[She can’t help but shudder at the first touch, her thighs tensing. He’ll find her warm, wet, wanting; she’d been thinking about it for some time before she texted him, just wondering how it might feel to be grounded like this, to force some feeling into her body.
So far, it feels excell- oh, especially when he does that. The soft moan in her throat and the tiny buck her hips give aren’t for show, though she knows his eyes are on her. She catches his gaze, and smiles down at him. There’s a charmingly wicked glint in her eye.]
[ He wonders if the obvious arousal he can taste on the tip of his tongue is normal, expected, of it's surprising Clara herself that she's feeling it, engaged and willing and wanting. He wonders how much she feels and doesn't feel on a daily basis, how her body works at all. Someone without a pulse should be able to feel this warm, her clit shouldn't be pulsing against his lips.
It's intriguing him, making him push closer, fuck her with his tongue in earnest, fingers digging in her thighs. ]
[Honestly, it is surprising. She knew that she could still feel arousal - she's nothing if not a thorough investigator - but she hadn't anticipated feeling it like this, so hot and aching and overwhelming. With so much of herself missing, she wasn't sure she had the ability to lose anymore of it in sensation.
This is disproving her theory entirely. Her composure is officially gone. She presses down, riding his tongue, and moves her hand back to his head, holding him in place.
It really takes an embarrassingly short time, after that. Her steady litany of stifled moans stutter and quicken, her desperate ruts against his mouth lose their rhythm, until it all finally resolves, her muscles squeezing and pulsing around him, a noise she'll likely be embarrassed about in the morning wrestling it's way out between pants.]
[ Amos feels it all the way to his toes, when she comes. It’s a fast, urgent thing, Clara riding his mouth more than letting him do any of the work, keening and bucking and oh, oh so very far from shy, which is exactly what Amos wanted. It’s almost brutal, the way they move against each other, no desire to take it slow, no need for romance. Amos is an instrument to a goal here and he plays his part, locking up into her, closing his lips around her clit when he feels her tense, sucking hard as her knees close in further.
She comes, and he doesn’t think she could be faking this. He doesn’t think she would want to, anyway, and that’s why he feels it through his whole body, his heart beating hard as adrenaline and endorphins rush through his veins, his cock growing harder still, his jumpsuit now straining against it. He lets her ride him through it, the strokes of his tongue growing lazier as he tastes her at the back of his mouth, something he hasn’t done in a very long time. ]
[When Clara's toes finally uncurl, and she can at last unfold her knees from around his head, she eases slowly off of him, and sprawls sideways onto the rest of the bed. Her legs lie across Amos' stomach, two perpendicular lines, and her eyes take in the ridiculous, thrilling look of his face, all pink and glistening with heat and sex and her. She wants to kiss him. She wants to laugh. Who knew that she could feel this much?
Normally, she'd be winded after an orgasm like that. She'd be sweaty, her hair a mess, her body in need of a quick breather. But there's no drowsy, sated haze in her eyes when she looks back up at Amos. Instead, there's a slightly manic spark, almost a challenge.]
Get this off- [She brushes a finger against his jumpsuit.] -and show me what the rest of you can do, mister.
[ Amos takes in a few deep breaths when Clara moves, feeling almost cold all of a sudden. He licks his lips, enjoying the taste for a moment longer as he feels Clara's eyes on him. It's strange - he knows she should be panting, sweating a little, maybe even falling asleep before he even got to get his own, but she isn't. She looks - like she wants so much more, and Amos grins, a little crooked.
He lifts his hips and pushes his jumpsuit off of him, the fact that he doesn't wear underwear coming in handy right now, making it a fast thing to get naked. He lies here, naked and hard, and hooks a hand under one of Clara's knee. ]
[ Clara asks, and so Amos does, especially since her tone is amused, the look on her face mischievous. Amos has a feeling he's not going to mind whatever she's wanting to do, so he sits, his back against the bunk wall, and raises an eyebrow at her, waiting. ]
[Clara sits up and crawls into his lap with ease, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder. It's a bit more personal than some other positions, a bit less of an anonymous shag, but she wants the closeness, the proximity. She wants to press her chest against his, to feel his heart beating, to really know that she's with someone tonight.
A small, warm hand wraps around the straining length of him, tentative at first, and then bolder, recommitting the shape of a man to her muscle memory. She eases down just enough to press against him, heat against heat, a slow grind, slipping him through her folds once, then twice.]
[ He raises an eyebrow at her question, like it’s as nonsensical as it seems to be to him. He’s hard, he’s gasping when she takes a hold of his dick, he’s gripping onto her hips when she crawls into his lap, presses her chest to his own.
Oh, he’s ready. ]
Oh, I’m ready. [ He says the words out loud, his tone just a little bit derisive, as amused as hers. She must know he is, just teasing him a little longer. It’s another thing that tells him this isn’t anything like what he is used to. Johns didn’t tease and prostitutes only do it if you pay for it, which Amos doesn’t have a habit to do. This is - a real girl, her sex drive not entirely broken down to its component parts. Not like him. ]
[Clara smiles in response, giving a single, breathy laugh, then leans forwards to kiss Amos again, mouth warm and open. While he's distracted, she lifts up on her knees and guides him into her.
It's slow, at first, as she sinks her hips against his, slower than anything else has been tonight. His mouth left her unfurled, dripping, aching to be filled, but she doesn't rush it. She cherishes the push and the stretch, until he's nestled tight inside her.]
[ Amos' hands clench - one against her hip and one into the sheets under him - when Clara moves, sits on him, surrounding him with heat and want. He makes a noise at the back of his throat, a little of a groan, and forces himself not to thrust up, leave it to her to pick the speed she wants.
It feels - she feels good. In a place like this at a time like this, where they have very little for themselves and most of what they're doing is guided by uncertainty, this feels good. Easy. Amos doesn't have to wonder what would Naomi think, what would Holden say, what would Prax advise. This is an easy decision, a little selfish, very much like Amos.
He slides his hand around to Clara's back, holding her to him as he can't help it - he does twitch his hips up a fraction once she's sitting all the way on him, unable to prevent the movement. ]
[Clara feels that tiniest tinge of movement, just a stutter, just the first taste, and sucks a breath in. She knows he's trying to restrain himself; despite all his brawn, all his bravado, he's a gentle lover. Smiling, she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and runs a thumb over his jaw. It lands on his pulse just as her hips ease back up - an inch, at the most - and sink back down, rocking against his abdomen.]
I'm good, [ she says against his stubble. He can move, now, as he likes.]
[ He's not always gentle, but he's adaptable. Clara played her hand fast but it's obvious that she hasn't had anything like this in a while, and that fucking her from behind while pressing her face against the wall is not really on the menu for tonight.
Amos has worn all sorts of faces and masks in the past, especially under such circumstances. He usually finds it easier to pay for sex, because he doesn't have to pretend he has feelings. It might be why this is nice - Clara's definitely not anything like the kind of girls Amos pays for back on Pallas or Ceres, but she also doesn't care if he has feelings for her. Neither of them do.
It makes things... easy.
And so Amos pushes off from the wall a little, slides his hands around Clara's ass, squeezing a little as he moves, pulls her up and lifts his own hips, fucking up into her, slow at first, but moving faster as electricity rushes through his veins. ]
[She bears down into each thrust, body arching against his, trying to feel as much as possible. At the same time, she presses her chest even closer, tangled up tight with him, until she can feel the rise and fall of his panting on her own lungs, imagine that the pounding of his heart is hers coming back to life. It just turns her on even more, fanning the heat in her belly. Even if she can't squeeze out a second orgasm this time, it still feels damn good.
The obvious is true - she hasn't had anything like this in ages, and she doesn't give a damn whether this man sees her as anything more than a casual acquaintance. Sex can be pure, wild fun for her, but this was what she had been needing, this face-to-face closeness, something that she can pretend is passion. This was the craving she needed to get out of her system, the desire to feel real and alive. It could be that she never meets anyone again who loves her, who wants her in every way, but at least right now she feels less lonely.]
[ In every way that Clara might want, Amos obliges - he knows what this entails for him - an orgasm, bone-deep satisfaction, a feeling inside his chest that is only ignited by these endorphins. It dies out quickly, but he knows it's what he can expect, and he knows he can make himself pull back from it just to get Clara where she needs to be, feeling what she needs to feel.
Amos raises his knees as he buries his face in Clara's neck, sure to leave some irritation where his beard has been - will the traces last on Clara or will they disappear, no blood to come to the surface? He isn't sure. It's an intriguing question. He forgets about it as he tips them over, lying Clara down on the bed, taking charge. One of his hands pulls one of her legs to rest around his hip as the other finds its way between their bodies, fingers pressing against her clit like his tongue did earlier, moving in rhythm with his hips. He looks at Clara, leaning down for a kiss, more forceful now, a little less control in it all. ]
[In the morning, she might be embarrassed of the urgent sound that slips out when he touches her, of the hunger with which she kisses back, fingers digging into his back. She might be confused, even, at the fact that a one-night stand with no desire for romance is showing this much dedication to her pleasure. But for the time being, she just holds on and lets Amos take her apart, unabashed and beyond willing.
It doesn't take long, not with her body so starved of touch, and Amos somehow so keyed into just what she needs. She whines into his mouth - mortifying, honestly - as her muscles contract around him, sharper and harder than the first time. Her heels press into the backs of his thighs, surely leaving marks.
[ It might be a one-night stand, but he's tuned in to how different from the sex he usually gets this is. He's not going to go at it with half-measures like he might sometimes in one of Ceres's brothels, and this is easy. This is barely effort, to think about her, to feel her arch against him as she comes again, bringing him suddenly a lot closer himself.
He pulls back a tiny bit as he starts moving in earnest, fucking Clara hard and fast, now, with a view towards a goal. Still, as he gets closer to his own orgasm, he grabs one of her hands and places it on his chest, above his heart. She seemed to want to feel it. ]
[Her palm presses close right over his heart, like she's trying to memorize it, feeling how it falls in and out of line with the rocking of his hips. Even with her own arousal sated and finished, her stomach thrills at the familiar motion, the unmistakable push and pull, the dirty rhythm of human intimacy. It all seems to spell out: In this moment, you are not alone.
She presses her lips to the side of Amos' throat, and holds onto his heartbeat for as long as he'll let her.]
[ There are times where Amos can't stand having hands on him. Where being touched feels wrong, and makes him lash out. And then there are times where he craves it, the intimacy, especially when it's not accompanied by the heaviness of feelings, no pain, no hurt, no nothing. Just pleasure, a connection that is there to last for a moment, and just that.
Amos stays close, one hand over Clara's, the other at her hip, keeping her in place as he thrusts into her, faster and faster, groans getting louder with each of his breaths, heartrate picking up until - until he freezes, muscles tensing as he comes, a gut punch feeling that spreads throughout his limbs, breath caught in his throat for a moment. He lets out another noise, low and from the back of his throat, rolling his hips a couple more times as he comes, probably crushing Clara a little under his weight. ]
[Clara soothes her free hand over his back, into his hair, easing through each jolt and shudder, until he falls still against her chest. One pounding heart, one pair of panting lungs, one sweat-slick body between the two of them. She holds close, trying to share the afterglow, trying to feel everything she can.]
... Jesus, you're heavy. [At least for a few moments. She laughs, and uses the hand over his heart to try to roll them over.]
[ She's given him enough time that he rolls over easily, pulling her on top of him as he does. He'll be on his way soon, but right now, he's going to spend a minute to enjoy the afterglow. ]
[ He can't fall asleep - not here. He gives it a few more moments, allowing his heartrate to get back to normal, allowing his skin to cool a little, before he gently extricates himself from Clara's embrace, sitting up and grabbing his jumpsuit from the floor. ]
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So far, it feels excell- oh, especially when he does that. The soft moan in her throat and the tiny buck her hips give aren’t for show, though she knows his eyes are on her. She catches his gaze, and smiles down at him. There’s a charmingly wicked glint in her eye.]
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It's intriguing him, making him push closer, fuck her with his tongue in earnest, fingers digging in her thighs. ]
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This is disproving her theory entirely. Her composure is officially gone. She presses down, riding his tongue, and moves her hand back to his head, holding him in place.
It really takes an embarrassingly short time, after that. Her steady litany of stifled moans stutter and quicken, her desperate ruts against his mouth lose their rhythm, until it all finally resolves, her muscles squeezing and pulsing around him, a noise she'll likely be embarrassed about in the morning wrestling it's way out between pants.]
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She comes, and he doesn’t think she could be faking this. He doesn’t think she would want to, anyway, and that’s why he feels it through his whole body, his heart beating hard as adrenaline and endorphins rush through his veins, his cock growing harder still, his jumpsuit now straining against it. He lets her ride him through it, the strokes of his tongue growing lazier as he tastes her at the back of his mouth, something he hasn’t done in a very long time. ]
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Normally, she'd be winded after an orgasm like that. She'd be sweaty, her hair a mess, her body in need of a quick breather. But there's no drowsy, sated haze in her eyes when she looks back up at Amos. Instead, there's a slightly manic spark, almost a challenge.]
Get this off- [She brushes a finger against his jumpsuit.] -and show me what the rest of you can do, mister.
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He lifts his hips and pushes his jumpsuit off of him, the fact that he doesn't wear underwear coming in handy right now, making it a fast thing to get naked. He lies here, naked and hard, and hooks a hand under one of Clara's knee. ]
How d'you want me?
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Sit up.
[It sounds half like an order, and half like a laugh, like a kid suggesting the next carnival ride.]
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A small, warm hand wraps around the straining length of him, tentative at first, and then bolder, recommitting the shape of a man to her muscle memory. She eases down just enough to press against him, heat against heat, a slow grind, slipping him through her folds once, then twice.]
You ready? [ she finally asks.]
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Oh, he’s ready. ]
Oh, I’m ready. [ He says the words out loud, his tone just a little bit derisive, as amused as hers. She must know he is, just teasing him a little longer. It’s another thing that tells him this isn’t anything like what he is used to. Johns didn’t tease and prostitutes only do it if you pay for it, which Amos doesn’t have a habit to do. This is - a real girl, her sex drive not entirely broken down to its component parts. Not like him. ]
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It's slow, at first, as she sinks her hips against his, slower than anything else has been tonight. His mouth left her unfurled, dripping, aching to be filled, but she doesn't rush it. She cherishes the push and the stretch, until he's nestled tight inside her.]
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It feels - she feels good. In a place like this at a time like this, where they have very little for themselves and most of what they're doing is guided by uncertainty, this feels good. Easy. Amos doesn't have to wonder what would Naomi think, what would Holden say, what would Prax advise. This is an easy decision, a little selfish, very much like Amos.
He slides his hand around to Clara's back, holding her to him as he can't help it - he does twitch his hips up a fraction once she's sitting all the way on him, unable to prevent the movement. ]
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I'm good, [ she says against his stubble. He can move, now, as he likes.]
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Amos has worn all sorts of faces and masks in the past, especially under such circumstances. He usually finds it easier to pay for sex, because he doesn't have to pretend he has feelings. It might be why this is nice - Clara's definitely not anything like the kind of girls Amos pays for back on Pallas or Ceres, but she also doesn't care if he has feelings for her. Neither of them do.
It makes things... easy.
And so Amos pushes off from the wall a little, slides his hands around Clara's ass, squeezing a little as he moves, pulls her up and lifts his own hips, fucking up into her, slow at first, but moving faster as electricity rushes through his veins. ]
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The obvious is true - she hasn't had anything like this in ages, and she doesn't give a damn whether this man sees her as anything more than a casual acquaintance. Sex can be pure, wild fun for her, but this was what she had been needing, this face-to-face closeness, something that she can pretend is passion. This was the craving she needed to get out of her system, the desire to feel real and alive. It could be that she never meets anyone again who loves her, who wants her in every way, but at least right now she feels less lonely.]
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Amos raises his knees as he buries his face in Clara's neck, sure to leave some irritation where his beard has been - will the traces last on Clara or will they disappear, no blood to come to the surface? He isn't sure. It's an intriguing question. He forgets about it as he tips them over, lying Clara down on the bed, taking charge. One of his hands pulls one of her legs to rest around his hip as the other finds its way between their bodies, fingers pressing against her clit like his tongue did earlier, moving in rhythm with his hips. He looks at Clara, leaning down for a kiss, more forceful now, a little less control in it all. ]
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It doesn't take long, not with her body so starved of touch, and Amos somehow so keyed into just what she needs. She whines into his mouth - mortifying, honestly - as her muscles contract around him, sharper and harder than the first time. Her heels press into the backs of his thighs, surely leaving marks.
Damn.]
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He pulls back a tiny bit as he starts moving in earnest, fucking Clara hard and fast, now, with a view towards a goal. Still, as he gets closer to his own orgasm, he grabs one of her hands and places it on his chest, above his heart. She seemed to want to feel it. ]
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She presses her lips to the side of Amos' throat, and holds onto his heartbeat for as long as he'll let her.]
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Amos stays close, one hand over Clara's, the other at her hip, keeping her in place as he thrusts into her, faster and faster, groans getting louder with each of his breaths, heartrate picking up until - until he freezes, muscles tensing as he comes, a gut punch feeling that spreads throughout his limbs, breath caught in his throat for a moment. He lets out another noise, low and from the back of his throat, rolling his hips a couple more times as he comes, probably crushing Clara a little under his weight. ]
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... Jesus, you're heavy. [At least for a few moments. She laughs, and uses the hand over his heart to try to roll them over.]
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Wager I'm what? 2, 3 times your weight?
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Probably. [One hand combs through his damp hair.] I’ll try not to suffocate you.
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[ He can't fall asleep - not here. He gives it a few more moments, allowing his heartrate to get back to normal, allowing his skin to cool a little, before he gently extricates himself from Clara's embrace, sitting up and grabbing his jumpsuit from the floor. ]
I'll get going.
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Don't be a stranger.
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