inbox.

[sophielicious]

SOPHIE CUCKOO INBOX

un. fiveinone -> justsophie | voice, text, action

dwbi

CODING

Comments

[sophielicious]

(Isn't that the beauty of it? He doesn't really have to understand some shit; it's preferable, in several cases, that he doesn't. In this particular case, Sophie doesn't mind if he does find out why she is so static. On another not-normal day, it had been a lot of figuring out what Quentin is into himself, without psychic interference. Sophie herself had never had that particular issue; she's fully mastered the separation of it all — that moment when an Emma Frost clone is your fuckbuddy, etc.

It's not like she doesn't like sharing; it's actually her nature to do it. From microexpressions all the way to more complex telepathic work, she's used to having it synced to mindblowing, perfect unison. This, however? Them? Oral? It's such a rare, unique thing that she wants to feel for herself, see for herself, enjoy it from her own viewpoint. Wanting because she wants him, wants to see him, hear him, enjoy him, and he can show her the same.

... Which she already justified as 'experimental kinky shit, we're so kinky you guys, who cares, we're super young so this is just figuring out shit, mind your business, both of us', so she can enjoy her affection for him in peace and hide it well under that bullshit explanation, which neither would fall for, but eh. With them, just having one they can throw around is good enough, it doesn't have to be plausible, it just has to exist.

With skin exposed, she gets to feel that, too. She's a lot more handsy than he is, meaning her hands travel through his chest and till they fall on his hips before she can give him a grind of approval for the volume beneath her. Until she hears the comments, and she giggles for a moment. She'd gently hit him for making her do so, but at this point? She's used to it, and she doesn't mind it.)

'Weird' bad or 'weird' different?

(Haha, she doesn't know, she's gonna have to ask. That's what's weird.

She gives him a last kiss as a peck to the lips before she does as she promises, attacking the pathway her fingers told him she would, and hoping those would do their job of making him twitch under her.)

And I'm fully aware, I thought I made sure you knew, too?

(She could be freakier, probably, but that doesn't take away her freak award.)

[querulus]

Oh, I knew. Just reiterating for the class is all.

[His chest has always been sensitive, and her hands and lips there do indeed make him twitch. Gasp, too, since he figures he should probably try being a little less reticent this time around.

... Unless maybe it's hotter to make her work for it. Hm. Food for thought.]

I said weird and freaky. Didn't say it wasn't workin' for me.

[And just to prove it, he grabs one of her hands and moves it to his crotch. Sure, she'll see for herself soon enough, up close and personal and without his pajama pants in the way, but a little (invited) groping never killed anybody. Besides, they're playing show and tell today apparently. Oh, and speaking of.]

You want pants off now? [You know, since she'll have to move off his lap soon.] Or do you want the honors?

[sophielicious]

You know that makes you freaky and weird, too, right? Just making sure the class is all on the same page.

(The spot that makes him gasp and gets him to twitch? Oh, that's getting special attention from her, the slightest teeth and gentle suction that hopefully will give him a little anticipation of what she is going to do in a bit. It'd be a nice place for a hickey, but what is she, a teen? Nope.

Oh, the smile that she gives. It's not like she can't sense it against her, but it gives her a chance to preview by massaging it over fabric, her hand attentive to how the volume feels against her skin. Whether he wants her bra off or not, it's up to him, she doesn't mind either way, but she moves her massive length of hair over her shoulder just in case.)

I'll get to it myself.

[querulus]

Are you seriously calling me freaky and weird like it's new information?

[He huffs a laugh, but it comes out more stilted and breathless than usual because of everything she's doing with her mouth and her hand eagerly feeling him up through his pants.]

Quentin Quire, nice to meet you.

[He considers briefly and decides on bra off. It's less... Cuckoo that way. Which still on occasion matters. But since he's a cheater, he unclips it with TK so he can put his hands on her shoulders and gently nudge her downward. He's plenty ready for the "main event" but... eh, fine, he'll throw her a bone first. He's not so interested (this time) in the hickey she was considering, but he can offer an alternative.]

Bite me. [He indicates a spot near his hip with one hand.] Right here.

[sophielicious]

(If her hands weren't busy, she'd even offer one for shaking, but what she's actually holding happens to be more interesting. Instead, Sophie herself lets a chuckle escape against his skin, kissing where the laugh hit before she distances a little so her bra can slide off her arms.)

Quentin 'Cheater' Quire, yes, it's a pleasure.

(Not that it isn't impressive — she'd definitely not be able to do that herself with her unskilled TK, but shut up.

The request is pleasantly surprising as she would love to bite him more often, and there's a large chance that actually doing it where he indicated might leave a mark. Unless Aurora decides to throw a whole other waterpark in the cold that is becoming, it's a safe choice — she's into it. It does mean that she finally hears the nudging that he gives, leaving his lap with a lingering kiss to his lips before she grabs one of her cushions to protect her knees.

Lips attach to the spot as she gets between his legs, a hand on his thigh while the other traces the shape of his hip. She actually really likes it on him, probably never has the chance to appreciate it aside from looking. A kiss first, lipful, a gentle suck, and well, the bite she gives isn't weak, but it isn't too strong either. Just enough, she assumes, knowing how he would feel it.

Would.)

[querulus]

[Bold of her to assume he cares about her leaving a mark on him right at this moment. Also bold to think he'd be shirtless at a water park. He sure as hell didn't tell her to bite him because proprietary is on his mind. Nope, he did that because it feels really fucking good, as evidenced by the strangled "fuck" that escapes him and the reflexive buck of his hips.

Despite the reaction, though, he doesn't indicate that she should do it again. There's a reason, one that starts with the letter P, but even without her in his head he's avoiding all of that, especially with what she's about to do. Instead he just makes a mental note that she's as into a little biting as he is—you know, for later—and adjusts his legs so she has plenty of room between them.]

I would say "the pleasure's all mine", but that's a little too ironic, even for me.

[No comment about the fact that he said it anyway. Anyway, he's going to camp out in her brain now, still blocking everything from her except his presence. She might not want to feel what he's feeling, but he still wants her to know he's watching her, both physically and psychically.]

[sophielicious]

(What the actual fuck — his reaction sends a jolt of electricity down her spine, curiosity and arousal sparked as she makes a mental note herself. She nibbles, doesn't bite, mostly because she doesn't want him to hurt more than he has to the next day (scratches aside, when they do happen). She leaves him sore enough, she shows some mercy there, but it's interesting and she hopes it doesn't awaken anything in her. Although, it kinda might have, to be seen. Regardless, what she does know is that she likes his reaction, her hand gripping on his thigh because fuck, she got some interest in hearing more.

... And then he speaks, which makes her give that ugly, honest snort and hit him on the thigh to shut the fuck up. She's not really complaining, because this is one of the reasons why she, ugh, gross, is into him or whatever, but dude. Dude!!!)

Quentin, shut the fuck up, I can't focus if you keep making me laugh!

(Breathe in, breathe out, okay, she's okay, and she's going to recenter by removing his pants out of the way.

For all the excitement that she is feeling, it's definitely a given that she has never done this flying solo business before. There's a learning curve, and some of that is pulling in the memories from their last time, but most of them are paying attention. She now knows he feels every move, every breath, the very vibration of her voice against him. Meaning: she knows exactly what to do, with or without the camping.

She can feel his little nerdy psychic fingers in her brain, and he wants to hear her? More than fine. He gets to feel how she's delighted when he takes all of him into her mouth.)

[querulus]

Christ.

[Sophie can take comfort in the fact that whatever smartass comeback he was going to say is all but erased from his brain when she fucking swallows him. Shit, last time she messed around a little before getting to that. Guess she's going straight for the big guns this time around. And you know what? Good for her. He leans his head back and clenches his eyes shut for a moment to collect himself.

But it's not even her mouth that really, really gets him jazzed. It's her mind more than anything else. Sex involving telepaths is always mutually beneficial in some way. If you're doing it right, at least. That's the beauty of it. Nobody is ever left out, and communication issues are made obsolete. Quentin can't fathom why on god's green earth Sophie would opt out of that, but fuck if it isn't hot as hell to feel how much she wants this, wants him. He groans, those "nerdy psychic fingers" curling more inside her brain on instinct. And then he remembers oh, right, he's not supposed to be communicating shit telepathically, and he puts his hand on her head as a physical indication of the yes, more that he really wants to just shove directly into her mind.

Okay, okay, he's good. He's fine. He looks down to watch her.]

This is—shit—a lot harder than I thought.

[And yes, the look on his face makes it clear he knows exactly what he said.]

[sophielicious]

(Is shutting the fuck up going to be permanent? Doubtful. Quentin doesn't work that way, both unluckily and luckily for her, but for now, it's a victory that she plans to hijack his shelf to add a trophy in. Part of the psychic foreplay, thankfully, that one is as private as it can be, because it is definitely some very dumb shit. Not that her thoughts linger on the victory, because she's actually really enjoying herself looking at him fucking losing it.

And well, he might be the smartest person she knows, but cripes, if he ain't the dumbest. The answer to what he wonders is right in her brain, and he seems to be enjoying it as much as she does. The altruism, yeah, sure, whatever, it's part of it to do something that is inherently for him out of a strong desire for and to satisfy the person that she is with is nice and all, but fuck if it isn't so much more interesting to be shown, willingly, and to feel her own side of things for once. Would this be something she'd do often? Doubtful. It's not like they'll ever add this to their little book of approved sexual acts, but when they inevitably want to visit loopholeland? She'll want this again. She swears she can hear his heart nearly beating out of his chest, or that's just a side effect of him reaching for her mind, and it only makes her add more strength to the suction as she goes up.

Thankfully, her focus had moved from depth to the tip, and she fucking knew he wouldn't manage to shut the fuck up for too long, because of course he can't. Does she manage to hold in her laugh? Not exactly, it's more of a hum, but he gets to enjoy the vibrations of her voice on very sensitive skin.

She can't reach in and drop it to his head, but she can think!! And what she does think is: 'I'm positive this is as hard as it can get.')

[querulus]

[See, she can't expect him to stop saying this shit when her laughing feels like that.]

I thought you liked it hard?

[Alright, that doesn't fully track with the double entendre, but considering the circumstances he thinks he's doing pretty okay. Besides, trolling her is a turn on. For both of them.

A shuttering moan comes out of him, and he presses gently down on her head to suggest what he wants next. If she were to repeat that whole motion with the vibration at the end, he wouldn't complain.

You know what he is going to complain about? Some stupid bullshit that is most definitely going to lead to him getting fucked up in the best way possible. Literally. His breathing is heavy, and yes, his heart is beating wildly, but the challenge he issues her is clear as day.]

You want me to shut up, then shut me up.

1/2

[sophielicious]

(List of things Quentin Quire makes much more of a challenge than he needs to:
a. Everything.
b. Apparently sucking his dick makes that list, which, while deeply entertaining, dude!!! She does not want to choke, thank you, how is she gonna justify her hoarse voice tomorrow? Have mercy.
c. ... She's gonna have to answer that stupid comeback, isn't she? She can't let him have the last word. That's ridiculous.)

[sophielicious]

(The answer is very, very obvious.

'Technically, it is hard because it likes me. Get your facts in order.'

And, well, he can't ever deny her that one, with the evidence echoing in her room, the hardness in her mouth, and her hand. You know, he could help out a little bit. This is a lot of hair, and she knows he's gentle — he's going to get a gift of her taking all her hair into a very messy ponytail held by her free hand, which she taps for him to hold. After all, she knows he's going to need it when she complies, descending fully and letting her tongue slide across him.

Except. Oh, this motherfucker. This is revenge, isn't it? From months ago, how petty (she's going to do the same). She just pulls back a little, just for a second so she can fully look at him like he just signed his death sentence to her.

Because he just did. He handed it to her.

She can't fuck with his mind to enhance anything. Meaning, she has to go as hard as she can and not give him any space to talk or think. That's, uh, dangerous, for planning's sake. But you know what, whatever. That's what she's doing, each descent faster, deeper, her hand helping at the base until after a good while of no foreseeable mercy — she stops to come to his lap again, kiss starved and tongue tasting of him.

Fuck you, Quentin.)

[querulus]

[Okay, fine, she's earned this one. And since he literally invited it, it doesn't count as a loss. Oh, and also there's the fact that his brain is fucking melting because she's looking at him like she's going to ruin him and then she does. Well, for an indeterminate number of seconds at least. Almost certainly a new record. Weird how this time was somehow even more intense than when she had access to his mind, but he will ponder that when he's not getting his goddamn soul sucked out of his body.

He grips her ponytail like a lifeline, using it and some shallow thrusts of his hips to help her get deeper and faster. But hey, he keeps enough control over his faculties to keep synced up with her pace. So you're welcome, Sophie. But as for shutting him up? Well, the string of profanity that comes out of his mouth certainly doesn't qualify as quiet, but it's not quips either. Which is probably the best she's going to get, honestly. It's also goddamn miracle he doesn't finish in her mouth because holy shit??? but somehow he manages.

... And then suddenly she stops.

Well, not stops, not fully, but she's climbing back onto his lap, and he returns her kiss hungrily but fuck he needs to be back inside her, pronto. And no, he doesn't give a shit that she tastes like him. Hell, with how narcissistic he is? It may very well be a plus. His hands find her hips again and hold her, firm and demanding. He pulls away from her mouth, and while he (unfortunately?) finds the ability to speak again, she is still graciously spared the usual Quentin Quire Sass.]

I really wanna fuck you now.

[sophielicious]

(He's gonna have to fight her on that one, it definitely counts as a loss, even if the loss means, well, winning on both sides, but shut up, that's literally unimportant for the purposes of this future meaningless argument both seem to be planning out distantly.

But oh, she's so damn proud. Not only did she manage to get out every single reaction she was craving, including the thrusts she encouraged, the words that he so kindly shared, and the fact that she knew he was close just from... Experience? God, they have been doing this for a long time, and it shows to her more than she expected when she isn't tuned in — how his words sounded with his breathlessness, how his muscles tensed? Unbelievably hot, all from her own perspective.

She almost refuses to let that kiss end, but she also needs to breathe, so she'll allow the intermission as she pushes against the block he has on her telepathy — nothing more than silently telling him she wants his brain back, thank you very much. With the words though, she leaves only to drop her shorts, fully naked before her return both to his lap and to his neck, hands taking his to hold her hips and ass before she can talk, too.)

I really want you.

(Conditions apply*, but it's true, isn't it? That's why she's leaving no moment for doubts or second quips before she positions, and lets him enter her.)

[querulus]

[What the hell, she's gonna fry his brain and then hit him with that line? At least she immediately slides down onto him so he doesn't have to bother with what hearing that may or may not do to him if he lets it. The name of their game is and always has been burying anything complex or dangerous under unbridled horniness, and he knows she doesn't mean what she said in the traditional sense. The way his frazzled senses might misinterpret because of an overload of dopamine and other happy chemicals.

He doesn't lower the block on his mind at first, partly because to get his head straightened out regarding all of the above, but also because well. She's been all about experiencing shit in the solitude of her own mind, right? That means she should at least try out what it feels like when he gets a nice solid grip on her ass and bucks up into her without any input from him to distract her. That's only fair, right? And with her face in his neck, he can breathe raggedly into her ear.]

Show me.

[Show him what? That she wants him, of course. Or how she wants him. Or how much. Or what she wants from him. It's all of those things at once, and probably would be a hell of a lot easier for her to decode if she was in his head, but that's the fun of it, isn't it? He does use his hold on her to nudge her upward and encourage her to move. Just in case she needs the hint.]

[sophielicious]

(The game is correct, as per usual, and it's easy to explain her line in several bogus ways, so she said what she said. Horniness is a given, considering he can feel how insanely hot she feels right now. The first moment where she has all of him inside is always something she needs a moment to appreciate, and he isn't letting her back in, which means, inch by inch, she feels it on her own, the goosebumps and the moan she lets out as a consequence of her clenching around him to feel more.

He doesn't have to be a telepath to know she loves being grabbed and gripped, because it always brings her most unholy noises when he does it, this time not at all different. If anything, it's louder against his skin, her hands moving to hold onto his shoulders as she recenters. Alone. Which obviously, isn't bad, but fuck if it isn't overwhelming.

The words make her leave the comfortable space she had carved out for herself to set her eyes on him for a moment before that beam she got used to delivering to him appears. Words? Always fall flat. Sophie's lied, time and time again. Actions tend to be where she does the most, and he's inviting it, telling her to her face to do it, and encouraging it by the way he's nudging her to move?

It's not exactly what she had in mind, she wanted him to be in control of guiding how she moves, for power balance comfort, and hopefully he can still do that to some extent, but regardless. Her lips attack his, her hips starting a slow pace that is by no means relaxed with how much effort she's putting into ascending so she can once more descend fully, her brain firing in every synapse possible in pleasure. Fuck, this might be a thing for her.)

[querulus]

[You'd think he wouldn't feel as in control with her taking charge of their pace. But see, he put in charge. Gave her a direction that she's following to the letter. Plus there's the tiny fact that oh yeah, she's totally getting off on just his body without any extra input from his mind. In what universe would that not make him feel like king of the goddamn world? So yeah, he's all good on the feeling in control side of things. Not that she can feel any of that from his side, though, so in lieu of that he opts to tighten his grip on her hips, using his hands to make small adjustments to her angle and occasionally hold her down a few extra micro seconds so he can grind up into her. Just enough to make it clear he's not giving up a damn thing here.

But hey, no harm in making extra, extra sure she gets the message, right? Quentin pulls away from her mouth briefly to speak. (Most inconvenient damn part of not using telepathy, honestly. At least it's been pretty damn worth it so far.)]

Make yourself come. Like this, no powers.

[And then he goes back to kissing her every bit as fiercely as she is. It's a mildly insane direction and not something they've ever done before—why would they when they have perfectly good telepathy and don't have to do shit like normies? But apparently when you're freaky enough "normie" can be kinky, so here we are. And based on how much the pleasure centers in her brain are lighting up, he's pretty sure she can manage it.]

[sophielicious]

(Justifying this shit would come way, way later for her. Perhaps that's her biggest flaw — do first, think and comprehend after, but at least she has Quentin right here with her, who probably has spun his own bullshit take on this way earlier than she has. She can just agree with and never think of this again! Wonderful, step one done, step two skipped, step three taken care of, she assumes. He's great, sometimes, kinda, at some very niche things, look at that.

Thankfully, the thought doesn't even form when she's busy feeling this out. It's entirely new, climaxing with someone else without their input, not only with him but with everyone she's been with, she's telepathy-heavy — Emma taught them about sex and telepathy hand-in-hand, thorough lessons on how to use the latter with and for the former, so the two are inherently intertwined to her. It allows for wonderful things, tricks, and creativity wired for prime use, and her knowing exactly where she stands in terms of her own preferences — empathy is not Frost's biggest asset, which comes in handy for that separation.

Now, knowing is just that. Knowing. Now, she's feeling, and that's, holy shit, incredibly kinky to her, making it impossible to kiss him without her moans meeting his tongue. If he's still tuning in, he'll get to hear her figuring out which angle feels best, how excited she is about how his climax is going to feel, how she damn likes it when he's fully in. And then he grinds up a little, which she finds hits it just right that she almost doesn't catch what he says with the sound she makes.

Fuck, she has to tell him, but it's so damn hard with how much she wants to keep kissing him, so she breaks the kiss to speak, only managing a few words at a time before she kisses him again.)

Fuck, okay, but — fuck, I need you to do that again. Grab me — again.

(Her nails are definitely scratching him if he does, but her pace is picking, and one of her hands travels to between her legs to give extra stimulation, also not something she does ever with him, considering how insane he makes her feel.)

[querulus]

[Oh, you bet your ass he's still tuning in. He never said no powers for him, after all. Quentin's watching Sophie crumble to pieces in front of him with laserlike focus, and he doesn't plan on stopping any time soon. She's learning to feel, really feel, for the first time in near-isolation, and observing her losing her goddamn mind about it is so insanely arousing. It's honestly driving him a little crazy, especially when she won't stop thinking about what his climax is going to feel like because holy shit??? But he tries to focus on the other stuff: finding what sends sparks down her spine, what makes her moan, what makes her get closer to the edge he told her to push herself towards.

He makes a similarly wrecked noise when he finds that just right spot, and yeah, he understands exactly why she's asking for that again. Benefit of being the one here with both sides of this sensory equation? Much easier to figure out what works and what doesn't.]

Yeah, working—[Christ, it's hard to talk when she's kissing him like she needs it to breathe, but he's managing. Somehow.] Working on it.

[She's been moving up and coming back down slowly to feel him fill her, and don't get him wrong, that is hot as fuck, but it's time to mix it up a little. For the first time since they started all this, she doesn't know what he's thinking, and his lust-addled-yet-intensely-focused mind is seeing opportunities in that. So the next time she raises up, he pulls her down sharply. The time after that, he meets her in the middle by thrusting up into her. Then a slower, more purposeful descent that ends with him pressing her to his lap for several seconds, as deep as he can possibly be in this position without making things potentially uncomfortable for the hand between her legs, and rolling his hips shallowly as if trying to achieve the impossible task of making her feel him more than she already does. And while he normally would just... well, cheat and telepathically make everything he does the "perfect" thing, today he's experimenting. What makes her jump out of her skin when he's not putting his finger on the scale? Does the unpredictability enhance or detract from her how desperately horny she is? And most importantly, does Quentin have the patience to stick to his guns on this, or will he give up and psychically overload her brain with pleasure like he normally would?]

[sophielicious]

(That's the number one thought on her mind, honestly. She wants to come for him, that's a given, and it doesn't seem like it will be a problem — but when they come, 99.9% of the time, it's together, tied and meshed and blurred in a loop of pleasure. She doesn't get to truly appreciate how it physically is like to feel him, which she already happens to be into inane amounts. Oftentimes, she doesn't even manage to come down for several minutes, and she misses these things she is craving to see much more now that she can. Not that this was any part of her 'making him', they are just the thoughts that happen to float into her mind as her nails finally dig into the skin of his shoulder for some grounding while her mind tries to put that idea together with what she has in her database. Fuck, she can't wait to see it.

If he wondered what is working so exceptionally for her, well. That should have been partly answered, and the rest of it comes clear with the lusty whine that comes out of her with how he moves, the mix of length with the added depth that he provides? Perhaps she's a little selfish in this regard, wanting all of him in her whenever their hips meet, and she's realizing that now that she is moving to meet him where he is in shallow bounces, which makes each time he's in find the spot, and with her hand keeping them steady? The unpredictability makes her notice, and it feeds her curiosity and desire like an urge.

Usually, she'd not say anything. No need, he knows, she knows. But they're talking, which, well, is insane, but also? She has something very important to say, hence why she has to leave his mouth, hiding again on his shoulder and chest to press kisses as breathing breaks to what she is about to say.)

I— Are you close? I need — I think I want to come with you — and I'm really close.

[querulus]

[There. That's it. The so good, perfect, stars-behind-the-eyes spot, and between the two of them they've found a way to move together that makes him hit it over and over again. Which, fuck, not only feels great on her end, but his end is fucking incredible too, with her clenching around him every time that spark of pleasure hits her spine. So he keeps meeting her shallow thrusts with his own, and every so often moves her up so he's almost out of her and then pulls her back down to fill her completely again with a loud groan. The unpredictability keeps things fresh, keeps her guessing and—ideally—hungry for more.

He realizes she's talking belatedly when he notices her mouth is no longer on his, and he has to shake out of the hyperfocus to process what she's saying.

Oh. Right. She doesn't know how close he is. He's so used to her being in his head he forgot to—fuck, does she not realize he's been hanging on by a thread here this whole time? Well, of course not. Why would she? Duh. He huffs out a breathless chuckle against her hair.]

Been... waiting on you.

[One of his hands leaves her hip to move hers away from between her legs up his shoulder where she hopefully will dig those nails into him like she's doing to the other side. A loss of that extra stimulation, yes, but he'll replace it in short order, replicating the movement of her fingers with his own. It's a more awkward position and leaves him without the leverage to mix up his rhythm like before, but he expects the payoff will be worth it. He moves his mouth close to her ear so she can feel it whenever has to pause what he's saying to catch his breath.]

Now hurry it up... so I can come inside you, okay?

[sophielicious]

(The surprise makes her static, the whining sound she makes mixed with a loud gasp as she runs her nails across his shoulder down to his arm to hold on from the lightning that just bolted from the back of her neck all the way to her lower back. Managing to have heard his groan in full attention, too? That sped things up by a thousand, she can almost taste her climax, but she's waiting as patiently as humanly possible, even if it's killing her. It might seem like she's alone, but she really hasn't ever been so together with him before on her own terms, so there's simply no way she's not fighting it so they reach it.

And then he laughs. And then he says that. And he takes her hand, that she slides to his chest, and holy fuck, his heart is nearly beating out of it, and he takes over. She doesn't think that the smile she's pressing on his collarbone can get any bigger or brighter, it hurts her cheeks, but she can't help but show him when he tells her the hottest thing he could possibly tell her. He knows she wants this almost desperately, and just hearing that, along with the way her hips speed up, and the extra stimulation? There is absolutely no will in her to fight it anymore, and she finally lets go of the reluctance, the beam moved to his mouth because really, she can't not kiss him stupid right now, until her loud moan forces her to stop.

It feels like a wave. Soft at first, until it pulls her completely, intense ecstasy that instinctively causes her to hold her clenching as much as she can around him, million of fireworks exploding throughout her skin as her muscles contract. Her heart might be beating off her chest, too.

Fuck, she's a little dizzy.)

[querulus]

[He feels the exact moment she gives up, and shit, how long has she been holding out for him without him realizing? Whatever, he'll feel slightly bad about that some other time maybe, because Sophie is about to have some kind of life-altering orgasm it seems, and he has no intention of letting her experience that shit by herself. Or, well, he does. But not like. By herself by herself. Just the kind of "by herself" she's been this whole time.

Whatever, who cares.

He moans with her when she crests that first wave until she starts clenching around him, and then instinct takes over. His hand moves to her upper thigh and grips her greedily, his hips bucking up into her as though he can find a way to bury himself deeper through sheer willpower, and after three thrusts he spills inside her. Can she even feel it like she was so desperate to through the fucking avalanche of pleasure hitting her—and by extension him—right now? No clue, but her body is squeezing him like she'll never let him leave, and right now? Honestly? Fine with him.

And then the pleasure ebbs and the world starts existing again and he... gingerly releases the death grip he had on her hip and thigh. Not that she was complaining but well. You know. Second order of business? Dropping the psychic block. Partly so she can feel him again but mostly so he can drop his head to her shoulder and not have to talk. He's fucking cooked, okay.]

/Fuck. You alive?/

[sophielicious]

(This is unbelievably fulfilling in ways she can't put into words, and luckily, she knows just because she's blocked, it doesn't mean he is. She doesn't have to verbalize how exhilarating it all feels when he is in her head. She's concentrated on him as she rides both Quentin and the pleasure waves that hit her again with how deep the thrusts are going before he lets go. Fuck, she can feel him nearly pulsating inside her, the hand on his chest gripping a little as she feels his heart on her fingertips, the warmth between her legs, and holy shit, this is remarkably intimate, and for fucking once, she's not complaining a single bit.

Fuck it if it doesn't turn her completely to mush. She's struggling to breathe a little, to recenter, her claws leaving his muscles alone as she feels him releasing her. She's so fair that he might have left a hand-shaped mark on her, and that goes into another box of appreciation for today. God, she's affectionate. Appreciative. So much so that when he drops the block and settles on her shoulder, her hands move to press caresses and scratches on the nape of his neck, encouraging.

She'd usually say 'yeah', but since today's theme is opposite day, she's pressing a kiss to his temple, and she's going to be real for a second here.)

/Alive? Strong word. Absolutely not. Good? Yeah. I'm great. You're alive?/

[querulus]

[Fuck, he actually startles a little when she touches the back of his neck. Not even because it surprised him. His skin is just so damn sensitive it feels like he's on fucking fire for a couple seconds. But after the initial jolt, he relaxes into it, and since she has access to his mind again, she'll be able to feel him adjust to the pleasantly lingering tingles.]

/More alive than you. Not that it's a competition./

[Except it so totally is, and he's winning. In a lot of ways, actually. Because with the block dropped she'll also be able to feel for the first time today how good it feels to be inside her still, enough that any thoughts she might have about getting off his lap are met by a single concept from his: stay. For how long? Dunno. Until he slips out or they decide to move elsewhere or something. Doesn't matter. Right now he just wants to bask in her warmth like a lizard, please and thank you.]

/So... what do you think? New entry for our Top Ten list?/