Lucy found easy repetition in the physicality from nights prior. Though she knew little about this woman, she had at the very least figured out how to shut her up. Or aggravate her. Or perhaps both were expertly interlocked into one.
And if she slapped her again, it would serve as a decent way out. Hell, she might even try to kick Lucy out. It mightn't have ever been easy, but the tables turned when she was partially willing to disappear.
Really, the last thing she then expected was to actually feel pressure back. Hands at her shoulders were almost supposed to push her away, not beckon her forward. A minor break and Lucy exhaled the air she was still carrying, but she didn't open her eyes. There was little point in meeting a gaze instead of bracing for impact.
Impact she received against her lips instead. It was the kind of contact Lucy saw no reason to ignore, given she had started it in the first place. So her free hand joined the first, intent to place enough pressure of her own to press her as closely as possible.
Post by Penelope Blaise on Oct 28, 2015 11:34:30 GMT
Feeding into an instinctive reaction was something rare for Penelope. Logic told her to push the thief away, but the heavy beat of her pulse drowned out her thoughts. All except for the one that yelled to keep holding on. Where she was relieved to find her second arm wrap around Penelope's form.
Her hands tracked across Lucy's shoulders, nails grazing under the line of her hair and across her neck. Lightly enough where she had yet to leave a mark, but well enough to make it clear she could with a little more pressure. Because she was already pressing herself firmly against the other's form, leaving little space to breath, let alone move.
However, breathing was a necessity, even if she hadn't felt it was in that moment. Her muscles strained as her body fought the way her shoulders eased backwards. This time, she hadn't opened her eyes either. Instead, she clenched her jaw through short, painful breaths. "Don't leave." She repeated.
The strength of Lucy's own arms were matched in their own way by the unfamiliar track of nails across her skin. To the back of her neck to remind her of proximity; to keep in constant motion the fact that they were so close in such a short amount of time. Pressed thin and there would be no acceptable breach. Not significantly. Not for more than a breath.
This time when she lost the contact that fueled everything, she still didn't open her eyes. Heated breaths tracked across her skin, the edge of her nose brushing against hers with every passing second. There was no need to drag away. Not unless she was forced to.
The repeated request kept her breathless; without traction, because while they weren't new words to the thief who disappeared so easily, this situation was completely unique.
"I won't." She reasoned, shaking her head once. She had hours before she could disappear at a usual, routine time. It wasn't as if Lucy naturally seemed like the best company to keep around, but even she could understand when any company was required.
Post by Penelope Blaise on Oct 28, 2015 21:14:18 GMT
Close contact was something new for the British-born woman; she'd never felt the drive that came with any sort of attraction. Even now, she had yet to understand it. She couldn't recall the last time she wished for any company, let alone for said company to stay. She couldn't say for how long, really that was her ultimate decision. But the words that brushed against her skin was comfort enough. There was a low level trust that came from the stranger.
Again, she found her lips, although this time more lightly. A slow drawn out process, savoring the time she suddenly knew she had before her mind even had the chance to catch up with what was happening. Despite how slowly her hands tracked down under her collar, everything felt it were moving incredibly fast considering she had only met this woman for the first time a handful of days ago.
The thief first stole her attention, then her first kiss, and now her breath. Her stiff legs finally found the means to move, if only to take a small step forward. Whether it was to bring herself even closer in the already nonexistent distance or try to direct them in any particular direction, she wasn't sure.
Lucy wasn't someone well known for allowing anyone else to lead. Circumstances made such a thing different, but for the most part she was very adept at misconception; to give the illusion that an idea belonged to someone else first. A single step in one direction felt genuine, but the desired resolution wasn't clear.
But Lucy was fortunate enough to have a greater understanding of the place they were in. She had just spent hours scoping the entire building out from top to bottom; she knew what a makeshift bed looked like when she saw one.
So confidence fueled a type of charge. She might have followed the potential lead, but her hands had curled into the fabric of the dress she wore, and in part Lucy was pulling her forward to keep the paces moving.
Post by Penelope Blaise on Oct 29, 2015 12:16:29 GMT
Although Penelope had made the first initial step, she was hardly leading. Defined pressure of fabric tightening around her sides brought her strides forward. Her mind might have been racing, but she knew this space well enough, and even with eyes shut she recognized the familiar path taken towards the makeshift bed she had been sleeping on for weeks now.
Was this normal behavior for the thief? Penelope couldn't tell, nor did she have the mind to question the Australian accented woman. Rather, she focused on the slight tremble of her own hands, and how she hoped it wasn't noticed by the second party they tugged at the collar of her shirt, following the line of the fabric until they collided with the first button.
All it took was a precise enough turn of her thumb and forefinger and it was undone as they reached the neatly folded blankets tucked between a set of stacks. With her own pressure, she tried to bring Lucy down against them, herself to follow.
Shaking hands were among the most difficult to trust when things got heated. Yet despite the tremor Lucy couldn't help but notice, the top button of her shirt was freed with little struggle. It was reciprocation and acceptance wrapped in a necessary quiet; she wouldn't have opted to fill the moment with words even if she could consider the most perfect set.
It wasn't until she felt herself being eased downward that the outward need to refuse caught her. Not to stall what felt like an inevitability - at least it did in her mind - but to deter whatever shift might have coincided if she were to hit the surface first. Lucy could be so precise, even in a moment deemed thoughtless. So the next time she caught her lips, clever hands were just as quick to drag her down to the unfamiliar surface first.
Post by Penelope Blaise on Oct 29, 2015 15:44:16 GMT
FtB
Before she had the chance to change her own footing, Penelope felt her back hit the padded blankets. Her hands only tightened on Lucy's form, successfully pulling her down on top of her own form. Although she never managed to pull the rest of the flannel material from her, nails found their way under the fabric, painting reddened lines across the thief's skin with pressure she was unaware of creating.
With every shot of cool air that filled her lungs, it burned away before she could feel the relieving affects. A spinning head and unfamiliar body pressed against her own, she finally opened her eyes, although not to stare up at the high ceiling above her, but in an attempt to steal a glance.
Her lips might have been parted with the need to breathe, yet she couldn't manage to speak.
Strangers in strange places; it wasn't all that new for Lucy, but it had never been like this. Every instance was different, just as every person was. Wrapped up in another person and still she managed to keep her clothes in tact. Had she the effort to fix such a discrepancy, she likely would have tried. But the thought had passed over her head by now; she was already staring through staggered, useless breaths.
Each movement reminded Lucy of the marks across her skin by way of residual pain, hidden beneath her clothes yet still something to remain acutely aware of. So to was the way she tried to speak; how she opened her mouth after her eyes as if she felt the urge to fill the moment with something eloquent. Lucy leaned through the small distance, keeping silence alive by kissing her again.
Post by Penelope Blaise on Oct 29, 2015 22:17:43 GMT
When growingly familiar lips collided with her own once again, Penelope found herself comforted by the silence that came with it. A mutual agreement that silence was better, because although she tried to break it, she was glad she didn't have to. It made reciprocation come easy, and it made forgetting concerns even easier. There was a lot to consider now, but continuous contact pushed it to the back of her mind.
Finally, her nails lifted from her skin, fingertips tracking over the marks she unknowingly created up until she caught the shirt that was constantly getting in her way. One button had been managed, but several remained in tact, and as her hands drew around the thief's form, she had every intention of removing the material entirely.
Steps now we're usually straight forward. Though Lucy more commonly preferred to stay with the people she slept with - at least for something of a grace period - she herself had kissed her first; slow and settled with our a still rush to cloud he judgement. Human contact carried comfort in constantly unpredictable times, but she could leave just as easily as she had tried to. Maybe it was accident. Maybe she was prone to regret. Maybe she even felt like she owed Lucy for help seemingly unwanted.
But a breach in a connection and fingers were working through the second button through its loop. Barely a space to work with and this woman still wore determination. The second she realised what was going on, her fingers reached for the lowest button of her own clothes, hooking around the button itself before forcibly ripping it free instead.
Post by Penelope Blaise on Oct 29, 2015 23:30:17 GMT
She moved with precision, even though the practically nonexistent space between them. It made work harder, yet Penny wasn't willing to allow give up any more distance. Feeling the shift Lucy made, she hadn't registered just what she was doing until her hands collided with the thief's, followed by a clear snap of breaking thread. Penelope didn't allow herself the time to consider where the button flew before she was pushing the shirt off of her shoulders, forcibly removing it with a new sense of haste.
One layer wasn't enough. The feeling of new skin to skin contact only made her crave more. For every mental instinct that told her otherwise, there was a larger, stronger need to learn every curve of the individual on top of herself. Books could tell her of the dangers of the world, but never of something like this.
Next, she found the strap that crossed between her shoulder blades, and with a quick snap of her wrist it was freed.
Shedding a layer hardly felt like enough of an impact given everything that had transpired. To the best of her ability, Lucy had worked her arms through the sleeves of the shirt she once wore, then the straps that quickly followed. Where they ended up was anyone's guess; it didn't matter in the slightest now.
But the lack of synergy was growing almost irksome for some who carried so little patience to wait in the first place. Before her hands could reach for anything else, Lucy dragged herself upwards. Hands followed the lower contours of the dress she wore, enough to coax her up easily enough to draw it over her head completely. But the forced break only drove the thief onwards to steal her lips again.
Post by Penelope Blaise on Oct 30, 2015 1:53:46 GMT
With another article gone, Penny had little interest in stopping, it only made her more annoyed with everything that remained between them. Her hands had secured around the leather belt around Lucy's waist, but before she could work to unbuckle it, the form atop of her was suddenly gone, although not far. Once her dress shifted, she was quick to comply with the request being made as she eased forward, although not without a half-second glance downward before her vision was impaired by the fabric dragging up over her head.
And before she could get a second look in, her lips were captured again, although hardly against her will. With her form flush against her own, Penelope could feel the way her already heavy heartbeat began to skyrocket.
Again, she reached for her belt, and this time when she caught it Penny quickly insured she wouldn't lose time when she unbuckled it and popped the button hidden beneath it.
With force on her side, Lucy was grateful she was met with no resistance. Hands might have had a hold on her clothes again at one point, but thwarting the contact for the woman who was still a relative stranger was more imperative than letting her take any kind of leadership. A freer belt and the loss of a clasp and she could tell the next point involves a better shift.
So she pressed her hands to the small of her back, forcing a defined switch so her own shoulders would hit the makeshift bed instead. She was willing enough to lose the clothes she wore, but still not quite willing enough to lose charge of a moment or its subsequent series. Because as soon as the difficult nature of the rest of her clothes were dealt with, her back rose from the floor, drawing this stranger up onto her lap instead.