Room 505, Tuesday Late Afternoon

[thismaskiwear]

So one minute there'd been an attempt at actually, finally sucking it up, saying 'the hell with it,' and kissing Francine until she couldn't breathe as a prelude to other things that . . . would have a definite impact on breathing.

And then she'd been small, and fuzzy, with floppy ears, and NOT ADORABLE, DAMMIT.

Katchoo had been keeping up quite the mental rant about this in her head ever since it had happened, but being a bunny she couldn't exactly express it in her usual oh-so-charming way. Chewing on things, maybe, vented some of the frustration but she had a lot more of that built up than this tiny lapine form should have room to hold.

. . . that rant was still going, no matter how comfortable she was at the particular moment.

[OOC: For that girl. NOT YOU, RAVEN. ETA: This post might be kinda NWS now. WHAT?]

Comments

[thatsamilkshake]

"Uh..." Francine answered intelligently, because Francine. "Um. I guess if you want?"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Ow. Snorting like that hurt a little when you were still getting used to not having a bunny nose any more.

"Bed. Comfortable."

That would require moving, though. And she kind of liked where she was, actually.

[thatsamilkshake]

"You could've just--" She was considering sticking out her tongue but then her bra disappeared and she got a little distracted trying to figure out where exactly that went, and how she could keep talking and use her tongue for better things again at the same time. "Bed."

That would require moving, though, and she might very well fall over in the attempt.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Not to mention there were other items of clothing that Katchoo would like

gone now

, thank you very much, and while that was doable while lying down it was a pain.

Thus Katchoo, now, leaning against that closet door like her life (or at least uprightness) damn well depended on it, sliding her hands to Francine's waistband. No verbal commentary necessary here; at the moment it wasn't exactly

possible

.

[thatsamilkshake]

So yeah, Francine was Francine, and that meant her own hands sort of stilling at that, because oh hi, but Francine was also Francine and determined to not let that be the prelude to a flail, or let Katchoo think it was, so...

So, something. So, moving her hands. That would be good. And maybe her lips, too, across Katchoo's chin to her jaw, and then to her throat.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

This could be easier. This

should

be easier, except that Katchoo's mind was racing along a speed limit free highway of

oh my god this is Francine and she's really letting me do this and those are her lips and she's not running away oh my god oh my god

and it made her fumble just a bit. Which might, in its own quirky way, be more reassuring than anything. She hoped.

"I love you, Francie." And that was important, too, enough to stop what she was doing long enough to say it, because she hadn't been able to say it in over a week and now especially, with pants getting worked loose so they could slide unmissed to the floor, it needed to be said.

[thatsamilkshake]

Not unmissed. Francine had a higher than average awareness pantsdar than some people and you better believe she was aware of the change from pants to no pants when the no pants in question were hers, but... unmourned? That would work.

No, pants were not more important than I love you. They were just simpler to understand. "I know."

Did I just quote Space Battles during foreplay? Oh God, I'm a moron. Did I just think the word foreplay? Mipph.

"I mean... tell me you know what I mean, because I think my brain just melted out my ear and wow that was gross, sorry. I love you too."

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Unmissed, unmourned, whatever. Katchoo could hardly be bothered to care about semantics

now

of all times. She certainly wouldn't miss them.

As evidenced by her hand sliding along the back of Francine's thigh when she turned her head to nip at an earlobe -- no, no gross dribbling brains here -- and murmur, "I know." Which was not, for the record, her quoting

Space Battles

.

[thatsamilkshake]

Gnyaaaah. Wait, was she supposed to be thinking something coherent? Brain. Ears. How could she not see it? Maybe it was just invisible.

"Good. That's--" Oh hey, there were her fingers. She'd lost track of those. Kind of a shame because that meant she couldn't quite remember the trip from Katchoo's waist and up her side and wow um um um um um um wow um. (Normal people call that a breast, Francine. A ways smaller than yours, but it should still be recognizable, especially considering the lily.) "Warm." That... wasn't the word she'd been going to say.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Oh, it's not warm enough yet, honey, I'm only getting started."

And that was the Baby June tone of voice, only Katchoo couldn't possibly have felt less like Baby June than she did right now. Not when Francine's hand was right there, and her own fingers were sliding very slowly upward and the word "love" was involved, which was less important than the fact that the word was true.

[thatsamilkshake]

So once upon a time maybe Francine had watched Taste of the Apple volumes 1, 2, and 3 (subtitle: Red Delicious, and if volume 4 turned out to be Granny Smith, Francine was so out of there) thinking mostly can I do that and if I can, will I go to Hell and that sort of looks fun if I picture it with different faces and but that woman has no HIPS, my legs don't BEND that way and it was all kind of academic and embarrassing and awkwardly tingly at the same time.

None of which has anything to do with the effect Katchoo's voice had on her now except for the part where if you could bottle and sell that feeling, 'Dite would go out of business. "Chewie?"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

That would solve their financial problems nicely. It'd also be slightly more feasible than getting to Switzerland, but please. This was not about pocketbooks. Or even pockets, now that pants were out of the picture.

"Yeah, Francie?"

[thatsamilkshake]

"Falling over on the floor in three...two...one..." Not that she was, yet, but.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

That settled it. Katchoo didn't want to be down there.

"Bed," she said firmly. "Now. 'kay?"

[thatsamilkshake]

"Kay. So very kay. You have no idea how kay." That could go on for a while. She should probably find something else to do with her mouth.

Clavicles are nice.

Doing things to clavicles with your tongue? Not so conducive to moving backwards towards a bed with anything like coordination.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Having things done to your clavicles with someone's tongue? Not conducive to helping the movement be any more coordinated. Just for the record.

The squirming probably had something to do with that, but never let it be said that Katchoo wasn't

trying

.

There might be some progress being made here. Very staggery progress.

[thatsamilkshake]

Very staggery progress backwards by someone half a foot taller then the squirming clavicle-owner whose skin tasted like water and salt. Like most skin, but Francine didn't exactly have tons of comparisons under the belt she wasn't wearing. Or any sense of balance whatsoever, so you can see where this is going, right? Right. It's going backwards onto the nearest bed with a great windmilling of arms, but no broken noses.

Hopefully.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

No, no broken noses. A slight

whoof

! of air when Katchoo landed on top of her, but at least it wasn't the other way around?

This was not going to ruin the moment. Katchoo wouldn't let it.

"Hi there," she drawled instead, and yes, Francine, that would be Katchoo . . . maneuvering her thigh between yours.

[thatsamilkshake]

Her other first time had involved Emmett Cullen banging on a bathroom door and then at some point there was ripping required to get her out of spandex, and that hadn't ruined the mood.

Granted there was sex pollen involved that time, but this time there was a Katchoo on top of her, being very very warm and soft and kind of squishy and also -- "Hi, there" -- there was that thigh, there. So you know.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Hi." That word? Breathed just next to Francine's ear by the warm, soft, kind of squishy (despite being so scrawny) Katchoo on top of her, hands sliding slowly down Francine's sides and back up again because there were breasts, and she had hands that curved in just the right way to cup them.

That thigh might be applying the subtlest bit of pressure now. Just saying.

[thatsamilkshake]

And maybe it wasn't just Francine's face that got all flushed when stuff like this happened. Not that stuff like this had happened in a long damn time or depending how you looked at it, ever, but the point was... what was the point? Francine was shifting her leg and closing her eyes, and the point sort of escaped out the window, there. Something about breasts.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Breasts, or maybe Katchoo's mouth trailing a slow, wet path along the side of her neck.

Did there need to be a point? It seemed a little extraneous when you factored in mouths and hands and the steady, gentle rocking movement of Katchoo's leg.

[thatsamilkshake]

Point, what point? Maybe the point was how - nnnnnngh you can DO that? Why didn't I know you can do that? - steady Francine wasn't in response, hands clasping then sliding down Katchoo's back for a moment just to stop herself from turning rock into jerk.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

You knew now, Francine. That was the key part.

Unless the key part was Katchoo returning the favor about the clavicle thing, throwing in light nips with her teeth every now and then. It was a bit harder to keep her movements quite so steady when there were hands sliding down her back and wow, shivers up her spine.

[thatsamilkshake]

That part was contagious, which was weird considering how hot it was in here, or maybe that was just Francine having trouble with her thermostat. It seemed to think they were back in the West Indies again or something, requiring her to throw her head back just to find some air.

Or give better access to her clavicles. You decide. It's like a Choose Your Own Adventure!