dovelike | (no subject)

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The Door opens onto the terrain at the base of Olympus, as always, but this second visit is slightly different than the first. They won't be hiking up the sacred mountain, not unless Clark wants to see it again, and the landscape is ordinary. Aside from being gorgeous and Mediterranean, anyway.

"Come on, my house isn't too far from here."

Eirene's smile isn't quite as blissful now, and the totally euphoric feeling has -- actually not disappeared, just lessened slightly.

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There's another quiet groan into her mouth this time, and Clark's hand starts travelling lower down her back. His lips may then start a trail of their own along her jaw.

Edited 2008-06-28 05:18 (UTC)

A low, almost sharp inhale is his reward, Eirene's fingers pressing down against his shoulders for balance, and her head tilting back.

The quickened heartrate is just a bonus.

A very nice bonus, as it's thundering in Clark's ears at the moment, strong and steady. And as his mouth begins to trail down her throat, he can feel her pulse as well as hear it, warm under his lips.

This might be where she forgets the fact that she's levitating, and might sag against him when her knees, or her brain, gives out.

Her suddenly over-sensitive throat is all Clark's fault, as is the whimper that accompanies it.

His arm is still strong around her, so she can sag all she likes. He's got her.

As for the whimper, well, like her before him, he's going to try and see if he can't get her to do it again. Because it was kind of hot.

She's grateful for it, and one of these day's she'll remember to tell him that. When her thought process isn't being demolished by his mouth.

There is, a minute or so later, a second whimper, and a rapidly failing bid to keep still, because squirming is so undignified.

Clark gets the idea well enough.

Then he remembers she likes to move, and somehow, ends up walking them to the edge of the bed, where he sits, cupping her face in his hands.

Aside from having maybe an inch height advantage for once, Eirene pays little attention to the new setup, aside from standing between Clark's knees, and, really, this just makes it easier to dip her head and kiss the tip of his nose.

And then his chin.

And then his lips again, because he'll make sure of that, hands lowering to rest at her hips now and pulling her just a little closer.

She doesn't mind, his hands are warm through the shirt she's wearing, and concentrating on his mouth again allows her fingertips free reign to trace along his eyebrows.

Thumbs eventually brush across each temple, before one hand threads through his hair, and the other dips toward his neck. And an ear.

His hands run slowly up and down her back. His mouth tries to keep up with hers, meeting when they get close enough, but trailing in the opposite direction when she kisses away to one aide.

Eirene is still trying to keep it light, in case he wants to stop soon, but the moment his fingers press against her back, she loses a great deal of that objectivity, and groans quietly into his mouth. Leaning into him is also more subjective than not.

He holds her against him, fingers continuing their work along her back, and his mouth at her throat. It doesn't seem Clark wants to stop any time soon.

So far.

Which leads into the third whimper as her head tilts back even futher, and a shallowing out of breath. Her heart, however, continues to speed up, in tandem with the squirming against his hands ... and the rest of him.

"Clark..."

Clark's hands clasp loosely at the small of her back, his nose buried in her hair. "Hmm?"

She finds her voice a minute later. "That feels very nice." Don't stop.

"Okay," he murmurs back. He'll keep doing that, then.

She'll continue to enjoy it. And possibly squirm as well, hands eventually sliding underneath his shirt.

There's a tiny whimper at the feel of her hands against his skin and then there's a breathless, "Eirene?"

"Mmm?" Fingers curl loosely against the skin just above his hips bones, her thumbs making slow lazy circles higher up.

Clark can't really get any more words out, so he just rests his head on her shoulder, hands gripping her hips.

Eirene isn't getting any negative vibes from what she's doing, so her fingers may eventually trail away from his hips, tracing errant patterns against his flesh on their way to exploring the warmth of his lower back.

This is possibly because Clark's brain isn't quite functioning properly anymore. In fact, with the way it is functioning, he may just tug her into his lap.

Which really only accomplishes two things; that Eirene is now straddling his lap, her knees on either side of his hips, and her hands sliding further up under the plaid of his shirt, along the curve of his spine.

Well, three, if her mouth pressing butterfly kisses across the planes and angles of his face counts.

It counts. It all counts toward Clark's breathing starting to become a little more laboured than usual and his hands starting to tease along the hem of her shirt.