[How she manages to form full sentences at this level of frustration is a miracle. She's practically climbing him at this point, her grip on his arm turning tighter as she grinds against his hand for more. No matter what, it's dissatisfying, only serving to wind her up more, making that coil deep in her belly contract, but go nowhere.]
[He'll take pity on her, though -- or maybe it's just taking pity on himself, because he can't keep doing this for much longer without getting way too frustrated. So he pulls his hand away finally, grinning at her.]
How d'you want it?
[Even as he speaks, he's reaching down around his ankles to pull his pants up for a second -- but just for the sake of grabbing the condom from his pocket. Hey, at least he'd been prepared for that, even if he hadn't greeted her at the door naked. Maybe next time]
[If that's not clear enough, she could make it even more straightforward, but she'd rather kiss his jawline, his throat, and across his chest than talk. Every patch of warm skin she finds, she puts her mouth on. A girl can entertain herself while he's busy.]
[Yep, that's pretty damn clear, and he doesn't even give a verbal response to it, because he's too busy getting the condom on and then turning her around to bend her over the table, hand on the small of her back, just a little bit rough, a little bit quick and desperate in his movements. And then he can't resist trailing his hand across her ass, because...]
[Her voice is tight with frustration and anticipation both. She can't help but glance back over her shoulder, hair falling across her face to shadow her eyes and she certainly can't help the wiggle of her ass and the push of it into his hips. Impatient? Definitely.]
[He'd have a more flippant and witty response if he weren't so busy staring at the way she's wiggling her ass. And a few seconds later, forget staring, because he's getting himself lined up just right to push into her, slowly at first, and then harder and a little more insistently once he realizes how damn good she feels. It's not like he forgets, exactly, how perfect she feels when he's inside of her like this, but thinking and reminiscing about it could never be even a tenth as good as actually experiencing it.]
[It hasn't been that long since they last slept together, but Jesus, does it feel like it's a brand new experience. A gasp winds its way out of her throat as she throws her head back and curls her toes against the hard wood floor, feeling him stretch little used muscles again. He feels bigger than he looks, but that's no complaint, not when she's tightening around him, pleading wordlessly for him to move.]
[Not really, and his tone of voice doesn't sound at all contrite. He's notoriously talkative in bed -- or on a table, as the case may be -- and he knows she knows it, but he can try to shut up for the time being. It'll probably last for all of ten seconds, but he can say he gave it an effort, because for whatever reason, he always feels compelled to listen to what she says. Better not to psychoanalyze the reasons behind that. Better to just start moving, wrapping one hand around her hip, the other hand going back to her hair, as he sets a quick pace. So much for trying to take it slow, but neither of them want that much anyway, he doesn't think.]
[Psychoanalyzing during sex is an absolute no and it's not something Angela wants to take up now or ever. All she wants is what he's giving her now, rough and frantic, rubbing up against sensitive spots just right. The table scoots along the floor with the force and her moans grow louder with each stroke and she just does not care if the neighbors hear. Can't give a shit beyond the way he's making her feel, the way she has to hold onto the edge of the table for dear life.]
[He's already breathing hard, and a lot of that could have to do with the fact that they're moving the table with every thrust. So what if the neighbors hear? Anyone who hasn't invested in earplugs after living near him for more than a couple weeks is obviously interested in listening in, anyway.
His grip on her hip is tight, like he's anchoring himself, just the way she's holding onto the table, and now his eyes are closed, because it's not like they can make eye contact like this anyway. And, true to form, he can't keep his mouth shut -- there's a steady stream of profanities making their way from his lips, and he's not trying to stop them.]
[There's nothing like being in this position where she, the one who likes being in control, is forced to give it up and depend on him to fuck her like she needs to be. She enjoys it, being able to just feel and nothing else. Nothing else but let her pleasure be heard through her voice, how she's curling her feet against the floor from the sensation, leaning her head against the cool surface of the table, hearing him curse and groan and talk to her all through it... it'll be damn hard not to end up calling him everyday for this.]
[He sure as hell wouldn't protest being called every day if this was how it turned out. He's aware of the fact that both of them need this in an odd way, need to be able to empty out their minds and just focus on the sensation, and so he tries to make it as good as he possibly can, tries to give her everything she could possibly want.
With that thought in mind, and nothing else, he wraps his hand around her, his intent obvious -- he isn't satisfied just to be thrusting into her, he wants to touch her, too, to rub her clit and see how fast and how hard he can get her to come.]
[She doesn't think she could find somebody else in the City right now that is able to just let loose and do things, no holds barred, like he can. No questions asked beyond the ones about availability, no judgements on what she likes and what he likes, just pure unadulterated sex on demand.
And it's not too bad that he works hard to please, to get that electric jolt through her body when his fingers brush up against her clit, to make her scream at the top of her lungs and let everybody know Jimmy Darmody is a good lay.]
[It's almost a growl, the way he says it, wanting so badly to push her over the edge that he can't concentrate on anything else. Even his own pleasure seems somewhat distant at the moment, secondary to how he's making her feel and the way he can feel every muscle in her body respond, not to mention the noises she's making, which're more intoxicating than anything else ever could be.]
You feel so... fuckin' good...
[At least she hasn't forcibly shut him up yet. That's more than he can say for some people.]
[Shutting him up would be hard when she's babbling just as much as he is, all wordless and breathless. She knows she's just so close, closer still with his encouragement, that edge to his voice doing things to her that she's never thought possible. He's so pure and free with his words that she can take them at face value and know he's just talking during sex just to talk, but because it feels just as good for him as it does for her. She doesn't want him to stop, ever, and her grip on his wrist is tightening the closer she is to the edge, keeping him right there against her clit.
Her body isn't under her control anymore and she chokes out his name, cut off at the end at the sudden rush of heat throughout her core, the twitching of her muscles, and the shake and shiver of her entire body. It's too much all at once but just enough in the end.]
[There's something so unbelievably overwhelmingly perfect about being able to make her feel that way. The way she's gripping his wrist firmly, the way she's saying his name like that, like she can't even get all the sounds out, and the way he can feel that full-body shiver go through her all push him even closer, too. He knows he can't hold out particularly long, but he also knows he's not even going to try.
Right now all he needs is the quick pace, the way she feels under and around him, and he runs his hand down her back again, only slowing his thrusts a slight bit, not wanting for it to be too much for her, when her body's undoubtedly sensitive now from the sensations that'd just coursed through it.]
[She moans against the table, both pleased and exhausted, grateful he has the presence of mind to move his hand away. Angela would never say he's a lazy lover, not with the way he pays attention to how sensitive she gets at this point, every thrust multiplying the aftershocks that are already there.
Angela could sleep a thousand years at this point, but it's his turn now and when she pushes herself up on her hands, using the table as leverage to change the angle while grinding her hips back against his, she hopes it feels just as good to him.]
[Oh, it feels good to him, all right, and she's not going to be doubting that from the noises he's making. It's not like he's a screamer or even a shouter, but he can be pretty damn loud when he wants to be, and from the way she's grinding her hips, he definitely wants to be. His grip tightens on her hip slightly, pressing into her as deeply as he can, really relishing every movement she makes.
If he were more ambitious, perhaps, he'd try to hold out, try to see if he could get her off again, but he's already barely hanging onto control by the tips of his fingers, and it doesn't take much to let go entirely, to let himself finish with a couple more swift thrusts and a drawn out, low groan, his forehead coming down to rest between her shoulderblades for a moment, just breathing raggedly, letting the pleasure wash over him.]
[For what it's worth, for all that she doesn't want this to be sappy or peppered with feelings, she lets him rest against her, softly stroking a finger across his arm just before she brings his hand up to her mouth to kiss his fingertips. Her toes and legs are sore from tiptoeing she never noticed she was doing and so's the rest of her. Just how she wanted it. A good sore. The kind that said she had a grand old time on Jimmy's kitchen table.]
[She's secretly glad, no, not secretly because it's pretty much an open secret between them now that she's glad she can come to him anytime and get that itch scratched and more. Even though she has to wince a little when he slides out of her, she's still thankful. Never shall she go celibate any more.]
[He saunters over to get rid of the condom, and then comes back, not particularly bothered that he's not wearing his pants. He'll deal with that later.]
[If he doesn't care, she cares even less. He lives here, he can be in any state of undress he wants to be. Angela, however, takes the time he leaves to deal with the condom to get dressed, or at least mostly. By the time he comes back, her shirt's back on, but she's having issues finding her panties.]
Rough day? [This question comes from underneath the table where she's giving him another great view of her ass.]
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[How she manages to form full sentences at this level of frustration is a miracle. She's practically climbing him at this point, her grip on his arm turning tighter as she grinds against his hand for more. No matter what, it's dissatisfying, only serving to wind her up more, making that coil deep in her belly contract, but go nowhere.]
Am I going to have to fuck myself?
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[He'll take pity on her, though -- or maybe it's just taking pity on himself, because he can't keep doing this for much longer without getting way too frustrated. So he pulls his hand away finally, grinning at her.]
How d'you want it?
[Even as he speaks, he's reaching down around his ankles to pull his pants up for a second -- but just for the sake of grabbing the condom from his pocket. Hey, at least he'd been prepared for that, even if he hadn't greeted her at the door naked. Maybe next time]
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[If that's not clear enough, she could make it even more straightforward, but she'd rather kiss his jawline, his throat, and across his chest than talk. Every patch of warm skin she finds, she puts her mouth on. A girl can entertain herself while he's busy.]
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Damn, that's a nice view.
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[Her voice is tight with frustration and anticipation both. She can't help but glance back over her shoulder, hair falling across her face to shadow her eyes and she certainly can't help the wiggle of her ass and the push of it into his hips. Impatient? Definitely.]
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[He'd have a more flippant and witty response if he weren't so busy staring at the way she's wiggling her ass. And a few seconds later, forget staring, because he's getting himself lined up just right to push into her, slowly at first, and then harder and a little more insistently once he realizes how damn good she feels. It's not like he forgets, exactly, how perfect she feels when he's inside of her like this, but thinking and reminiscing about it could never be even a tenth as good as actually experiencing it.]
God, Ange...
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You're talking too much.
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[Not really, and his tone of voice doesn't sound at all contrite. He's notoriously talkative in bed -- or on a table, as the case may be -- and he knows she knows it, but he can try to shut up for the time being. It'll probably last for all of ten seconds, but he can say he gave it an effort, because for whatever reason, he always feels compelled to listen to what she says. Better not to psychoanalyze the reasons behind that. Better to just start moving, wrapping one hand around her hip, the other hand going back to her hair, as he sets a quick pace. So much for trying to take it slow, but neither of them want that much anyway, he doesn't think.]
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His grip on her hip is tight, like he's anchoring himself, just the way she's holding onto the table, and now his eyes are closed, because it's not like they can make eye contact like this anyway. And, true to form, he can't keep his mouth shut -- there's a steady stream of profanities making their way from his lips, and he's not trying to stop them.]
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With that thought in mind, and nothing else, he wraps his hand around her, his intent obvious -- he isn't satisfied just to be thrusting into her, he wants to touch her, too, to rub her clit and see how fast and how hard he can get her to come.]
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And it's not too bad that he works hard to please, to get that electric jolt through her body when his fingers brush up against her clit, to make her scream at the top of her lungs and let everybody know Jimmy Darmody is a good lay.]
Oh, god, fuck, Jimmy, shit.
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[It's almost a growl, the way he says it, wanting so badly to push her over the edge that he can't concentrate on anything else. Even his own pleasure seems somewhat distant at the moment, secondary to how he's making her feel and the way he can feel every muscle in her body respond, not to mention the noises she's making, which're more intoxicating than anything else ever could be.]
You feel so... fuckin' good...
[At least she hasn't forcibly shut him up yet. That's more than he can say for some people.]
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Her body isn't under her control anymore and she chokes out his name, cut off at the end at the sudden rush of heat throughout her core, the twitching of her muscles, and the shake and shiver of her entire body. It's too much all at once but just enough in the end.]
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Right now all he needs is the quick pace, the way she feels under and around him, and he runs his hand down her back again, only slowing his thrusts a slight bit, not wanting for it to be too much for her, when her body's undoubtedly sensitive now from the sensations that'd just coursed through it.]
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Angela could sleep a thousand years at this point, but it's his turn now and when she pushes herself up on her hands, using the table as leverage to change the angle while grinding her hips back against his, she hopes it feels just as good to him.]
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If he were more ambitious, perhaps, he'd try to hold out, try to see if he could get her off again, but he's already barely hanging onto control by the tips of his fingers, and it doesn't take much to let go entirely, to let himself finish with a couple more swift thrusts and a drawn out, low groan, his forehead coming down to rest between her shoulderblades for a moment, just breathing raggedly, letting the pleasure wash over him.]
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Hey.
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Hey. Feelin' better now?
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[She's secretly glad, no, not secretly because it's pretty much an open secret between them now that she's glad she can come to him anytime and get that itch scratched and more. Even though she has to wince a little when he slides out of her, she's still thankful. Never shall she go celibate any more.]
How about you?
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[He saunters over to get rid of the condom, and then comes back, not particularly bothered that he's not wearing his pants. He'll deal with that later.]
Guess that was just what I needed today.
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Rough day? [This question comes from underneath the table where she's giving him another great view of her ass.]
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[That is a very nice view. He'd've been concerned about finding his own pants, but he has to stop to check her out, first.]
You havin' a rough day? Kinda figured you were, from how quick you jumped on me.
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As if she had no idea what she was doing and what he was doing.]
No, just horny. Didn't like it?
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