[So you can say no specifically? is pretty much Johanna's thought, too, but she doesn't say it aloud (for once; happy Space Christmas, she withheld a sharp remark). Instead she just snorts, dismissively, and lifts her arms so she can run her fingers through her wet hair. The movement curls her against Kate a little, shifts hips and bare ass against her hips.]
Erik's been pretty good.
[Has been, present tense. That's like a was and is and will continue to be all at once.]
[ At least she can't see the face Kate makes, hidden as it is against her shoulder, pressed into the base of her neck like a kiss. Magneto has probably kissed her there, too is a gross thought and Kate bites down on it, teeth a dull scrape across skin. She presses closer against instinct, breasts squashed to Johanna's back, and the hand on her hip drags across her belly and down, fingertips stopped just short of sliding between her thighs. ]
He's good-looking in a dead-eyed sort of way, I'll give you that. I just don't see how you can stand him. You know he hates people without powers, right? Thinks people like us are like insects that deserve to get stomped on?
[The pressure of the bite, of the push of Kate's hands, and the push of her breasts--Johanna just smiles, as her eyes slip shut, just a little. The hover of Kate's touch is a little irritating. It would be nice if she would just dip her hand lower, all on her own. But she won't. Johanna thinks, idly, of making her, of grabbing hold of her hand--but doesn't, not yet. She can wait.]
I'd love it if he tried that on me. [Either the suggestion of stomping or an attempt: she doesn't qualify it, but leaves it open.] I'd kill him.
[And the way she says that is so plain and matter-of-fact that it would be difficult to argue with. Of course she would kill him. And if he stopped her, she would just try again, and again. She would kill herself before she gave up. That's how Johanna works, methodically crazy.]
I get what I want out of him, and he gets what he wants out of me. I like that. But-- [And she sighs, and sags back against Kate a little, relaxing into her.] He's never had me in the shower. That's what I want.
[ For once Kate doesn't argue when Johanna makes murderous pronouncements like that. Her dubious look is for the likelihood of success, not the sentiment. Well, partly for the sentiment too, if she takes a moment to let her nobler instincts fight through. Not that it matters, her face still hidden, tucked against Johanna's hair until she brushes it out of the way. ]
I have a ceramic knife from Arima you can have, if you want. [ That's a sexy thing to whisper in someone's ear, right? Kate noses at the shell of it and nips at the lobe, rewarding Johanna's patience with an arm that tightens around her as she tilts and callused fingers pushed down to stroke back and forth through soft folds. ]
At least there are ways around his power. I guess if I had to I'd rather deal with that than Xavier's, even if he is the better guy.
[She doesn't gasp. But her breath does catch, just a little; her hips ease back, down, a shift that leaves her legs that much more open, more room for Kate's fingers.
But she isn't done talking. Or thinking. Or beyond accepting the offer of a ceramic knife, which makes her grin, even as she gives a little shiver.]
Neither of them are better guys. I don't like better, or good.
[And truthfully she doesn't want to think of Charles Xavier right now, or Erik, or anything that isn't the warm pressure of Kate, against her, teasing at her. That's one good that she does like, the only good that she wants to think of, right now.]
But I want-- [And she arches back, just a little, her grin spread lazily across her face--] --I want your knife.
Yes you do. [ Kate grins and this time it's easy to hear the expression in her tone, and feel the curve her lips pull into against Johanna's neck. Maybe she should push back at that in a less teasing way, make sure Johanna really knows what she's dealing with. But...later. ] You like me, and I'm good. I'm great.
[ Kate's fingers make it even harder to argue with that sentiment than it should already be, quick and light exchanged for heavier touches, firm strokes and less teasing. She walks them a step and a pivot around so they're more beneath the spray, but keeps her mouth tipped to Johanna's ear close enough to be heard. ]
[I don't like you, she wants to argue, because she doesn't. What she feels toward Kate, or about Kate, it's different than like, and not necessarily in a good way. Just in a way. (" Friends (?) ")
But it is really hard to argue when she likes what Kate is doing to her right now, the pressure of her fingers, the lingering stroke of newly-calloused fingertips between her legs, and the heat of her breath, and her voice, at her ear. Good is the only word for all of that, and Johanna's knees weaken just a little. She tries to sag back against the wall instead, to manuever herself so Kate can do a better job of it.]
The knife.
[There's such heat in her voice. She doesn't try to hide it; she bites at her lip, more to hide her grin than anything. The flush in her cheeks, on her skin--it's less to do with the heat of the water, and more to do with Kate, just like the slick wet between her legs has less to do with the shower than with Kate, Kate--]
You. [Nearly a growl; she bites at her own lip again, but her grin still spreads You, I want you.
[ Kate laughs, a rich little chuckle, throaty and muffled at the end by the kiss she presses to Johanna's throat. ] You can have the knife. After this we'll go back to my room and get it.
[ She feels every shift of her weight, the way her knees loosen and her breath catches and skin warms. Kate curls around her closer, reaching further, pressing flush against her, like if she gets close enough she'll be able to hear Johanna saying her name in her head. Not that she has to, that grudging, grinning admission sending a thrill straight through her, adding a shiver of want to her voice. ]
You can have that, too.
[ She maneuvers them like they're dancing, step by step turned and slid, bare feet splashing. The shower heads aren't exactly luxury but they're not completely fixed either and Kate pulls it to spray the wall and leans back against it, feet pushed out between Johanna's, a base to support them both. Her hand never stops moving, pressure and friction and her first two fingers hooked into her. ]
Keep talking, [ she says, voice low and exhaled against Johanna's temple, ] What else do you want? With me? Now, or in general. Ever.
Edited (changing gears can't stop me nyah) 2014-12-30 00:31 (UTC)
[She follows after Kate--not lost, or blind, but eager for this, determined to get more. It's her eagerness that keeps her close to Kate, slick bare skin to slick bare skin. The promise of the knife, and the promise of more, both are good, enough that her grin tugs at the corners of her mouth again.
One hand she braces against the wall--the other at Kate, gripping at her shoulder to keep herself upright. The looseness of her knees, the tauntness of her face--and that taut curve toward Kate, her hips pushed forward, riding against the pressure of her fingers--and she laughs, too, breathless and a little angry.]
More, I want more-- [More, and now, a demand that comes from deep in her, not in her words but in her tone--] And I want you, I want you for hours. Tied up, and untied--dressed, and undressed--so hard it hurts, and then I want you to do the same to-- to me--
[The catch in her voice belies her; the little whine that her tone takes, as she pushes hard against Kate's hand.]
[ Johanna pushes back and there's no teasing today, no pulling away, no drawing things out or making her wait. She asks for more and for a change Kate just gives it right away, holding her up all the while with the arm locked across her torso, hand tight around a breast.
The breath Kate takes is shuddery against her back, an unsteady heave of ribs and shoulders that only presses her nearer. ] Yes. [ It's not exertion that thins her voice or speeds the thump of her heart against a shoulder blade, and she twists to find Johanna's mouth with her own, too hungry to care about the angle or the way her voice sounds when she speaks against her cheek, how easily she agrees. ]
You can have that, all of it. Today, even. I want to do what you want.
[Johanna likes control, and sometimes she likes to be controlled--but more than anything she likes the loss of control, not in herself, but in others. The eager press of Kate against her, the grip of her hands and the heat of her voice, of the kiss that she presses to her mouth--sloppy, hungry, so eager that Johanna barely has time to breathe, but she doesn't care. She returns the kiss in full force, her neck twisted, one arm bent back to hold to Kate, a grip in her hair that twists, too.
And when they draw apart, she can't help it--she gasps, first, sucks in a breath, and then she laughs, lazy and pleased.]
Today.
[More of a challenge than a question, and before Kate has time to take it back, or rethink it, she moves right on, her gaze colored dark and her voice rough with desire--]
[ Done. Johanna laughs and Kate grins, nevermind how twined up they are, how uncomfortable this position should be. It's fixed in a second anyway, when she lets go and slips out from behind Johanna, still without argument or obstinance. She's all eagerness, to comply, to press Johanna back, a forearm braced against tile at her side but doing nothing to keep space between them.
The shower pours down the wall, cascading off heads and shoulders. Kate makes enough room for her arm and a trickle of hot water and no more, fingers pressed back between Johanna's legs without delay, even as she's still arranging their knees and hips to fit comfortably together.
She wants another kiss but waits, ghosting one past Johanna's jaw, nosing at her cheek. ] And?
[It's just shy of a growl when she repeats it, breathless, laced with its own sense of need. Her head tips to one side, accommodating Kate's shift against her cheek. It moves her out from beneath the steady spray of the showerhead. Good. The thrum of her heartbeat is only from the close press of Kate, the fingers thrust between her legs. No thought of the water, of the sizzle of electricity. What better way to get over this than to fuck in a shower? A literal sort of fuck you to anxiety, to the Capitol, to President fucking Snow. This is a different kind of show, and the best part is, no one's watching. This is for her. Her head tipped back against the tile wall, Johanna smiles up at the ceiling, at the ship, at nothing and no one.
Her breath catches a little at the push of Kate's fingers. One arm--languid, rubbery--come up, hand dragged along Kate's side, tracing idle patterns against her bare skin before she grips hard, without warning, shoves down on her arm to push more of her fingertips against her.]
Kiss me. [Through her teeth, too savage to be a grin.] And then fuck me. Fingers first. Come on, Katie--
Kate laughs against Johanna's jaw, the sound wet from her mouth open around the bone of it, from the water dripping down her face. ] So impatient, [ she chides, with a sharp thrust of her fingers as both punctuation and obedience. She lets Johanna maneuver her hand where she wants it and tips her head to chase that kiss, hard enough to mash lips and knock teeth together when they meet.
Usually when she's got Johanna pinned like this that's when she'll tease-- which is probably at least half why it's a rare occurrence-- but that little retort is all there is today. After that it's quick and hard, just how she likes it, all the bits of feedback and preference Kate's picked up put to use. Three fingers and a kiss that drives her head back against the tile and lasts until they're both gasping for air.
Kate's got teeth in her throat almost before she has her breath back. ]
[It's a good thing for Kate that she opts not to tease, that she gives Johanna just what she wants, when she wants it. The firm authority in which Johanna pushes at her hand could immediately turn to something fiercer, if pushed--could, and would. She might bite if she's not given what she wants, and that would end badly.
But Kate doesn't tease, doesn't hold back. She thrusts her fingers, in, and Johanna makes a sound that might be a moan, if it didn't come through her teeth. Her head hits the wall; Kate's mouth covers hers, teeth and tongue and lips, and when they break apart, at last, Johanna's breath is ragged, uneven, as she thrusts herself right back against Kate's fingers, nearly stood on her toes to get the right angle. One hand grips at Kate's shoulder, steadying herself, as she arches against her, again, and again--
The question is so normal, even in Kate's own uneven tone. Johanna laughs, a sound that's just as ragged.]
No. [Still heated, still fucking herself against Kate's fingers, she answers, her head lolled back against the wall.] No, they-- didn't. Don't. And if you start--
[God, why are they talking; she lifts her head, just enough so that she can glare at Kate--wet, and flushed, and still managing to look a little angry--]
If you start, I'm dropping you. Now stop-- talking--
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alsohawkeye) wrote2024-01-11 07:28 pm
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[ So that she can then say no specifically? Or maybe not who knows (not Kate). Maybe she's just looking for recommendations. ]
Crossed off anybody good?
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Erik's been pretty good.
[Has been, present tense. That's like a was and is and will continue to be all at once.]
But you don't like him. Do you.
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He's good-looking in a dead-eyed sort of way, I'll give you that. I just don't see how you can stand him. You know he hates people without powers, right? Thinks people like us are like insects that deserve to get stomped on?
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I'd love it if he tried that on me. [Either the suggestion of stomping or an attempt: she doesn't qualify it, but leaves it open.] I'd kill him.
[And the way she says that is so plain and matter-of-fact that it would be difficult to argue with. Of course she would kill him. And if he stopped her, she would just try again, and again. She would kill herself before she gave up. That's how Johanna works, methodically crazy.]
I get what I want out of him, and he gets what he wants out of me. I like that. But-- [And she sighs, and sags back against Kate a little, relaxing into her.] He's never had me in the shower. That's what I want.
[Right now, anyways. And that's what matters.]
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I have a ceramic knife from Arima you can have, if you want. [ That's a sexy thing to whisper in someone's ear, right? Kate noses at the shell of it and nips at the lobe, rewarding Johanna's patience with an arm that tightens around her as she tilts and callused fingers pushed down to stroke back and forth through soft folds. ]
At least there are ways around his power. I guess if I had to I'd rather deal with that than Xavier's, even if he is the better guy.
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But she isn't done talking. Or thinking. Or beyond accepting the offer of a ceramic knife, which makes her grin, even as she gives a little shiver.]
Neither of them are better guys. I don't like better, or good.
[And truthfully she doesn't want to think of Charles Xavier right now, or Erik, or anything that isn't the warm pressure of Kate, against her, teasing at her. That's one good that she does like, the only good that she wants to think of, right now.]
But I want-- [And she arches back, just a little, her grin spread lazily across her face--] --I want your knife.
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[ Kate's fingers make it even harder to argue with that sentiment than it should already be, quick and light exchanged for heavier touches, firm strokes and less teasing. She walks them a step and a pivot around so they're more beneath the spray, but keeps her mouth tipped to Johanna's ear close enough to be heard. ]
You can have it. And this. What else do you want?
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But it is really hard to argue when she likes what Kate is doing to her right now, the pressure of her fingers, the lingering stroke of newly-calloused fingertips between her legs, and the heat of her breath, and her voice, at her ear. Good is the only word for all of that, and Johanna's knees weaken just a little. She tries to sag back against the wall instead, to manuever herself so Kate can do a better job of it.]
The knife.
[There's such heat in her voice. She doesn't try to hide it; she bites at her lip, more to hide her grin than anything. The flush in her cheeks, on her skin--it's less to do with the heat of the water, and more to do with Kate, just like the slick wet between her legs has less to do with the shower than with Kate, Kate--]
You. [Nearly a growl; she bites at her own lip again, but her grin still spreads You, I want you.
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[ She feels every shift of her weight, the way her knees loosen and her breath catches and skin warms. Kate curls around her closer, reaching further, pressing flush against her, like if she gets close enough she'll be able to hear Johanna saying her name in her head. Not that she has to, that grudging, grinning admission sending a thrill straight through her, adding a shiver of want to her voice. ]
You can have that, too.
[ She maneuvers them like they're dancing, step by step turned and slid, bare feet splashing. The shower heads aren't exactly luxury but they're not completely fixed either and Kate pulls it to spray the wall and leans back against it, feet pushed out between Johanna's, a base to support them both. Her hand never stops moving, pressure and friction and her first two fingers hooked into her. ]
Keep talking, [ she says, voice low and exhaled against Johanna's temple, ] What else do you want? With me? Now, or in general. Ever.
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One hand she braces against the wall--the other at Kate, gripping at her shoulder to keep herself upright. The looseness of her knees, the tauntness of her face--and that taut curve toward Kate, her hips pushed forward, riding against the pressure of her fingers--and she laughs, too, breathless and a little angry.]
More, I want more-- [More, and now, a demand that comes from deep in her, not in her words but in her tone--] And I want you, I want you for hours. Tied up, and untied--dressed, and undressed--so hard it hurts, and then I want you to do the same to-- to me--
[The catch in her voice belies her; the little whine that her tone takes, as she pushes hard against Kate's hand.]
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The breath Kate takes is shuddery against her back, an unsteady heave of ribs and shoulders that only presses her nearer. ] Yes. [ It's not exertion that thins her voice or speeds the thump of her heart against a shoulder blade, and she twists to find Johanna's mouth with her own, too hungry to care about the angle or the way her voice sounds when she speaks against her cheek, how easily she agrees. ]
You can have that, all of it. Today, even. I want to do what you want.
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And when they draw apart, she can't help it--she gasps, first, sucks in a breath, and then she laughs, lazy and pleased.]
Today.
[More of a challenge than a question, and before Kate has time to take it back, or rethink it, she moves right on, her gaze colored dark and her voice rough with desire--]
Then get in front of me. Come here.
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The shower pours down the wall, cascading off heads and shoulders. Kate makes enough room for her arm and a trickle of hot water and no more, fingers pressed back between Johanna's legs without delay, even as she's still arranging their knees and hips to fit comfortably together.
She wants another kiss but waits, ghosting one past Johanna's jaw, nosing at her cheek. ] And?
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[It's just shy of a growl when she repeats it, breathless, laced with its own sense of need. Her head tips to one side, accommodating Kate's shift against her cheek. It moves her out from beneath the steady spray of the showerhead. Good. The thrum of her heartbeat is only from the close press of Kate, the fingers thrust between her legs. No thought of the water, of the sizzle of electricity. What better way to get over this than to fuck in a shower? A literal sort of fuck you to anxiety, to the Capitol, to President fucking Snow. This is a different kind of show, and the best part is, no one's watching. This is for her. Her head tipped back against the tile wall, Johanna smiles up at the ceiling, at the ship, at nothing and no one.
Her breath catches a little at the push of Kate's fingers. One arm--languid, rubbery--come up, hand dragged along Kate's side, tracing idle patterns against her bare skin before she grips hard, without warning, shoves down on her arm to push more of her fingertips against her.]
Kiss me. [Through her teeth, too savage to be a grin.] And then fuck me. Fingers first. Come on, Katie--
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Kate laughs against Johanna's jaw, the sound wet from her mouth open around the bone of it, from the water dripping down her face. ] So impatient, [ she chides, with a sharp thrust of her fingers as both punctuation and obedience. She lets Johanna maneuver her hand where she wants it and tips her head to chase that kiss, hard enough to mash lips and knock teeth together when they meet.
Usually when she's got Johanna pinned like this that's when she'll tease-- which is probably at least half why it's a rare occurrence-- but that little retort is all there is today. After that it's quick and hard, just how she likes it, all the bits of feedback and preference Kate's picked up put to use. Three fingers and a kiss that drives her head back against the tile and lasts until they're both gasping for air.
Kate's got teeth in her throat almost before she has her breath back. ]
Did people ever call you Jo?
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But Kate doesn't tease, doesn't hold back. She thrusts her fingers, in, and Johanna makes a sound that might be a moan, if it didn't come through her teeth. Her head hits the wall; Kate's mouth covers hers, teeth and tongue and lips, and when they break apart, at last, Johanna's breath is ragged, uneven, as she thrusts herself right back against Kate's fingers, nearly stood on her toes to get the right angle. One hand grips at Kate's shoulder, steadying herself, as she arches against her, again, and again--
The question is so normal, even in Kate's own uneven tone. Johanna laughs, a sound that's just as ragged.]
No. [Still heated, still fucking herself against Kate's fingers, she answers, her head lolled back against the wall.] No, they-- didn't. Don't. And if you start--
[God, why are they talking; she lifts her head, just enough so that she can glare at Kate--wet, and flushed, and still managing to look a little angry--]
If you start, I'm dropping you. Now stop-- talking--