She stands, immobile, as he closes his eyes and moves in towards her. There is no hesitation as his lips meet hers, crashing excitedly into her teeth. Her eyes are open, and soon, so is her mouth. As he exploringly intertwines his tongue with hers, his hands move from resting on the couch to her hips. They pull her torso closer to his, not necessarily in a more comfortable position, but so that he can feel her warmth exciting him.
She moves her hands to his chest so that her position will be less awkward, and makes the observation that his muscles tensed nicely as he concentrated on his tongue. He traces his way downwards and feels for the bottom of her shirt. Sliding the fabric upwards, his fingers land like a blind man on her hot back, her taut belly, the soft, untouched skin. She shivers as the cold fingers flit over her, wandering, and meeting at the base of her spine. From there, they begin to slide even more upwards, scrunching the fabric with them.
She knows what to do, and takes her hands from their position on his chest to slowly unbutton his shirt. She fumbles at them for a while, distracted by his lips, which are now on a downwards path from her mouth to her neck. Involuntary murmurs escape her lips as his hot lips suckle her pulse, then move down to her collar bone. She finally removes his shirt, finding another under it. Undaunted, she slides her fingers under it, relishing the feel of his abdomen, and even higher, his chest.
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