» dance -- dance, Aero/challie

[aracelia grayson]

It seemed he was either prepared to take in her words and live in the moment, or he was simply moving on from them without thought. Whichever it was, Aracelia Grayson let him do it as she would have let him do almost anything else that involved the pair of them in those moments. As invested in the moment as he was, so was she, and she let herself be swept away with little resistance, although the brief, sharp notes of pain when their bodies connected at certain points sent low and jolted hums of pain through her nerves. She was able to ignore them for the time being, able to move with relative ease and without gasps or winces as Aero held back a little, treated her gently and with reserve, gracefully noting her injuries and pressing onwards anyway, something that she thanked him silently for with every kiss she laid on his skin, every caress she dealt him with her fingers. She met his eyes as he pressed into her, his hands buried in the couch cushions on either side of her and despite herself she let out a soft gasp that arose half from half pain and half from pleasure but was entirely tangled in excitement and acceptance, and above all a wish for him to continue.

She pressed her lips against his, cutting off the gasp by melding their mouths together, kissing him eagerly as if it would erase everything else, giving to him as she gave in to him, her fingers roaming across his chest and shoulders, one hand still caught in his hair, teasing those silky strands as her fingertips edged lightly across his scalp. Their lips remained as tangled as her hand was in his hair for a long moment until they broke apart and she rose her hips up to meet Aero's, legs twining about his, her feet finding the gentle curve behind his knees as a piece found its rightful place in a puzzle and she laughed breathlessly, opening her eyes to look at him, watching his face in wonder and in happiness and in enjoyment, her hands finally finding their place at his waist, caressing his smooth skin. "I don't think I'll ever be able to get enough of you, Aero Maglev," she murmured softly, settling a kiss at the edge of his lips in a break between words and an attempt to breathe, "Not today, not tomorrow, not the next day - not ever." Ara planted a light kiss on the plane of his cheek before moving onto his jawline, nudging his head up a little with the tip of her nose so that she might bestow a kiss on his neck, just to the right of his Adam's apple. "Certainly not now."

There would be time later for lamenting certain things about this relationship. There would be time for thinking after this was all said and done and touched and felt and maybe screamed. But right now she felt like there was perfection within reach, she felt as if there was nothing that could stop or separate them, like nothing could bring them down from their physical highs - not even the pain that moved under their skins, and certainly not thoughts of what might happen after they moved on from these infinitely perfect sets of moments. She curved a hand up behind his shoulder, pressed her fingertips gently into his shoulder blade and raised herself up to meet his body, chest pressing against chest and muscles screaming, but she found she didn't care, couldn't care, wouldn't ever care so long as she was in his arms. Their lips clashed again, parted and she drew in a hitched breath to let out a short laugh as their bodies found a rhythm, a rhyme to their reason. "Keep going, Aero. Don't ever stop," was her breathless intonation as her fingernails drove light crescents into the skin on his back.

Aero -- 670 -- After a brief interlude, resuming transmission...

I’m two quarters and a heart down
and I don’t want to forget
how your voice sounds

[aero maglev]

A postcard from where life is a thrill

It seems that she had stolen him yet again, just as he did her. Working together without effort to rip away the looming fate that lay ahead of them. The dread wrecked his mind over and over, and would continue to do so without these kind of moments to consume him. She tugged him into her so that the world lay beyond his fingertips and out of reach. The thoughts floating into the void, back behind the line where it still threatened to leak in in spite of his efforts to keep it away. There he could be with her, away even from his own thoughts just within the frames of those moments with one another. She barred him from thinking by the taste of her lips and light flutters of her breaths. The heat rising between them only to be swallowed up by the ever rising beat of their breaths. The weight of the world lifted off his shoulders as he slipped down into where it couldn't touch him anymore. It was only them and the hypnotic beat that moved between them. And for the first time since they'd first crossed each other in the heat of that party, he felt a bit like himself again. Stripped away of all that had happened to him, leaving merely the scraggly boy from District Six in arms of the scraggly girl from District One. In the flurry of heated kisses and gentle laughs, he knew she too had fallen into the same state. Holding on to merely the moment where nothing could touch them. Where there was no more world to inflict them.

The dulcet murmurs between kisses spelling out confessions that were never really confessions. The victor found it so amused that even then she couldn't keep it to herself, that her words simply flowed without an ounce of restraint. Nothing more than mumbles in the throes of lust, yet still held weight with him. A smile cracking upon his lips, a small returned laugh of delight as her lips traced across his skin. The tilt of his head gave way for her lips to wander absolutely intoxicated by every movement that flowed through her body, feeling it from the inside out. Traces of ache patterned along the surface of him, just enough to let him know it was still there. By then, Aero's injuries scarcely slowed him, only enticed him to move more, encourage the patter of Ara's fingertips against his battered skin. Strangely, he found himself enjoying the light cocktail of contrast from the bruises. Each time the provocation of soreness tugging him slightly out of the haze, giving a little taste of reality but not enough to drag his thoughts. Little reminders that they were real, they were human, they weren't dreaming. Soon their wounds became less like wounds but badges of mortality that reminded him that what connection they had meant a lot. How deep it went and how rare it was in contrast to the other encounters he'd experienced in his short life. That the expulsion of their lust this time around had become something different than the time before; its strength was terrifying and intoxicating at the same time. And even with that terror lingering somewhere in the back of his mind, it failed to stray him.

A hand fled along Ara's back as she pushed up against him, hurrying up and up to cradle her and rake the edges of his fingertips into her hair. A rasp caught his throat, a careless little noise extracted and swallowed whole again by her lips. The second hand of his lifted to latch upon her thigh, raking itself up along her buttocks, feeding its craving for the softness of her skin. To hold her to him with a firmness. Both stripped of their breaths and chasing after them with every tug and pull of their bodies, the victor's head gave into the curve of her neck. "No," he rasped, puffed breath bouncing off her skin. A belated response after expending too much effort to lock her words to their meanings. Lips catching the lobe of her ear just a beat before it slipped from the gentle graze of his teeth. "Until you scream," he whispered in a light tap back into that rare side she so effortlessly pulled out of him. That relentless playfulness, the one that agreed to a race. That laughed at every corner turned. That bite of pleasure that sparkled in his eyes. It was hers, all hers to have and manipulate and coax out of him in the smallest and rarest of doses. Nothing that could take him away from something so good and pure. Not with the moment that was theirs. His body followed hers back down, moving together, against each other in a twist of hips and heat and the graze of damaged flesh upon damaged flesh. Driving him up and up before their movements became somewhat of a race, a desperation till he was holding back from skidding over the edge of a cliff. Another explicit noise rung in the back of his throat, pushing him forward and further. His fingers found themselves edged around the corner of a cushion, clinging into the plushness to keep him grounded. To keep him from flying. To shove her forward and barreling up and into the sky before him

TAG
Ara

COUNT
897 words

NOTES
wow there

[aracelia grayson]

In those moments she was a slave to him, completely and utterly sold to his movements and his words, rapt by his touch and his hitched breath. Whatever he might have ordered her to do, she would have done it without hesitation because she simply trusted him, could't help but give him anything that would make him happy, enjoyed the small noises that escaped him and in turn escaped her, the soft moans, the breaths caught in the backs of their throats. The visuals were just as good as the soundtrack, because even battered and bruised she could gaze upon him all day and all night and never, ever, get bored. There was always a new curve to find, a dip of the skin that was discovered in a different light, that fraction more of a smile to gather from him lips, and those depth less eyes to lose oneself in repeatedly. In those moments it was both not enough and too much. It was perfect, and yet she would always be left wanting more of him, more of this, more of them. Something had convinced her it would always be so, although that was perhaps a flight of fantasy given the impossibility of it all. The impossibility of them being happy or getting what they want. This was not their world, after all, this was not the Districts who had (in some strange way) more freedom than they would in terms of relationships, and especially Aero because he was the coveted one. That was enough of that thinking for one night, however, and she left off as his teeth closed about her earlobe, tugged at that gentle curve of flesh and pulled a soft groan from her lips as he spoke.

The side of him that had surfaced was one she would always enjoy, and one that he would probably always enjoy as well. It made her happy, it made her smile softly, and as their movements fell together and their bodies worked into a fine frenzy, called to one another in encouragement and frustrated them at the same time, she tilted back her head, pressed her scalp into his fingers, felt his touch curving about her thigh and higher, clutching at her as she clutched at him with her body, with her muscles and her hands alike. Between them they built a high tower of ecstasy, an intense feeling from which there was only release and a spiralling fall into pleasure. They built a fire that would burn until they could burn along with it, flames that would lick at their skin and a combined heat that would steal their breath as much as it would call for them to go faster, harder, longer. Caught in the flames, caught in the moment, half closed eyes, she let a soft cry fall from her lips, his nickname dripping with need and urges, alight with ecstasy. "Aero..." It wasn't a scream, but it would grow into one the faster they went, and it would be repeated between soft cries that urged him on. Between them they built their skyscraper of need, stretched themselves taught. Aero pushed her higher and higher until she was clinging to the very pinnacle of it all, until she could do nothing but fall away over the edge, his name rounded and full on her lips, screamed into the air as her fingers dug into his skin. Ara was completely helpless as she folded under his touch and without hesitation gave in. She gave in to the pain, to the pleasure, to anything and everything and let her head fall back as she twitched beneath him, still wrapped in the throes of the moment, still riding the waves that spread out and upwards from between her thighs, from where they were joined. "Aero," she murmured again, a thank you and a sigh of bliss all at once, but not a scream this time, simply a soft utterance.

Aero -- 661 -- Yeah. Well merited M.

I’m two quarters and a heart down
and I don’t want to forget
how your voice sounds

[aero maglev]

A postcard from where life is a thrill

Truly in Ara's way, Aero had been tugged beyond the scope that dictated his every movement and thought. How flawlessly she did it never ceased to amaze him. She stole him away from himself and for herself and the more she did it, the more he was certain that he'd have it no other way. Every tiny component of her enraptured him up and away. The taste of her lips, the smell of her skin, in the ways she moved with him and around him, pulling him in in each and every way made him breathless and heeding her desire for more of him - more of everything. The coo of her cries, the sound of desperation in the way she called his name and its power to propel him further and deeper until every bit of him ached for release. The swell of ecstasy merely an itch away and while he'd withheld it from himself for just a bit longer, it drove him wild in the best of ways. Then in merely a snap of a moment, a clench and a twitch and a cry drove him over the edge along with her. His own exasperated moan lost in the depths of hers. Both of them rasping and raw wound up in the heat of each other's skin and breath.

Letting go until they both plunged into the deep, floating up back to the surface to merely lay in awe. The simplistic pleasure swirling around, softly twitching and riding out the waves as they became less and less. The victor's fingertips running down the skin of her back and back up again in a slow, soothing motion. Their clutching grips on each other fallen useless, yet he didn't drift from his spot. A patter of breaths rose and dropped his chest as he lifted his head which had fallen into the curve of her neck. There he drank in the sight of her in her haze whilst still fully submerged in his own. Lightly tucking away a mangled strand of hair away from her eyes as a smile stretched themselves across his lips. It lasted only a small moment, one that felt to have lasted longer than it did, before he dealt upon a long, but soft kiss on her lips - a return of thanks and a subtle return of his need for her as her need for him.

Simultaneously, it felt as if all components of their time together were sewn up tight as one singularity. Their beginning, middle, and end fusing together in a discombobulation of emotion and memory. Their life together, whatever it was or would become. It had just started, it was in motion, and already the fear of its end dawned upon the rapt victor. He remained entirely in awe of her and entirely terrified of her and what would become of her, of him. Of all the possibilities that lie ahead, many ended in disaster. The cards shared between them, by all means realistically, were grim in the cosmic scope of odds of an entirely happy ending. They weren't normal, their lives weren't normal, they weren't allowed to have normal. It was enough jar him and urge him to cut his losses, instead he held on and refused to let go in hopes that he could merely push back their ending as far as it could go. He knew she would be doing the same. Because in the scope of all things, the present was good, it was unbelievably delectable and rich filtered in a forbidden shade that made it all the more eager to fight for. Ara would be there to keep his feet firm in the present moment where it belong while he fought for an unsure future and an unsure cause, only knowing it to be far better than whatever road he was headed down before.

TAG
Ara

COUNT
644 words

NOTES
now for shenanigans