SNOW CRUMBS PLEAS E PLEAQE PELASE PLEASE PLEASE
This was sent two years ago I am so sorry kahdlfad
For you, my friend. Part 1/2.
content: dirty talk, banter, a lot of kissing, f!reader
She melts into your lips, her moans and tongue spilling into yours. Your body shakes off the surprise in a second and meet her just as desperately. Tongues tangle and moans mingle until lungs burn for air.
She pulls away, her dark eyes like hot coal on your skin, catching embers on places where they linger. But where her gaze is pure sin, her skin glows softly under the candlelight like a blushing peach. Poetry and praise rise to your throat, but your tongue has other plans.
"Not so icy now, are we, Ice Queen?" The words light your shared breaths like a fuse, and she ignites with amusement, slow and molten across her face.
She laughs—nothing short of music—and the sound settles around your heart and somewhere further down between your legs. "You're the only one who dares to call me that these days."
"I've always been the daring sort. I wouldn't be kissing you right now if I weren't." Your hands find her hips and squeeze through the sheer (good lord) fabric of her nightdress. She yelps, holding onto your shoulders, as you pull her close and press your hips flush together.
"Well." She huffs, and her arms slither over your shoulders and around your neck, meeting your stare with desire dressed as defiance. "You're not kissing me enough if you can still tease around like this."
Even when dishevelled and kiss-bruised, she commands attention. And like a loyal subject, you obey.
"Then I shall apply myself as you desire, my queen."
She meets you halfway, kissing you with a devastating softness. What remains of you commit her taste, moans, and smell into memory like a scribe hearing her death knell. The seconds pass with increasing desperation in a flurry of groping hands and backward steps until the back of your knees hit the side of the bed.
You fall onto the sheets together without breaking apart. Even when surrounded by premium silk and linen, they are all sandpaper compared to the softness of her skin. Neither can the filigrees on the ceiling compare to the panting beauty perched on your hips as she stares down at you.
Before you can speak, she makes quick work of your clothes. Her frenetic hands unlace and tug until you're in nothing but your sweat-coated skin, trembling from being wanted this thoroughly. When she starts fumbling with her own clothes, your hands still them by the wrists.
"Don't be so hasty. Allow me, your majesty."
Her face burns, but she allows you to do as you please. You unlace the drawstring on her chemise, and the ruffled collar parts to reveal her collar bones and the first hint of cleavage. Your hands seek out her thighs, and she gasps—a wonderful sound—as you trace up the sensitive curves of her hips and waist.
"Are you comfortable?" As if pulled from her reverie, she takes a second to nod.
"It's been a while," she whispers. Her eyes, unwilling to look at you, settle somewhere on your bare chest. The unspoken story in her confession weigh on her shoulders, dampening the desire that made her burn only moments ago. That won't do.
You lean up to kiss her again—a gentle assurance. "Then we'll take this slowly. Let's discover what makes you tick, hm?" Her eyelashes flutter in the dim light as she takes in a ragged breath.
You laugh at that. "If only you know how many times I've thought too long of you and almost died."
Her mouth hangs open as she stares back in disbelief. "You're joking."
She bites her, mulling over her next words. "Will you tell me?"
"You seem awfully curious by my potential demise, my queen." You pinch at her hip, teasing.
"I'm involved so I deserve to know." She looks all mischief and delight as her previous fire rekindles.
You lean up, grasp her hips, and push her over in the next second. Now straddling her, you dip your head to her ear, breathing in her scent. "I can wax poetic the entire night about how your eyes have almost caused me to topple over from a ladder in the middle of painting a mural, or drink from a cup of paint water whe n I caught a whiff of lilies and remembered its fragrance from your wrist—but we only have one night where we can have each other fully, and heaven knows when another one might fall in our laps again."
Her gasp sparks a swell of satisfaction in you, kindling your lust into a fiery blaze. "But if you're still so curious," you continue, "allow me to write it on your body so that you may never forget."
Instead of diving headfirst between her legs, you create a trail of slow kisses down her neck and across her collar bones, drawing a necklace of plum-colored bruises there.
"That will considerably limit my wardrobe choices for the next few weeks."
"I'd rather have you completely naked if I could have it my way."
She slaps at your shoulder, but her peals of laughter show that she's more amused than offended.
"For your insolence, I could have your head."
"Oh, but I already plan on giving you that."
She gasps—more indignation that amusement this time—but the shock of red that colors her face means that your head will be off the chopping block and likely venture to more pleasurable parts in the foreseeable future.
"Now, let this humble servant work so that she can deliver on her promise."
(MILD SPOILER: SNOW IS GONNA GET WRECKED)
Note: Edited some redundant sentences and words
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