms reached up once more; one hand quickly gathering in the fabric of his shirt, the other sliding up to his face — keen to keep him close.
When he moves away she takes the moment to catch her breath, panting softly against the side of his head — clumsily presses a kiss there. It feels good, and she's falls into a short hush, enjoying the sensation of his mouth at her neck. His hand gently tugs at her thigh, moves it upwards, and she cracks open an eye curiously — it takes her a few long beats to work out what he's trying to do, oh. Oh, she knows what he's trying to do. She collects herself, focuses, hooks the lifted leg onto his waist. Her hands shift slightly, bracing herself onto his shoulders — squeezing briefly to signal, mentally counting to him. ]
« One, two.. » [ On three, she hops for him to catch her — lifting up her second leg to join the other about his waist, grips his shoulders for balance and presses her back into the wall to keep her steady. A laugh escapes her; it's clumsy and the slightest bit awkward trying to get their bodies organised, but it's exciting too — this is definitely bold. She likes bold very much.
... But then Luna realises what being like this means as he shifts closer, the new positions of their hips now the difference of height has been corrected. A soft whimper escapes her lips; a mix of realisation, relief and anticipation. As enjoyable as it is, there's a growing frustration of being able to hit the right angle while they've been standing.
But now, like this?
There's a tentative, slow roll of her hips; testing the new angle, and she's rewarded with the right enough friction in the right spot. There's another little whimper, this time out of pleasure. ... No, this is far better for them. She adjusts her legs; wrapping them tighter about his waist. Her thighs squeeze slightly, trying to coax him to grind into her with the tiniest mental plea: ]
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