Ok so I know it’s late I should be asleep but I’m so fucking touch starved. Like I’m so excited to go back to Florida and get a hug from my mom. When I’m not in Florida I never want to go back but rn I just really wanna sleep in my own bed and hug my mom. But for now can a hug from you guys do?
This was new territory for her. And yet, the trepidation she’d felt before the shift in their relationship had quickly waned in the weeks that followed. There was, of course, still a bit of nervousness settled in the pit of her stomach, even in the face of much simpler things than this- physical distance was practiced. A lesson she’d learned quickly and had, for years, followed with strict guidance outside of (perceived) necessity.
That didn’t mean she didn’t want the contact, though. It had just... been taking her some time to adjust. Lucky for her, Remy was patient.
However, she was not.
It had been only a matter of time before they’d ended up here, and already she could feel her heart racing, pounding a quick rhythm inside her chest. There was care taken in each motion, at least on her part, to keep her skin from touching his. Lips and fingers against fabric, as intimate as they could get. Yet she could feel the heat of it, of him, sinking into her.
She had thought- had convinced herself- that these things were not allowed to her. Leave it to Remy to find ways to get creative with it, though. To assure her there were plenty of ways to have sex without the need for skin contact.
In fact, she had a feeling she just might be getting a lesson in that tonight- and she was more than ready for it.
The words, though not surprising, exactly, sent a thrill through her. Nervous energy? Or simply excitement? A bit of each was most likely. Though it made her wonder just how obvious her own arousal was to him- if he could feel it in the way her breath ghosted against his jaw, resisting the urge to press her lips against tender flesh. Or if he could feel the fever in the way her gloved fingers trailed over his abs, having worked their way beneath his shirt. She wasn’t playing coy, after all. It felt pointless to pretend she wasn’t getting worked up. Hell, if it weren’t for the sake of having to take precautions because of her powers, she’d have had him stripped out of his clothes 15 minutes ago.
So, eager to press forward, she didn’t give an answer to his question just yet. Instead, she took it as an invitation.
And here was where her patience more quickly began to cave.
It was easy enough to get him on his back, her knees pressed to the mattress on either side of his hips. With her eyes locked on his, she let a hand trail a slow path from the center of his chest down, until her fingers found their way to the small space still between her and him. The bottom hem of her dress kept her hand hidden from view, but there’d be no question of what she was doing in just a moment- after all, he’d practically offered, right?
Her lips parted in a soft exhale when she finally touched him, let herself feel just how hard he was against the palm of her hand. There may have been a few layers of fabric between them still, but even just this much had her feeling a bit light headed with lust, inhibitions cast aside, “Ya wan’ me that bad?” She asked, the beginnings of a smirk at the corner of her lips as her fingers ventured beneath the waistband of his pants, desperate for closer contact.
Her voice was quieter but vaguely more demanding when she spoke again, and even still her eyes stayed fixed on his, “Tell me wha’cha wan’ me t’do, Remy.” Both because she wanted to hear him say it... and, admittedly, for a bit of guidance.
