nysalogs | We were the victims of ourselves

[Maybe it's the addition of her words, but a certain heat floods his face as she expresses how pleased she is with his advances so far. It spreads from ear to ear, flooding some ways down his neck as they kiss in a manner they have several times already, augmented by the press of her breasts to his chest. In the moment, he's succumbed, chasing her lips as she goes to speak again--

More approval; if he's learned anything so far, it's that she hasn't much to gripe about. His head tilts in accommodation, in offering. It's alright to match her boldness, probably. She's done nothing but encourage that. It isn't as if he's shy either, he can't exactly claim total ignorance regarding this sort of thing either. His interests were always just staked elsewhere: being abrasive, excelling and failing at school simultaneously, pursuing the mystery of existence. He has his strengths and they do not lie in undressing women and smoochin on them.

Stark awareness of such a thing can only urge him on. It isn't until she's finished marking him (or he thinks she's finished) that he decides to move (the twitch between his legs upon maybe-completion of that blemish doesn't count as moving), turning to move her onto her back while claiming the spot atop her without separating their bodies a whole lot in doing so (and hopefully without making her whack her head on anything??) so they're more or less entangled as they have been. He only adjusts to push the jumpsuit further down himself, inspired to expose himself ahead of her all of a sudden.

Or maybe it'd just become too uncomfortable to have his dick at odds with that weird spandex shit. While he peels it down a thigh, kicks it off his foot, he's balancing his weight on both hands, eyes focused on hers.

Though it'd be complete bullshit to suggest he hadn't taken a handful of proper once-overs at what she's presented him with so far. ~~Topless girls: cool.~~

He'll be leaving his other leg as is, still clothed because it's a fucking hassle. He's also going to pretend it provides some extra warmth -- oddly enough (or not), he has enough body heat to combat their situation for the moment. He's comfortable until indicated otherwise. Slotting himself back atop her helps just as well, and he's proceeding like it's no big fuckin' deal, aligning their lips, palming a breast with unnecessary force (he's either pressing the pedal to the floor or driving like a grandpa on Sunday), her nipple eventually slipping intermittently between his fore and middle, middle and ring fingers. It's his turn to suck on her fuller lip.

Nobody can deny his ability to pick up on shit pretty quickly ok.]

[The hickey is a small one, not much to write home about, but it'll have to be enough because then he's moving them, shifting their positions until Allura is on her back, her hair in a halo around her head and upper back. It probably looks nice, from Keith's perspective, but it's in the way a little bit when Keith plants his hand near her head. But then he's yanking off the rest of his suit, and very suddenly there's a lot more to show off than his older, fuller man-chest.

Heat floods her face as she notes that — put simply — humans and Alteans are anatomically compatible.

There's not much time to comment (she wasn't going to comment anyway) before he's kissing her again, notching up the intensity from where they'd been moments before. The hand on her breast is insistent, bordering on uncomfortable, but it's preferable to shy touches, especially when he's paying special attention to the more sensitive nipple, eliciting a moan that slips out a touch louder than she'd been intending.

Meanwhile, she's at a bit of a loss with what to do with her hands, intermittently going from his shoulders to his back, to his forearms. Always carefully above waist height for now.]

[For all of that confidence moments ago -- maybe this was too much at once? The nudity, groping, smoochin' triple threat; all it takes to rebuild that poise is that moan. His tongue flicks between that offering, but doesn't delve in. He isn't trying to smother her as much as encourage it.

Just two dudes encouraging eachother.

She can dilly dally with her hands all she'd like. Those touches are nice, her fingers are learning him and he can appreciate that. On the more unceremonious side, his dick's kind of pressing against her stomach anyway -- between that and the folds of her suit. The good news is: while the alternating friction feels nice, he's not dry humping her. Not yet.

For a moment, he thinks to ask whether or not he should help her remove the rest of her suit. Or do a partial thing like he's done for himself. He foregoes that, busies himself with drawing his tongue over the old bruises he's left, treads lower still.

Stop him if he's not supposed to be kissing on her neglected bobby.]

[It is a little overwhelming, somehow, like this compared to how it was moments earlier. His hands and mouth are reason enough, not to mention the part of him that's pressing a little too boldly against her stomach. But it's the sounds — her own stuttered breathing, catching in her throat when his mouth descends past her collarbones to leave wet sounding kisses on her breasts. They're not even really going to town yet, (maybe it's the acoustics of the igloo, or her own Altean sense of hearing) but she sounds loud to her own ears. Lewd.

She's getting really turned on.

In a bid to relieve some of the ache building between her legs, she arches her hips against his, grinding against him. ~~Who's dry humping whom.~~]

[His mouth leads him down her sternum, parting with a wet noise as her hips lift practically to meet his. There's some reciprocation, winding against her in turn; his dick's still favoring her tummy, though it occasionally bumps against the coverage of her suit which is totally fine. It offer some alternate friction, elicits a lilting sound to mark the variations. He'll stop after a short while, straddling her stomach while taking that suit with both hands, working it lower...

Slowly. Painstakingly so, presenting ample time for her to prevent him from doing it or...allowing her the chance of taking over. She may want to commandeer that bit. In the meantime, he's already unceremoniously leaking precum from his head, coating himself just a bit, smearing her midriff in the same instance.

He can't help it...]

[It's an indecisive moment, where at first she lifts her hips so he can tug the suit lower, then changes her mind and sits up a little to assist, looking between them so she can more easily shimmy out of her suit. At least that's the intent but, she stops, half propped up onto her elbows. The way he's leaking.... fluids onto her is immediately distracting and she's very obviously staring.]

Oh. You're....

[Self... lubricating??? Sort of? Her eyes dart to his, with a slightly alarmed expression of is this supposed to happen?? Cue first weird human mating experience.]

[He's moving about, trying to accommodate whatever she needs in order to shed her suit, but there's a hangup of sorts; he follows her gaze, stares between their bodies, looks up with darkened cheeks, a half glare weighs on his brows.]

I'm what?!

[Don't fucking say it. His dick's gonna shrivel up. If she's ever watched a porno, she should know her next words should be some variation of so huge!!

Which will do nothing to stave that blush, but it might save their marriage.]

[She realizes that stopping and staring right at the apex passionate grinding and de-clothing isn't the best move, but she couldn't help it and there's a distinct record scratch moment where they are both frozen, his hands still balled into fists in the fabric of her suit, and her hips still half-raised to help him do it.

Heat is boiling over into her cheeks.] It was just. You- [There's absolutely zero ways to answer this question that aren't equally terrible.] I didn't expect it, is all.

[It's a lame answer and she's already stammering out a clarification,] I mean, we are different- some newness is to be expected!

[A hand abandons post, only because it's easier to prop himself up without being fully occupied.]

Didn't expect what?!

[His wiener? He's refusing to acknowledge that precum. It's probably gone cold by now, similar to his pulse. His brain's racing to catch up with all the things she could possibly be referring to: maybe declothing as much as he had was a mistake. They're different, beyond gender -- they should've talked about this beforehand.]

You just said you liked it-!

[In a desperate attempt at removing any blame for himself, especially if it has to do with sex, because holy shit Allura picked the wrong human to experiment with...]

[Her hips are back on the ground and she's looking a little bit like she wants to disappear into a hole right now. Don't make her say it...!]

I did! I do.

[But then he's getting defensive and her blood pressure rises in turn,]

Why are you upset? You weren't any different when I removed my clothes.

[Balking and staring. Speaking of, they're having this argument in full tits-out position.]

What are you talking about?!

[This is objectively the best time to have an argument, because it could potentially lead to hate (that's a strong word) sex, or..

Or more likely the latter, which is them pulling their stuff back on and pretending this never happened.]

I'm not upset! I'm just -- I'm just asking.

[He's making more of a ruckus over this shit than anything leading up to it. Gradually, he's looking more and more flustered...and by gradually I mean all at once more or less. He's blushing hardcore, avoiding eye contact....]

[He sounds upset! He's not looking at her and she can't decide whether to cover her face in embarrassment or to take a second look at the glistening (and cold now, against the winter air) residue he left on her stomach. The passion is quickly draining out of the room, like all of the heat that was building between them, At a loss, she huffs,]

Does it matter? It's a reaction to stimulation I'm sure. So you didn't do anything wrong.

[Isn't Keith glad he decided to fool around with an alien who is a bigger dunce when it comes to intimacy than he is?]

Wait -- what?!

[Obviously she was oogling his dick or whatever, but he wasn't 100% sure what had suddenly gripped her focus. Obviously he has an erection about things, obviously--

It's possible Alteans don't get boners and such. Yeeks.]

Why would you even say that?!

[He's not mad he's just embarrassed about his dick okay. It's like someone bringing up an unsightly rash all of a sudden, a lazy eye...]

Wh- You just asked me!

[He wanted to know why she was freaked out and that's why! It's possibly they're having a failure of communication here as well as everything else going on. He's not mad but she's getting a little upset about the whole thing and is low-key scooting backwards, not fully disengaging but the distance between them is growing.]

It's getting cold.

[In more ways than one.]

-- Sorry.

[The cold is an easy distraction; rather than pulling away he's just kind of slumping to the side, arms spread in offering...invitation? 600 steps may've been taken in reverse, but hey, he's trying to stick around and not freak his freak out about this?! Nudie cuddling is better than a full retreat.

They may save this rendezvous yet.]

If you do that, it'll just get worse.

[They certainly did take 600 steps backwards. It stung a little, to go from such a passionate high back to the awkward and stilted silences that was so common between them, especially because it definitely felt like it was her fault. But it is what it is, and Allura can't deny that all of the romance got sucked right out of the room in the last minute, (even if her body is still ready-to-go and wondering what the heck just happened).

She lets out a slow sigh and relents, tentatively scooting back into his arms, into his warmth. It's almost back where they started, but with less clothes so it's hard to know what to consider this now. Should she snuggle up as close as before? Or did he need his space now? How complicated did she just make things?]

I'm sorry.

[~~Do you see what the other thread was talking about!!~~]

[As soon as she rejoins him he's settling forward, semi-pinning her beneath himself. Dregs of intimacy combined with retaining warmth...]

Don't be sorry. It's -- [~~YES.~~ It's not a sorry situation, hm.] it's not like that.

[Should he even attempt to resuscitate their tryst? How does one even? Depending on how she's arranged herself, his semi's either pressing into her abdomen again or resting against a slit of some sort. Apples and oranges, choose your own adventure.]

[Let's go with the latter, variety is the spice of life. Keith settles his weight on her again, and she has no complains about it, but he's not the only one in limbo about how to regain footing, and so for a minute she's just kind of laying still, unsure. The pressure of his body on top of hers, and especially where his dick is resting, is enough to get her body warm again, the vague ache that came from wanting to couple, even if her mind is still debating.

Experimentally, she shifts her hips, and maybe she shouldn't have freaked out so much about his fluids, because if he's pressing against her slit at all, it should be pretty obvious how wet she'd gotten from their earlier fooling around.]

Do you want to stop?

[A good question when their parts are already pretty close to party town.]

[The fact that she even has to ask should be indicative to only the ominous.

But it's cool man, because Keith doesn't know wrong from right, aside from the very heavy feeling that he may have effed this up. May. He's not sure whether she's just adjusting herself or what, but the motions enough to make him squirm, move enough to bump himself impolitely against her thigh.

They've come this far...]

..N.....no?

[To the tune of Vol Tron?]

Should we?

[It's hard when your halfway ready to go and all of the steam got sucked out of the room and now both of them are blaming themselves for it. She cups his face in her hands, frowning as she runs a thumb over his cheek,]

Maybe we should just-

[And she pulls him down to kiss her again, slowly, closing her eyes and easing back into it. It still feels like she did something wrong, but surely this tryst is salvageable. At least she's stubborn. Stubbornly shoving their faces together and rubbing her thigh against him in turn, with purpose. Trying to reignite some of that passion.]

[He's lured in without protest, purses his lips and reciprocates that affection without any qualms about it in contrast to his stammering a moment ago. One kiss eases into another and another. Not talking seems to be the best route here, not talking works for him...

A classic case of actions > words. She may feel his dick pulsing back to life just the same, slowly but surely, not that it'd ever gone entirely flaccid -- the whole thing was salvageable enough to reignite his shit in under five minutes.

Even if, in the moment, it was a lifetime scarring event.

So his hips are drawn close, a leg nudges at one of hers. It's all chased with some subtle... subtleish grinding. It's a come up.]

[Stubbornness wins out and they don't seem to be doing a too bad job of picking things back up. There is probably a warning to be had, when not talking is the key to making sure they don't bicker all of the passion out of the room, but she's too busy not-talking to think too hard about that.

Her hands are still caging his face, urging him to tilt his head into hers as their kisses deepen, feeling the temperature tick back up by degrees, and by the time she feels his not-so-subtle grinding, she feels a familiar coil of desire low in her stomach, making her breath catch.

Instinctively, she gives way to his nudging, easing her legs further to either side of him, (feeling the ridiculous way his jumpsuit is still hanging half off of one leg, but that's unimportant.) As the weight of his hips settles more firmly she opened her eyes to meet his, a quiet sort of affirmation of what they're physically gearing up to do,]

[It isn't exactly how it's done in the movies...probably, or even in books, but their persistence is key here. Mutual grinding and the warmth between them, there's an indication to proceed and...

After all this build up, he ain't tryina fumble here. Not again. He'll draw in a breath, hold it, grip himself by the base and...very casually rub himself against her slit; it's similar to those earlier shenanigans but this time with more purpose; searching...

Because fuck if he's ever put his wiener in a chick before, wtf. This is gonna end up being a perchance happenstance unless he gets a birds eye view of her hooha...and if that happens this whole rendezvous is dead.

So yeah, organically, with purpose, he's tryin'a slip n' slide his way in.]

We were the victims of ourselves

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just using bad icons from now on

i appreciate it

this is the worst tag i've ever written in my life.

i want to agree but i feel like i could trick you into worse things

that isn't to say that it's the worst tag I'll ever write.

now i feel better

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we've been writing this thread for four months

it is my fault,