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Oct. 11th, 2013 03:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notgoingtorunNeal had weathered disappearances before, ever since he first came to the island. Once Peter went, though, Neal began trying to harden himself against the inevitable, that people he cared about would go, and he had no say in it. In some respects, it was just like home: keep your ties light, so they can't be used against you.
He'd never been able to stop himself from falling for a beautiful woman, though, so even in that respect, the island was nothing new.
He hadn't lost anyone close to him in a while, but he knew it was rough for Kate and Lilo, and the disappearances made him think about things he couldn't promise: I'm never going anywhere, he wanted to say, but in this, he had to give up control to the island, and Neal had never excelled at letting anyone or anything have control over his life.
Neal stretched out in bed, a glass of wine on the bedside table, and a sheaf of papers in his lap. He sketched idly on the paper, not with any real intent other than taking his mind off of how overwhelmingly sad everyone seemed to be these days.
It was working; he was so focused on the drawing (and the wine) that he didn't hear Kate come in.
He'd never been able to stop himself from falling for a beautiful woman, though, so even in that respect, the island was nothing new.
He hadn't lost anyone close to him in a while, but he knew it was rough for Kate and Lilo, and the disappearances made him think about things he couldn't promise: I'm never going anywhere, he wanted to say, but in this, he had to give up control to the island, and Neal had never excelled at letting anyone or anything have control over his life.
Neal stretched out in bed, a glass of wine on the bedside table, and a sheaf of papers in his lap. He sketched idly on the paper, not with any real intent other than taking his mind off of how overwhelmingly sad everyone seemed to be these days.
It was working; he was so focused on the drawing (and the wine) that he didn't hear Kate come in.
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Date: 2013-10-27 08:29 pm (UTC)She makes him come undone in a way no one else has managed, and he wonders, not for the first time, how he's ever gotten so lucky.
It's a nice change from wondering when things were going to go terribly wrong, at least.
His fingers splay against her skin. "Thank you for trusting me with that, then," he says before leaning in, pressing his lips to her neck, trailing down her skin. "Your wish is my command." He lets one hand drop from her breast back to her hip, pulling her close, but replaces it quickly with lips and tongue.
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Date: 2013-10-27 09:58 pm (UTC)Oh gods he knows, and knows her, knows exactly what he's doing to her. She's so easy for him. Wet already and wanting. But she knows him, too. Good things come to Kates who wait. Who let Neal decide what he wants. Later, maybe, she'll decide, but for now, she's good, happy to slide her hand down his shoulder and arch toward him, encourage him to keep that up, unless or until he wants something else.
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Date: 2013-10-31 03:09 am (UTC)He wants to make her feel like he worships her. It's the honest truth, he does, and it's the way it always is for him. He can do quick and hard and fast, sure, but even then, he wants her to know, always, that this is more than just fucking; he wants to say with his hands and his lips and his tongue what he can't always find the words to express.
Neal lets his free hand slide around her hip to palm flat between her legs, pressing up against the warm heat of her, and he wants her so bad it aches, right down to his core. If he had his way, they'd spend all of their time in bed, to hell with their other responsibilities. That's not the way the world works, of course -- he's an idealist but he's seen to much to not have a dash of realist in him -- but a boy can dream.
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Date: 2013-10-31 06:06 am (UTC)He's like... like a teenaged guy in love with a kama sutra master skills. Sometimes she doesn't know what to do with how he touches her, adores her. Today's not one of those days.
She ducks her head to bite -- softly -- at his neck, pull a harder kiss off it, then squirms free of his grasp to get out of her jeans. Fast. She wants him, wants him touching her without barriers. The teen make-out thing is hot for awhile, but third base is calling and home.
When her jeans hit the floor, she hooks her finger through his belt loop. "Off," she murmurs and then drops herself on the bed on her back, arms and legs spread wide enough to make an invitation. "Off, and then you can take all the time you want."