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]

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!

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

How about both? Katchoo could go with both as an answer. After all, if Francine didn't need some air with what she was doing here, not to mention raking her nails lightly along the curve of Francine's side, she was doing it wrong.

[thatsamilkshake]

No. No, whatever it was, she was most certainly, definitely, Francine would swear on a stack of bibles and worry later about whether she was going to Hell for it, not doing it wrong.

Francine still had some vestige of wondering if she was, but it was mostly lodged in her brain-stem, nowhere near her vocal cords. Like, some part of her nervous system wondered if trying to wrap her leg around Katchoo's was helpful or not, but she was in no shape to actually ask.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

F$*k a stack of Bibles, Katchoo might say, and to hell with . . . uh, with the question of going to hell.

But that was all beside the point, wasn't it?

Besides, kissing a slow, deliberate trail down Francine's sternum, pausing every now and then to flick her tongue against bare skin then exhale a warm breath against the spot -- wasn't that an answer, or at least reassurance?

She certainly wasn't showing any intention of stopping.

[thatsamilkshake]

Both, it was both. Or at least it was enough to send Francine far enough out of her head that is this right/what should I be doing/oh godohgodohgod were swimming someplace a foot below her, like the thoughts belonged to somebody else.

Well, except for the "Oh godohgod" which kind of slipped out of her mouth, so she really did have to cop to that one.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

And don't think for a second that didn't make Katchoo, pausing with her lips against Francine's skin just below her breasts, smile.

She reached up for Francine's hand to lace their fingers together, and scraped her teeth gently against the spot she was kissing. It was like there wasn't an upper limit for physical contact here. She wanted as much of it as she could get.

The "Oh godohgod" was, by the way, entirely mutual. If only internal on Katchoo's end.

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine wrapped her fingers down tight - maybe a little too tight at first, but that might have something to do with the fact that she'd just discovered that drawing her own knee up a bit did really interesting things to that pressure from Katchoo's between her thighs.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Okay, maybe a little bit of ow, but Katchoo was taking it as a good sign.

She might also maybe, just maybe, be kissing a slightly less slow but definitely inexorable trail downward, over Francine's stomach, lingering a bit to see just which spots were the most sensitive.

[thatsamilkshake]

All of them? Francine would take All Of Them for 1000, Alex. She'd also take a breath and hold it, but relax her fingers so she wasn't crushing Katchoo's hand.

With her other hand, she reached to trail her fingers over Katchoo's hair, softly tracing the edge of one ear.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

She might need that hand eventually, so thanks, Francine.

Thanks, by way of -- oh, was that an elastic waistband Katchoo had in her teeth all of a sudden?

[thatsamilkshake]

Don't mention it, Katchoo.

Like really, don't mention it, because then you'd have to stop what you're doing and Francine would ... something. Would make a frustrated unhhh! sound instead of just inhaling again like she'd forgotten what oxygen tasted like.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

She could mention it, but she wasn't. Mentioning it wasn't half as appealing as giving a slow, suggestive tug on that waistband with her teeth, letting the fingers of her free hand trail just beneath it, and raking her nails across the skin there.

The mental drumbeat of ohmygodohmygodohmygod hadn't let up yet. In fact, it was only getting faster.

[thatsamilkshake]

That would be Francine's fingers getting a little less gentle again, right there. Not the ones in her hair; she didn't want to pull it. ...Not much? But the ones laced with Katchoo's were less laced and more needing to move, Francine's thumb bending in to rub at the warmth of Katchoo's palm.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Right. The cloth of the underwear that elastic band was attached to was getting to be damn annoying now, all in the way like that. Katchoo let out a soft growl and hooked her fingers into it, tugging downward, covering Francine's skin with light kisses as she did.

The hand linked with Francine's flexed slightly, curving around to cup that thumb in her palm, and regrettably this was no longer a position that let her keep up that rocking motion with her thigh, but soon, hopefully -- she was resolutely squashing the tiny bit of lingering worry that Francine might have second thoughts -- there wouldn't be much to regret any more.

[thatsamilkshake]

If Francine was going to have second thoughts, they weren't happening now. She'd need to be able to have first thoughts...first.

Shift your ass, Peters wasn't really so much of a thought as a mostly involuntary nerve impulse that expressed itself a little rudely but got the job done, since it made the annoying cloth a little easier to tug down.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

It did. Oh holy frikkin' god, yes, it did, and the sooner Katchoo could get the stupid thing out of her way the better and --

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod all over again, and she had to pause and rest her cheek against the inside of Francine's thigh and just remember to breathe.

[thatsamilkshake]

Okay, that other hand that had been doing something in Katchoo's hair? Francine had absolutely no idea where it was now. She had lost track of a limb. Because you know what happens when someone has their cheek resting against the inside of your thigh and remembers to breathe? Yeeeeah.

(For the record, it was hanging out in the vicinity of her left breast, happily doing its own thing, and really in no danger if she wanted to come back and pick it up later when she could concentrate better.)

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo missed having that hand in her hair (and for the record would be more than a little distressed if it happened to end up completely misplaced somehow). There were other things, though, overwhelming her senses at the moment.

Breathing accomplished: check. Shifting up a few inches, which was next on the agenda --

Ohmyfrikkin'god.

Check.

[thatsamilkshake]

That was a check on the Ohmyfrikkin'god from Francine too. Minus the frikkin'.

It was also Francine's lost limb getting found enough to slide back and prop her on her elbow so she could Ohmyfrikkin'god this time with the frikkin' look. Why that seemed like a sane idea, she couldn't say, but then she couldn't say much of anything at all, just breathe and stare. And.... think a little guiltily that this wasn't the first time she'd seen what she was seeing. It was just that now her eyes were open and it was real.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

So real. So very -- heat and scent and taste and movement ohmygod -- real.

Not even Katchoo could stop to waste too much time thinking, immersed in all of that. Hard to stop and think when instinct and emotion had taken over, anyway, and she could angle her head just that little bit that way, inhale sharply, and run her nails along the inside of Francine's thigh.

Her eyes were closed, but as it was she was just that close to sheer sensory overload. She was about 99.8% certain that if she opened her eyes she'd turn to ash on the spot.

[thatsamilkshake]

...Not a super-power Francine had ever been aware of having, and as such things went, she'd much prefer flight or the ability to turn water into hot chocolate, but just in case, maybe you should keep your eyes closed, Katchoo.

Francine would do the watching for both of them. That, and shiver a little even though it was all heat, nails across her skin and warm breath there and... yeah. Okay. Maybe there was some risk of spontaneous combustion after all.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

That risk was mutual, so Katchoo would keep her eyes very firmly closed and just concentrate on what she was doing. You wouldn't think lips and tongue would take that much concentration, but they did. Or maybe she was just that focused. Or both, and trying not to think too hard about the fact that she was just getting started.

[thatsamilkshake]

So the watching thing... it didn't have to be constant, right? Because Katchoo wouldn't disappear if Francine blinked, right? Right?

Nope, still there. So maybe it was -holygnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah- safe to shut her eyes and throw her head back after all because it was that or stop breathing again.

There. Just red-flecked darkness and the sound of her own breath and also -holygnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah- that.

And a distant chirpy beep like she had new mail or something, but frankly even if it was telling her the school was burning down and they should get the hell out, she'd answer it later.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Chirpy beep? What? Not that one that sounded like it was rolling from under the bed and into the closet, as if Katchoo could even tell you that was what it was doing?

Katchoo had better things to do. No, not that kind of do -- get your prurient mind out of the gutter, at least about the terminology.

For the record, Katchoo had no intention of disappearing, not when she could wrap an arm around Francine's thigh, hitch herself up a little closer, and -- there. Contours to trace and all the right spots to tease and maybe if she just let her teeth scrape lightly right there . . .

[thatsamilkshake]

Then Francine could make a sound that someday when she was lucid again would have her tapping paranoiacally on the wall to see just how thin it really was?