A Rough Sketch
Tagging → Andrea Sheldon & Gunnar Leidolf Time Frame → Thursday Evening | July 9, 2015 Location → Gunnar’s place General Notes → Otherwise known as “Miss Sheldon Lives for a Day”.
Andrea took the truck this time. After her run-in with a body and increasing numbers at the bar, she decided she didn't want to be carrying her art supplies on Susan. And the truck was faster, she wasn't exposed. Her dad was turned in for the night and wouldn't need it again until morning. The ride to Gunnar's was uneventful, aside from stray animals and the occasional other car. She'd come up with a couple sketches for his wall, and while she wouldn't be able to paint tonight, she was pretty excited to plan it out. She always itched for something bigger, her pieces now near her ceiling against the walls of her studio, and this was it. It would just be there, and no one could mess it up. The canvas couldn't snag. She parked when she got there, grabbing a black case from the passenger seat, stopping the engine and getting out. Assuming the door would be open like last time, she turned the knob and discovered she was right. "Hello?" she called out, walking into the hall and to the main space.
Gunnar wasn't really interested in the offerings on television; it was mostly background noise to his drinking. He rolled the slim neck of the beer bottle between his thumb and forefinger, while the action played out onscreen. It seemed incredibly cliche, watching Road House on his night off but it beat actually working at the bar and dealing with drunk college students looking for shit to do on their summer break. He heard Andy approaching long before she opened the door and he turned his head when she entered and offered her a nod as he rose from the couch. "Evening. You want something to drink?"
Andrea walked over and set her case on the table by the couch. "Water's good, if you have it." She paused, rolling her eyes at herself. "I mean, of course you have water. I would like some," she managed. She didn't wast time sitting down. She remembered the wall he referred to last time, as she'd been picturing it in her mind while sketching. She had a small moment of doubt as she thought about what she came up with. "You know, there's still time to back out. We can take a trip to an IKEA and see if they have any good countrysides."
Gunnar gave a small snort as he padded towards the kitchen to retrieve a small bottle of water. "Nah. Fucking hate countryside. Fresh air and...birds, and shit. Fat kids in short pants staring creepy-like from some field. I'll pass." He passed her the bottle and settled on the couch again. "Think I'm good with whatever's knocking around in your head. "
Andrea took a sip of the water, swallowing before she laughed at his bizarre description. "Fat kids in short pants with creepy stares? Where are you seeing this art? Were there instruments of torture nearby? Was that a nun thing?" The image she had actually seemed more terrifying than any beasts. "That's messed up," she said after another sip. After a moment, a lightbulb went off. "Are you talking about cherubs?"
Gunnar shook his head. "Nah. Cherubs are the fat, naked ones. Puffy cheeks and pointing at Jesus, with those sad eyes. The fat kids in the countryside, there was a painting at the home, that one of the nuns had in her office. Creepy children in front of a farmhouse. Real Children of the Corn shit." Full lips twisted into a frown and Gunnar took a sip of his beer. "Never cared for 'em since then."
Andrea realized she was wincing as he described the painting and straightened her face, taking a long gulp of water. "Yikes. That sounds like hell. It also makes me think whatever I paint up there couldn't screw you up much if you had to stare at that daily. If anything it'd just remind you of what surrounds you here," she said, finishing the bottle and setting it down for the time being. "I brought some graphite so I could grid tonight." Grabbing her sketchbook, she sat next to him, opening it to the sketch she was leaning toward the most. "It's not too bad, mostly trees and these figures," she explained, waving her hand over the drawing. "Some teeth, lots of eyes, some disembodied..."
Gunnar gave a solemn nod. "Aye. Anything's better than punished children in breeches." His gaze was drawn to Andy's work, and Gunnar took a moment to asses the art. Though he wasn't much of an art expert, he could tell she was talented. The scene she set was dark and graphic, but oddly beautiful in a gruesome sort of way. Reflexively, his fingers traced the lines on the sketchbook, his eyes drifting up to the wall, trying to picture the scene's transfer from paper to canvas and he glanced over at Andy, his smile brief but meaningful. "It's proper fucking twisted. But I like it. A lot. You got a good hand for this sketching business."
Andrea bit her lip and nodded. "Well thank you. You smiled so I'm taking that as the full okay. I'm not doing anything crazy yet, just gonna see if it fits on the wall. That's why I brought blue tape." She got up, taking the book with her and going to set it on the floor by the wall before pulling the tape and a pencil out of her case. Thinking about where to start, she turned to him. "Do you have a step stool by chance?"
Gunnar arched a brow at her question. "Sure, lass. It's right next to the recipe books." Despite his momentary sass, he did manage to produce an old but sturdy crate for her to balance atop of. "D'ye need me to do anything," he asked, folding his arms and assessing the massive wall. "Not sure how much help I'd be, with this."
Andrea shook her head and watched him set the crate down before standing on it, pushing up on her tip toes to place the edge of the thin tape against the ceiling. "It won't take very long to grid. You can just spot me since I'm tippy-toeing on a crate and I'm not graceful," she said, pulling out the tape and dragging it to the bottom before kicking the crate over, measuring with the ruler in the band of her skirt and starting again.
Gunnar figured that wasn't a completely difficult task. He watched her balance atop the wooden crate. Lack of grace was right, and after some serious wobbling, he had to hold her steady, large hand gripping her calf while she continued marking out the wall with her tape. "Am I gonna have to stand watch the whole time, to make sure you don't snap your damn neck?" he rumbled, his tone full of amusement. "Thought I could leave you to it. But I can't have you toppling into the television."
Andrea "You probably could just leave me to it, if you're quick and look over every few minutes. Though I feel like you just jinxed me." She continued making the lines until she reached the end of the wall with him spotting her. Going across was a lot easier. By the second line down, she got off of the crate and measured horizontally until the wall was gridded in thin blue tape. "Okay. This is done, and it's the most organized I've ever been," she said, stepping back and eyeing the whole thing.
Gunnar "Right. Blame the jinx, and not your feet." Despite the short laugh that followed, he remained at her side and watched her careful handiwork with the tape until the wall was covered with the blue grid. "Seems like enough art on its own," he remarked while shoving his hands into his pockets. "This all the work for tonight, or is there more ye wanna tackle?"
Andrea took her jacket off, stepping back from the wall and draping it on the couch. "This is all I can do for the night. I think I'm gonna come on a weekend to lay down the actual sketch and paint it in one go. At least as much as I can do. I can get a ladder from my dad's store so I can have a steady hand. Now that it's gridded, it'll just take so much quicker, and it'll translate almost exactly. The hard part is done."
Gunnar nodded at that. "Weekend works. Never doing much during the day besides sleeping, anyway. So ye won't be bothered." With the hard part tackled and her work done for the night, Gunnar didn't mind her sticking around. The movie was nearly finished but he'd stopped paying attention long ago. Picking up the empty beer bottle, he gestured towards her. "Want anything?"
Andrea jammed her palm with her fist, taking that as an invitation to stay for a while, which was cool because she'd gotten heated while putting up all the tape. She found herself staring at it. Part of her just wanted to start tonight, but she knew that was ill-advised with nothing but a crate and the graphite she brought. She needed more of everything. Deciding to stop thinking about it, she picked up her sketchbook before walking over and sitting on the couch. "I'm good actually," she said, opening the book.
Gunnar tossed the bottle in the trash, in the kitchen and dropped onto the couch. His gaze settled on Andy, and a brief smile tugged at his lips when he reached out to flick the corner of her sketchbook, recalling her silent but small art struggle earlier. "Seem restless, lass. Wouldn't mind watching you work tonight, if that's what ye wanted. Start on like...outlining or some shit. I dunno. Not much for art terms. But you get the point."
Andrea looked up at him and smiled a little, shrugging her shoulders. "No, it's okay," she said, reaching for one of the pencils out of her case. "I'm just gonna sketch while we watch the credits to what appeared to be Road House. I won't outline until I have all my supplies and a proper stool. I kind of want it to be perfect, so I can wait. Like you said, you're not gonna be doing anything anyway."
Gunnar was satisfied with that, and he propped a boot on the small table in front of the couch while the credits started to roll. "So what you're saying is, I'm gonna be seeing a lot of more of you around here." There was a hint of charm in his words, and the flicker of amusement in grey eyes was brief while he reached for the remote between them. "Don't think I mind that at all."
Andrea smirked as she scribbled, putting the pencil down for a moment to reach over and quickly run her fingers through his hair, her arm entirely outstretched. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're being really sweet." She brought her hand back, continuing to draw and getting a little graphite on her hands. She didn't care, it happened all the time. She just had to be careful not to get it all over the place.
Gunnar was fully prepared to shrug off that 'sweet', but her fingers grazing his scalp stopped his plans. He gave a small hum then, because he appreciated her grazes more than he'd admit, though he was beginning to suspect she knew that. The tiny gesture was quick and playful, and Gunnar found himself leaning over, uncaring about her graphite-covered hands but he did manage a chuckle at the spot she managed to get on her cheek. He wiped at the smudge, rough fingers lingering on smooth skin before he glanced down at her work. "Looks good. Anyone you know, or just a scribble?"
Andrea paused her movements, staring down at the drawing for a few seconds. "I don't know. I mean, I know I don't know this person, but I may have seen someone once and kept them in my brain." She turned to meet his eyes, clearing her throat. "Sketching...painting, it's all a lot like dreams sometimes. You know, how they say the people you see in your dreams aren't necessarily people you know, but they're never people you've never seen. In passing, a body, an image...whatever. We can't make things like that from scratch. Our subconscious is huge." She felt herself about to ramble and shook her head. "Mostly it's just a scribble."
Gunnar didn't know much about art, but he was pretty familiar with dreams of strangers and lingering faces he couldn't quite place but felt familiar all the same. It wasn't something he dwelled upon too heavily, preferring not to muddle through the meaning of them, but he liked her explanation, ramble as it was. "Scribble is the outlet. Way to get it out. Seeing it on paper, maybe it eventually turns into something you might recognize. Or someone..." Gunnar shook his head, as a small but deep laugh slipped out. "Now you've got me thinking way too much into it."
Andrea nodded slowly as he spoke, her smile growing into a laugh at his little complaint. "Sorry about that. But it is interesting, right?" She bit her lip, tossing the pencil aside and closing the sketchbook. "Thinking is okay sometimes."
Gunnar "Thinking's alright," he agreed with a shrug. "Think I just like hearing you think out loud about it." His honesty was pure impulse, and his hands were deliberate in their touch when he reached for her, arm curling around her middle while tugging her close. The sketchbook was set aside in favor of more thought-free action, this time brushing his lips to hers in a teasing press that only stoked the restless heat under his skin. "You're good at chatter that means shit, " he told her. "Deep stuff. Like you work it out your thoughts...not really for anyone, but if they happen to hear, then it's alright. Proper fucking weird, with your dreams and ramble. But I like that."
Andrea searched his eyes for a moment. "Really?" She didn't expect and answer, didn't want one, really. It was just an automatic response. But her face was warm, hearing him say that about something she felt always held her back. "I guess once I start thinking out loud I forget people are around. And then I'm reminded...and I try to reel it in. Maybe I won't do that here." The teasing would make her restless, and the statement of 'I like that,' gave her the sudden urge to be close. She reached out to touch his face, gripping his chin so she could kiss him again. "That's like the only time I've actually liked being called that."
Gunnar felt her blush, the way her warmed her all over and he let her kiss him properly, grunting a bit at the brief tug to his chin. Large hands slid under the hem of her skirt, gripping her thighs and lifting her gently, easily into his lap and pressed himself closer to her heat. "No reeling it in. Never here." The words were a gruff command as his hand slipped a little lower, calloused thumb tracing idle circles into the silky skin of her inner thigh while he parted her lips with a hard kiss, because Gunnar enjoyed the slight tremble in slender fingers when he surprised her with his strength.
Andrea could hear his words, but continued to tell herself that she would have to reel it in somehow, at some point. "I don't want to..." Her whispers completely contradicted her thoughts, and she wasn't sure why that was. But his hands on her bare skin (she was beginning to think she wore the skirt on purpose subconsciously) had her feeling a few new things, the main one being that she wanted more of this -- as much as she could have or would allow herself to. She moaned softly, the sound muffled by his mouth. When she pulled back for air, chasing the kiss with reddened lips, she tucked fallen hair behind her ear. "I don't...think I ever got a real tour of your place. Might help with the inspiration," she said quietly, her voice coming out a little cracked.
Gunnar chased that moan, deepening their kiss with a low groan until she abruptly pulled away. It took a minute for the words to register, far too focused on the movement of swollen lips but eventually the suggestion sank in and Gunnar was admittedly surprised, though his face remained unchanging. The break in her tone told him just enough, that she'd never attempted something like this before, and moments like these only emphasized just how human and innocent she really was, with tousled hair and glasses all askew. There wasn't much of his place she hadn't already seen, considering she'd been there before, back when he was half out of his mind and blood-soaked but he didn't bring that up. Instead, he held her close and scooted to the edge of the couch to stand. His grip never faltered, his hands sliding to cup her bottom and he waited until her legs were wrapped around him before he headed down the hall and into his bedroom. Neat as a pin, with plain but clean sheets that he gently deposited her atop of. "Sure ye know this room," he remarked, one knee pressed into the mattress while he hovered above her. It was all he said before cupping her cheek and pulling her into another kiss, leaning forward until her back was against the bed and he was between her legs.
Andrea followed his movements until she was looking up at him, wide eyed and attempting to downplay her arousal. His bed was soft, and like she previously noted, so was he despite muscles and calloused hands and hard kisses. His nose bumped her glasses, and for a brief moment it made her laugh a little before quickly removing them and blindly setting them on a surface nearby. She wanted to touch so badly, comb through his hair, his beard, trail his neck, but her hands shook as she thought of allowing herself anything else. She'd just never done it, or given in to her desire to. He touched her skin, gripped it, but she couldn't do the same right away as what little thoughts that slipped by got a little louder. So she kissed him back, letting her hands hover and surprising herself by gently biting his lower lip.
Gunnar could sense her nervousness, even before the slightly comical bump with her glasses. It was subtle, from the slight tension in her limbs, her brain halting her body's natural instinct to move against him. Though he did enjoy the biting, encouraging it with a low growl and small roll of his hips. Pushing up to his knees, Gunnar gently removed her boots, tossing them aside and waiting a beat before tugging off his shirt. The valknut pendant thumped softly against his chest, brushing the long scar above his heart and he regarded her quietly as his hands skimmed her thighs, fingers making a slow descent to her center, only to trail back up, just as slowly, chasing the earlier tremble. He leaned in just enough to kick off his own boots and to press his lips to hers, keeping his full weight off her while his fingers continued to stoke her inner thigh. "No reeling in, Andy..." Taking her hand, he guided the smaller fingers across his skin, letting them trail down his stomach, to settle at the top of his jeans. He'd let her decide their next destination, giving her the push she needed to get her out of her head and into the moment.
Andrea felt the ache from last time return as she felt his fingers. It was a little unreal, but his reminder, along with feeling his torso under her finger tips were enough to pull her fully into the moment. She still wasn't going to do anything she wasn't ready for, but whatever this was, she couldn't feel herself stopping yet. She halted her thoughts again, going on pure want, her hands working slowly as they lingered around his waistband. Pushing herself up, her lips captured his again in a heated kiss as she unbuttoned them, keeping his underwear in place but pushing the denim down. It shouldn't have been new, seeing him this bare, but it was. The context had her head in a completely different place. She did what she wanted to, feeling him out, dragging her fingers down his spine and around his hips.
Gunnar cradled her face in his palms, grunting at the deep jolt her fingers caused pushing at his jeans. He might have nipped her a little too hard but he sucked at her bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue while he quelled the urge to surge forward. There was no reason to contemplate anything but the taste of her, sweet innocence with a heady streak of boldness that he enjoyed. Still, he couldn't resist surprising her just a little, his hands slipping to skim her sides, resting at the hem of her shirt and he pulled away from her eager mouth, his kisses melting to gentler pecks when his fingers pushed under her shirt. Silver eyes watched her intently, waiting for the hitch of breath that would tell him she reached her stopping point but even as he brushed the swell of her breasts. "No thinking." He pressed the reminder to her lips while his fingers continued to tease with light strokes. "Tell me what you want."
Andrea shivered, relaxing against the bed and continuing to run her digits along the ridges of his stomach. Soon her arms were wrapped around him, playing with the edges of his hair. What began as light twirling around her fingers turned into tugging the more he touched her and the more she felt it between her legs. His hands under her shirt made her nervous, but not for the reason she expected. She swallowed as his hands traveled. "Gunnar...there's...it's not all normal, under there." Her words were whispered and her eyes only met his between gazes at his lips. "It's kind of like that," she said, bringing a hand down to lightly stroke the scar on his chest. "Just want you to know it's there...because I um, I want you to keep touching me."
Gunnar wasn't sure what she meant at first but his strokes stilled when her fingers met the unsightly scar on his chest. Ragged as it was, the result of a desperate act he still couldn't speak of but was forced to relive bits and pieces each time he looked into the mirror. Large and pale, it never healed quite right, but he wasn't ashamed of it. Not entirely. Still, Andrea's hesitancy made him curious, wondering what could pause their interaction. He found himself kissing her--softly, wordlessly--while his hands moved to tug off the fitted shirt, leaving her bare in the slightly chilly room. Gently--because Gunnar liked touching her gently--he skimmed her body, lips brushing her collarbone, dipping lower to explore the curve of her breast, nose nudging a stiffened peak with a deep hum. She was soft and warm, and he could sense the nervousness rolling off her in waves. Sitting back on his knees, Gunnar pulled her against him, bare breasts pressed against his naked chest, desire churning thick and sluggish in the pit of his stomach, stirring the restless energy surging through him but despite the building heat, he took his time, fingers combing through thick brunette locks until he felt what made her nervous. He didn't have to see the scars, but he could feel them and he wondered what marred her in such a fashion. This wasn't the time to ask; he had no intention of knocking her out of the moment with overthinking. So he did as she demanded, in her shaky and hesitant voice. A single finger traced the line of the scar he couldn't see, running slowly down the base of her spine and traveling back up, circling the nape of neck, just as he kissed her delicate throat. With his jeans around his thighs, he was pressed at hercenter, feeling the faint throb of her through the thin cotton of her panties. Still, he kept his touch lightly, following the jagged path of Andrea’s scar and sucking at the curve of her neck, enough to leave a mark that he nibbled at with another deep growl.
Andrea placed her shaky hands on the side of his face when he kissed her, caressing hairs with her thumb and feeling more sure for a moment before he pulled at her shirt, lifting it off and tossing it aside. She got goosebumps, practically feeling the follicles on her skin shift as he examined her with his touch. She almost wouldn't breathe, somehow afraid and excited at the same time. He would be the first since Johnny to know it, and ever since that night she avoided it; she pretended it didn't exist, bypassing mirrors and carefully dressing. She would feel better if she forgot and went around it. When he pulled her against him, her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. They were so close, and a brief silver flash in his eyes had her staring, lips brushing his as she held her breath again while his fingers roved. When he found the marks, convex and left jagged by a shoddy patch job of black magic, she finally let out a breath. He was touching them, and he kept touching them, his expression unchanging. She should have expected that, but it hit her as soon as his lips met her neck, small fingers journeying to his disheveled hair and curling against his scalp. And the scars didn't feel ugly. They were just a part, like the neck he kissed and the thighs he stroked. It almost made her emotional, grateful to be pulled out of it a little by the sound he made against her skin. Between the press of him and the pressure of his teeth, she felt the muscles between her thighs clench, pressed against the damp fabric of her panties. Surprising herself and assuming it to be a reflex, her hips rocked against his bulge, giving her a satisfying jolt followed by a breathy moan.
Gunnar's hands caught her hips, sliding down to lightly grip, chasing that friction with measured thrusts. His eyes shut briefly, savoring the feel of her fingers tangled in his hair and the damp heat he smelled through her panties. Want was heavy in his kisses, the way his mouth captured hers, the glide unhurried but hungry, a swift change from the earlier tender touches. Gunnar worked to restrain himself, though energy burned beneath his skin, fevered and restless, building with those quiet sounds he stole from her lips. With a gruff moan, he pitched forward, trapping her under his large frame while he pushed his jeans further down and kicking them off. Thick fingers pushed at her skirt, bunching it around her waist, his hips working a slow rhythm, grinding against where she was warm and wet for him. Gunnar was sure to take his time, the ridge of his cock brushing her center and his hands gripped hers, untangling them from his hair to pin them above her head. His grip was tight on her wrist and he matched it with a firm hold on her thigh while he continued to tease her, nipping at her lips and giving her no more than the steady rock.
Andrea clenched her fists where they were pinned, her heart rate jumping as she felt the building tension in her middle. She was still so new to all the clenching and shivering and pulsing she felt in multiple areas of her body. His grip on her wrists only made it worse, and her thighs shook a little from the building sensation. She wanted to fight that off, not ready to stop feeling what she did in that moment. It was like a sweet pain, feeling as though she were at the edge of something and not wanting to topple over, despite craving it so deeply. As if he could read her mind, his movements became slower. She groaned, fidgeting a little under his hold before deepening their kiss, tugging at his lips to communicate. The pulsing subsided only to build up again, and those moans she couldn't stop were back when she head breath for them. She'd never been so conflicted, wanting the slow burn but also what she knew was coming. The "oh my God," felt like someone else had said it, along with the sigh of his name. She would think about this later, wondering how she sounded and whether or not she could have controlled it, but she was in a haze, unable to think even if she wanted to.
Gunnar tasted the whisper of his name with a deep groan, his hips giving a hard, jerking thrust as he struggled to keep himself in check. He was careful not to let his grip tighten too much, wanting to tease but not to bruise her delicate skin. Grey eyes flashed a warm silver and he breathed heavily, more of out a need to focus his strength and keep it under control. It was a difficult task with her writhing; silky skin, wet warmth pooling between trembling thighs, and he wondered about her taste. Needing something to sate his curiosity and perhaps to push her over the edge she hovered above, Gunnar lifted his hips, his free hand trailing down to rest at her center. It would be far better to distract himself using her pleasure; he brushed the front of her panties, teasing her through the thin fabric as his gaze met hers, wanting to see her reaction. Pushing a little further, he pushed past the waistband, a low grunt slipping out at the feel of her, warm and practically melting into his touch. Calloused fingers swirled around her button, his strokes steady and gentle, knowing she'd probably be overwhelmed at first, so he kept it light and pressed a few kisses to her cheek, encouraging her to chase down the feeling he knew she was so close to.
Andrea gasped as soon as his hand neared her core, unprepared for how acute the feeling of fingers pressed against her would feel. She'd only done it herself once, but it was so different feeling large, confident, determined fingers stroking there. She felt herself drip, wetter the more he touched and it was driving her insane. At least it felt that way. If her hands were free, they'd be clawing, covering her eyes or her mouth or gripping onto something but all she could do was clench her fists tighter and flex her fingers as she groaned and sighed. Her back arched, trembling thighs spreading wider under him until she felt her muscles tighten and release all over, like a faucet turning on at full force. It wasn't like what she felt before; it felt like more. Her hands stopped moving in his grip and her knees bent, toes curling as she caught her breath. For a moment, it was like she couldn't make sound, only attempt to until her moans came out quietly. She bit her lip, staring at the ceiling, not wanting to move right away. Or talk.
Gunnar rode the graceful arch of her body, his hips rocking into her thigh and he pushed out a rough groan at the friction. Despite the rush of dark heat surging beneath his skin, his gaze remained on Andy. His touch never faltered, not even through her moans as she came undone. Her body buzzed beneath him, trembling thighs and breathy sounds that he took from her with soft kisses. Even in the haze of her pleasure, he still wanted, stroking her folds, soaked and making a mess of his hand while his lips traveled along the curve of her neck, nipped at her collarbone until he could nibble at her breast, sucking a small, reddish mark near the tight bud. Eventually he loosened his hold on her wrist, and slipped his hand from her panties, making a show of tasting her, licking the cream from his fingers with a rumbling moan. The quiet didn't bother him but he wasn't going to give her a chance to settle into thinking again, so he kissed her, parting her lips with another deep sound and shared the sweetness he'd sucked from her, moments before.
Andrea's chest rose slowly as she watched him lick his fingers, a little dazed from the image. Her mouth hung open a little, only to be covered by his as well as the taste of something new -- salty, warm and a tiny bit sweet. She liked it, running her tongue along his lips and letting it explore. She was still feeling a little limp, but she let her freed hands roam over his hot skin. Moans were replaced by contented hums and her legs rose to wrap around his waist, her release leaving her with the need to be pressed against him.
Gunnar gripped the sheets, fingers curled tightly as he fought the urge to rut against her. He could feel her, still warm and wet, the glimpsing taste of her not helping his cause to keep himself in check and he figured the best bet was to pull away before he could no longer resist the impulse. With a final press to her lips, he pulled away, large frame shifting easily from the bed to find the jeans he'd kicked off, needing the denim barrier for when he returned to her. The jeans sat low on his hips and he sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers edging between her legs again, to settle atop her mound. She was a pretty sight, dark hair fanning out against the pillow, bare chest and flushed skin, and still in her little skirt. A small chuckle slipped out and he offered her a brief smile before speaking. "Fancy some tea?"
Andrea bit her lip, following his every movement with her eyes and sighing when he reached for her. It was her turn to stare at him for a few moments before responding, laughing and resting a hand on her middle. She was exposed, and ordinarily that would have bothered her, but his bed was soft and she was comfortable like that. She reached out, walking her fingers along his arm. "What kind of tea?"
Gunnar: "Few kinds," he told her, gaze shifting briefly to her fingers as his own twitched against her skin. "Black tea. Might be some earl grey. Found this cannabis kind from some weird head shop in Denver. Must be witch or demon made. Some kind of beastie. It's proper fucking strong. But really good. Two sugars and a good high."
Andrea smirked, sitting up after a few more moments of laying there. "Seems appropriate," she replied. She didn't want to get up, but it was starting to get cold again and that made her feel the slightest bit self-conscious. She scooted back, swinging her legs off the bed and walking to where her shirt had been discarded. Grabbing it, she quickly pulled it over her head, running her fingers through her hair. She turned back around to face him, making her way to where he sat until her legs hit his knees. "I can only see you when you're this close," she admitted, pointing out her lack of glasses.
Gunnar followed her movements as she slipped from the bed and dressed. He had to laugh when she was close again, wild hair and glasses-free and Gunnar wrapped his arms around her middle, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "So ye wanna keep me close then?" His forehead rested against her stomach, and he had to take a moment to breathe deeply because her panties were damp and even without the heightened senses he knew he'd still smell her arousal, the scent hanging thick and sweet in the air. His hands shifted lower, settling on her hips, though he was sorely tempted to slip them under her skirt. Tea was a safer bet. Getting high would surely distract him.
