riverviewlogs | [closed] it's a new dawn, it's a new day

A couple of months ago I was using rolled up card to eat Mac'n'Cheese. Now we're talking cutlery? Maybe a drawer for cutlery.

( She's teasing him, but there's something gleeful about her expression, wide eyed and delighted as she takes in their apartment. Because it is, theirs. They signed paperwork for it. Clarice doesn't have the words to verbalise how she never say that on the horizon.

Her ever present backpack gets lowered onto the floor by the door. She'd had it when she arrived here, she'd always had it nearby even before, just in case. But now she's thinking she'll put the spare shirts in a closet, her toothbrush on the sink. For a second it's dizzyingly overwhelming. But then she's reaching for John's hand to anchor herself, smile turning soft. )

We can make a list.

A drawer. And a whole space for your clothes. A proper bedframe. Chairs that match.

[ It feels incongruous, to be so excited by such small things, things that most people take for granted. But they've been living out of cardboard boxes, military cots and with bags fully packed as pillows, just in case they'd need to run. So there's something to be said about the rush of adrenaline John feels as he looks at Clarice, at their joined hands, at the corridor around them, light streaming in from the window in the kitchen. ]

I think I'm going to try and build a few things, too. Shelving, mainly. To start with.

[ It's so quiet. No more hushed conversation in every corner, people coming and going at all hours of the day. The door locks, and it's just the two of them.

It's finally just the two of them, and it bears repeating. ]

And then there were two.

I'm so going to watch you do that.

( She doesn't even mean it in a lewd way. Or at least, not entirely. Because there's something very appealing about the idea of watching John build something. Something they want, shelves to put books on, or the little dog she'd got at the Festival. Trinkets, belongings, things they never get to have. Clarice can't imagine filling the space, even if it's small, but she wants to try.

His words make her look over, and then the awe of the space turns into something more. She bites her lip, tips her head to the side. )

I have a confession. ( Running her thumb over the back of his hand. She turns so she's facing him again, colour on her cheeks. Her hand goes to his chest, pressing against the material of his shirt. He's real and alive beneath her palm and she is so ridiculously in love with him that it hurts. ) I asked Cisco to dogsit because all I want to do right now is kiss you and not have to stop. For anything.

( He's all she wants right now. )

[ He laughs, the sound seeming to echo through the space. But it's short lived, as Clarice continues talking, switching topics entirely, making him dry-swallow. ]

I won't lie, I have been thinking about - [ he pauses, feeling his heart in his throat. The door is locked behind them, and no one to walk in and interrupt them. There is nothing, and no one, to stop them. ] - getting you alone. Finally.

[ Which, in a way, he got to have, last month. But things were different then, and it feels like they'd been moving along nicely only to stop abruptly, and now, now they're kicking it into high gear.

He moves his free hand to her shoulder, fingers curling in the wide strap of her shirt, peeking out from under her sweater. ]

It's been hard to think about anything else.

( His fingers at the strap of her shirt make her shiver deliciously. The very realness of it almost feels like it's too much. Clarice can't breathe for a moment, can't think. Because she's alive, blood rushing and her skin tingling. She wants him to touch her, and she wants to touch him, and anything else can just wait. Pushing, Clarice smiles when he lets her press him against the door, something wonderful about the look on his face as she leans in to catch his mouth with her own. The kiss starts out slow, at first, gentle, relearning each other because they'd needed to keep their distance until now. It's still amazing. She licks at his mouth, curls her fingers in his shirt when he parts his lips.

One of them makes a noise, and she presses closer, hand moving to his neck where his pulse is as frantic as her own. They're chest to chest now, a yearning loosening inside of her. She feels warm and desperate and hungry, which is why she pulls back, swollen mouth and dazed eyes. She wants him so badly it feels like she might burst with it. )

I need you to tell me we can. That you want it too.

( She's been the one who pushes, she can't do it again. )

[ The kiss is - perfect, exactly what he’s been needing and has been keeping himself from getting, in fear that it would just lead them somewhere they couldn’t come back from in a place they couldn’t be alone. But now they are and Clarice’s hands are warm and all John can think about is her and how much he wants her. His hand slides to curl around her neck, his tongue pushing into her mouth, deepening the kiss, a hint of desperation laced through it.

When she pulls away, John blows out a breath, but it’s her words that make him groan, his stomach flipping. They’re doing this, and there’s no coming back from it, not that John wants to.

He’s not one to swear, but the first word past his lips is a hearty: ] Fuck.

There’s nothing I want more, right now.

[ And with that, he reaching down to the back of her thighs, hoisting her up into his arms and walking determinedly towards their makeshift bed, kissing her again with renewed fervor. ]

( He lifts her up and she's quick to wrap her legs around his waist, laughing happily against his mouth. Clarice had fantasised about how he'd be when he finally let himself go, but it's nothing compared to living it. She grips his hair, but doesn't tug, teasing his bottom lip with her teeth, shirt rucked up and her thighs tight.

When he puts her down, she can't hold back the giggle, hair all over the place and eager hands reaching to tug him down with. )

That was hot.

( Because it needs to be said.

They end up side by side and Clarice hooks foot over his ankle and shifts in closer to kiss him again. She hums sweetly, hand finding his waist to press up beneath his t-shirt. He's warm under her touch, thumb tracing his stomach. And then she lets go, to kick off her boots and flop on her back, fingers in the pocket of her jeans to boldly pull out a strip of condoms. She doesn't blush, but it's a near thing. ) Not that I was betting on anything. ( She so was. ) But we also don't have furniture and I was not chancing fate.

[ He can’t stop looking at her. The way her shirt is working up her stomach, the way she kicks off her shoes like she can’t wait for them to be out of the way, how bright her eyes are, how red her lips. He touches, reverently, palm sliding along her hip, up her side, stopping just short of the underside of her bra, his eyes devouring her.

And then she pulls out condoms, and John’s reaction is twofold. One, he laughs, loud and hearty, in a way he hasn’t in a long time. And two, he bites down on a few words, god, I love you, instead pressing kisses to her cheek, the corner of her mouth. He has some himself, in the back pocket of his jeans. ]

You beat me to it, [ He says, before pulling at Clarice’s hip until he’s lying on his back and she’s on top of him, body to body, pressed close. His hands push up under her shirt and jumper, not willing to waste time, now. ]

( Clarice is pretty sure that she'd burn worlds down for that laugh. It's the most unrestrained she's ever heard him be, free and happy and it lights her up inside. She beams at him from where she's now straddling his waist, shifting beneath his palms before she's tugging her jumper up and over her head. )

Oh, don't worry. We'll use those too.

( Because they have an apartment, and they can do this whenever they want. She doesn't remove her shirt, instead she's struck by the desire to kiss him again. Her mouth finds his, sucking his bottom lip between her teeth, her own hands pushing back under his shirt so she can drag her nails against the sensitive skin of his stomach. Her hips move restlessly, pressing down against his because she can't help herself. She's hot and aroused and she wants. )

[ John groans into the kiss when Clarice drags her nails against his stomach, his muscles tensing involuntary in response. He arches, before rocking his hips up, hands all over her back, her shirt almost offensive to him, with how much he wants to see her without it. Now that they’re here, and that they’re doing this, it’s hard to think of a time where he tried to restrain himself, a time where he wanted to take things slow.

They’ve done it. They’ve been patient, and now John feels like he’s burning from the inside out, wearing way too many clothes. Which is why he sits back up, breaking the kiss only to take his shirt off, sparing a second to think that it’s not the first time she’s seeing him shirtless, sadly. But it’ll be the first time she sees him naked.

He fits his lips to her shoulder, moving along skin until he hits fabric, and grunts. ]

If you don’t take this off I am going to rip it off of you.

Fuck.

( Clarice shudders at that, hands twitching against his skin. She huffs out a breath, rocking against him with a small hum. )

That sounds really hot, okay? When I've actually got more than three shirts to my name I definitely want you to do that.

( Leaning back, Clarice yanks it over her head, tossing it aside quickly. Her purple hair tumbles over her shoulder, simple black bra doing nothing to hide the hardness of her nipples. It's his she strokes a thumb over though, teasing them into hard peaks. She can feel him swelling beneath her, grinding down against him without thinking. Her hands reach for his belt, the buckle making a clinking noise. She's eager, so eager, she can't stop smiling at him. )

Shirts. They’re going on the list.

[ He’ll buy tons of basic shirts in packs of that means he gets to rip them off of her small frame, his hands finding skin as soon as she takes the one she was wearing off. She’s so tiny he’s almost able to touch the tips of his fingers when he wraps his hands around her waist, letting out a small noise as his eyes drift down over her chest, as she thumbs his nipple, making his jaw clench.

They both know how in check John is, most of the time. But he knows that right now, he doesn’t have to be. Right now, he can be himself, he can unwind, he can touch and kiss and taste as much as he wants to, and Clarice wants him to. He leans in, mouth at the swell of her breast, just over her bra, his eyes closing as he takes in the feel of her skin, so soft under his lips. His hands reach up to the hooks keeping her underwear on, undoing them precisely before he drags the straps down her arms. There’s no going back, even if he wanted to. ]

( She tries to smother the noise she makes when he mouths at the skin above her cup, a delicious shudder rolling through her as she closes her eyes. One hand finds his hair to fist her fingers there, dragging out the band that holds his ponytail in place. The other yanks the leather of his belt away, lets it go somewhere beyond the mattress.

Clarice is still rocking against him, small helpless movements. She feels warm all over, but she's blazing in the spaces that they touch. Her bra comes loose and she lets go only to let it fall too, chest hitching with every breath. Kissing him again, all of the hunger she'd contained and controlled finally feels as though it's let free. Her hands roam over his chest again, eager touches that map out unmarked skin. She wants to touch all the places she hadn't been allowed before, wants to know John in every single way she can, fingertips dragging from clavicle and down, over his belly, the muscles of his hips.

Her mouth finds his jaw as she works the button of his jeans free, pushing past the zipper so she can get her fingers between them, cupping him through his underwear. The noise she makes is surprised, but definitely pleased as she leans back to grin at him. )

I should have known. Big hands --.

( A slow stroke, still over the fabric. He should know where she's going with this. )

[ The way she makes him feel, it's - he's like fire, somehow even more invincible than he actually is. She touches him and his whole body responds, arching into it, kissing her fervently and reverently all at once, a hand cradling her head, the other touching her right back, his stomach tightening as he brushes the tips of his fingers against one of her nipples, feeling it harden against his touch.

He gasps when she attacks his belt, getting it off in some smooth moves, slipping her hand past and into his jeans and he has to break the kiss to breathe, tensing all over when she strokes her palm over him. It takes him a moment to even compute what she just said, because Clarice's hand is down his pants, and she's so composed and clear-headed, apparently, he's going to have to do something about that. But the fog clears a little, and he chuckles, feeling his cheeks flush. ]

I thought the saying was about big feet?

[ He rocks his hips against her hand, breathing hard through his nose. Really, she's having way too good a time teasing him like he's having no effect on her right back, and this is not going to work out for him. So he pulls back a little, going for her jeans right back, popping open the buttons and tugging it down her hips. ]

Off -

Those too.

( He's built like a tank. She's always noticed that. She just hadn't let her thoughts wander to considering below the belt. It had been hard enough to avoid getting carried away as it was.

His hands are pushing her jeans down and Clarice makes a delighted noise, half laugh, half agreement, rolling over so she can wriggle out of them. She's too eager, the denim gets stuck on her foot and she has to kick it free with her other one, but she actually doesn't care about looking suave right now. This is John, she wants to be herself with him. She wants him to know her properly. )

Damn clothes.

( Finally free of her trap, Clarice shifts, purple hair spilling over her shoulder. She looks at John, something hot and lingering in her gaze. He looks like a fantasy and for a minute she forgets how to breathe. )

Your turn.

[ He wouldn't want Clarice to be suave, anyway. That's not the Clarice he knows or cares for - the Clarice he loves. That Clarice is bold, and blustering, and brave, and incredibly funny, sharp-tongued and always keeping him on his toes. That is the Clarice he wants, all day, every day, all the time.

So he looks at her kick her jeans off, laughing and breathless, and his heart swells in his chest, taking all the space. He looks at her and he grins helplessly in return, obviously, hopelessly taken. ]

I did offer to rip them off of you.

[ He's moving to his back though, to be able to take off his own jeans, which aren't as skinny and slide off his legs more easily than Clarice's, taking his underwear off right along with them.

In a second, he's rolled back over Clarice, looking down into her eyes for a moment before he leans in, kissing her collarbone, moving down, with a purpose. ]

( She is going to need to buy three whole wardrobes now, because she desperately wants John to just do his thing. She'd let him fuck up any number of jeans if he wanted. She almost considers saying that out loud, but then he's naked and she can't help but look at him.

Her stomach twists in anticipation, warmth flooding through her veins, damp heat between her thighs. He's gorgeous, all strong muscle and dark skin, and Clarice doesn't know if she's ever wanted something quite like how she wants John Proudstar. It's like hunger, like she's been famished her entire life.

He rolls over and she shivers when his lips find her collarbone, hand rising to fist in his hair. Her thumb runs circles against his skull, goosebumps rising across her skin. The sigh she lets out is soft, eyes closing for a minute. )

[ They're definitely going to destroy an amount of clothing. At least, John will, if only to get to Clarice faster. The mere thought makes his stomach tighten, rending a shirt in half in the middle, exposing her to him. There's something about the idea, something primal, that makes him want it so bad he fists his hands in the sheets covering their bed.

Their bed. His lips between Clarice's breasts, he has to stop and take a deep breath, composing himself as best he can before sliding his mouth over to take a nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue against it.

He doesn't stay there, though. He could, and one day he plans on it, take her apart slowly, inch by inch, but right now? Right now he has a plan, and a need. He keeps moving, kissing down, down, down along her stomach, her hipbones, until he's where he wants to be. ]

( She gasps quietly when his tongue finds her nipple, but it's nothing compared to the sound she makes when he gets his mouth between her thighs. Clarice keens sharply, once, hand flying up to cover her mouth like she's trying to be quiet. She shifts, restless, hips pressing up a little.

Her other hand doesn't seem to know what to do, it moves fitfully, from her stomach to the sheets, to John's hair where she runs her fingers through it. She doesn't pull, but she does curl her grip there, head hitting the pillows beneath her.

Another swallowed down noise, and then Clarice has both hands in his hair, because this is their home, their bed, and she doesn't need to be scared about being discovered. )

John.

[ He looks up when he makes his move, wanting to catalog every single shift, look, flush, anything Clarice could give him in response. He almost reaches up to move her hand off of her face, but he knows the habit all too well - it'll take them both a long time to get used to not having to be quiet, to not having to rush through things.

But John vows to start right now, flicking his tongue against Clarice's clit, letting his senses take over his thoughts. He can taste her in his mouth, feel her pulse in her thighs when he presses his fingers to them, hear her noises, the way she says his name - it's all too much, it's all perfect.

He doesn't move away, instead leans even closer, pulling one of her legs over his shoulder, hair all over as Clarice keeps her hands in it. He sucks hard on her clit then slides down, eyes closed, his whole body singing for hers, a part of him still refusing to believe this is happening at all. ]

( It's better than she'd imagined it to be. John's mouth is set on taking her apart with military precision, and Clarice can only react to it, her back arching, breath punched out in shaky gasps as he drags her leg over his shoulder. Her entire body feels like an exposed nerve - it's been so long since she's been touched like this, even the press of his fingers to her thigh have her shivering. Every pulse of her heartbeat feels like it sends pure electricity through her, a bolt of heat leaving her frazzled.

Heel pressing into the muscles of his back, she rocks her hips up slightly, the other leg bent at the knee and parted to give him more room. Except when he does something she likes, it jerks a little in surprise. It's taking her an extreme amount of self control not to just trap him with her knees to keep his mouth where it is. )

Fuck.

( Her hands twitch, tugging his hair lightly. She has to loosen her grip, running her finger through the locks, pushing it away from his forehead so she can gaze at the sight before her. )

[ Whenever she jerks, John smiles, pressing it right against her, dragging his fingers up and down her leg, feeling the smoothness of her skin.He closes his eyes as he focuses on Clarice and the way she feels against his tongue, how she moves against him, guiding him with her fingers in his hair and her hips rocking. He moans when she tugs at his hair - he's not exactly into pain, but it's a sharp sensation that travels all the way down to his cock anyway, powerful.

He drags his fingers up down the underside of her thigh, moving until they meet his tongue, rubbing against her for a moment before he slowly pushes one inside of her, sucking on her clit as he crooks his finger. It's been a while since he's done this, but Clarice is responsive, sounding and feeling so amazing John can barely take it. ]

( This is how she dies.

Because there's no way John can keep doing those things with his mouth and Clarice to not have catastrophic heart failure. Her chest hitches when he moans, a low passionate curse coming from the very depths of her soul. She can't loosen her grip on his hair, nor can she stop herself from squirming.

Then he adds a finger and she bucks up against the touch, breath punched out of her. ) Oh, Jesus.

( It's been so long, it's been too long, and yet all she wants is everything he can give her. ) You can --. I need more.

[ John wanted her incoherent, wanting her panting and flushed and begging for more, but he didn't realize just how badly it'd affect him to witness it, to hear her broken words and the need wrapped around them. He didn't think about how gut-punching it'd feel to have her like this, spread out and laid out for him, her nipples hard, her cheeks hot, her lips parted.

It's all - a lot, if you ask him. But he's not about to stop, not until she's shaking apart under his hands and mouth. Not until he's tried his very best to ruin her for anyone else. It's selfish and arrogant, but if he's allowed these feelings ever, it's in a moment like this.

She asks for more, and John complies, adding another finger, and then another, mouth focusing on her clit as he moves his fingers in rhythm with his mouth, humming gently against her every time she tugs at his hair. ]

( She hadn't missed sex. Not really. It was often too complicated a dance for Clarice to even consider, especially when she wasn't sure if she'd have a roof over her head from day to day. So she'd put those needs aside, because survival had been more important. Not getting hurt, refusing to be vulnerable around another person, it's all she could really aim for.

And then John Proudstar appeared in her life.

She'd wanted him almost immediately. It had been a feeling like falling and not knowing when you'd land. Their relationship had become a clusterfuck pretty quickly, but the longing had refused to go out. Now they're here, and he's between her thighs, mouth occupied in making her whimper and she knows that she's safe. Letting go is at once terrifying and exhilarating, and she'd fought it for so long.

Not anymore.

Her grip twists, the stretch of his fingers sending delicious thrills through her. Clarice bucks up when he presses his touch just right, eyes squeezed shut. It's almost too much, and she knows she won't last long. But here's the good thing - they get to do this whenever they want from now on. )

John. ( She curses again, her hips moving helplessly. ) God, I'm so --.

[ Sex had always been complicated, for John. Most things were complicated for him, but sex had been especially so. It was something he'd been terrified of, when he was a teenager, because he didn't have control over himself and he was certain he'd just hurt anyone he ended up touching. He'd shied away from it until he'd grown more controlled. And, after all, the worry shifted to wondering if he was too controlled, if he couldn't really let go.

He likes sex. Hell, he loves sex, but he's grown to love this - getting to see someone fall apart under his hands - more than the base act in itself. And right now, looking at Clarice like that, her hair everywhere, her body reacting to his touch, her mouth unable to keep her noises in check, calling out his name, it's -

It's pretty perfect, if you ask him. Especially when she moans that she's close, her hips moving as he flattens his tongue against her clit for a moment, his own hair all over, fingers wet and moving easily in and out of her. Yeah. That's pretty much perfection, right here.

He hums against her, urging her on, his free hand reaching down to his erection, turned on beyond belief by Clarice. She's the only thing that matters right now. ]

( It's a mess, and it's the most delightful thing. Clarice can barely keep her thoughts from unravelling, her body giving in to the sensations instead. She can't help the whimper, the cut off gasp when he fucks her with his fingers, the way she tugs her hair as her stomach ties itself in knots. She can't help the eager, enthusiastic way she rocks her hips against his mouth, the way she shivers at the sound of it all. His panted breaths, the slide of his tongue against her clit. It's amazing.

Nor can she help the way her muscles go tight, spine arching and her heels digging into his back as her suddenly and completely orgasm overwhelms her. Clarice cries out, unable to keep it in, a delicious kind of agony rolling through her. She pulses with it, sparks of energy flickering in her veins, cunt twitching against his lips. )

Oh my god. ( Her hand shakes when she lifts it to push back her sweaty hair, eyes still closed. But Clarice drops her leg from his shoulder and reaches the other hand out, making a grabby motion. ) Jesus Christ, come here.

[ That - that could become the fiercest, most prideful moment of John's entire life. When she comes, Clarice's fingers twitch with her power, little flicks of purple and blue that disappear as soon as they appear, beautiful and telling him just out of control she is for that moment, just that little moment they're sharing right now.

John moans against her, before moving, muscles tense with anticipation and need as he drags his lips up along Clarice's stomach, chest, taking a moment to flick his tongue against one of her nipples but not completely stopping either, until he's face to face with her, still tasting her on his lips. ]

You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that for.

( Her hand reaches out so she can drag her thumb along the swell of his bottom lip. He's still damp from her body and it's fascinating in such a visceral way, Clarice's eyes on his mouth while her body still thrums with feeling. )

Actually, I'm pretty sure I could guess.

( She knows how he looks at her sometimes. It's just surprising that they've finally been able to carve out this space for themselves. Fingers moving to run through his hair, she surges up to kiss him, tasting herself on his tongue. It makes her groan a little, nails scratching down his scalp. His cock is hard between them, his muscles shifting as he holds himself up and the affection that rolls through her is almost too much to bear.

Clarice loves him, she's head over fucking heels, and the fact that he feels the same has born some new kind of power in her. She wants life.

Finally finding her strength again, Clarice pushes him back against the mattress, a knee between his thighs. She bites at his lips gently, eager, her hand wrapping around his dick to slowly stroke him with a firm grip. It feels nice to grind down against his hip, breathless laughter pressed between them each time he twitches. When Clarice finally stops trying to leave marks on his jaw, she pulls only inches away, a question on her face. )

I'm totally going to blow you later. But I really, really need to have you inside of me right now.

( Groping for the condoms left somewhere in the messed up sheets, her eyebrow lifts slightly. ) Cool?

[ Clarice taking charge, like this, pushing him down and telling him what she wants, feels like pure adrenaline rushing through his veins. John looks at her, reaching up to tuck hair behind her ear, his eyes traveling all over her face and drinking her in, the mischievous tilt of her lips, the want in her eyes, everything about her electrifying him, his body responding to hers without prompting. He rolls his hips when she wraps a hand around him, groaning gently at the feeling, the muscles in his thighs tensing, brain swimming in endorphins.

When Clarice speaks up, John can only answer with a moan, cock twitching at the words, the depth of her voice, the desire in it. He opens his eyes, knowing she's trying to play it cool, to be this aloof, above-it-all kind of girl, but he reaches out, brushing fingers along her cheek. ]

Anything you want.

[ He's not trying to anything, right now. He's way too taken, looking at Clarice like she holds his entire world in her eyes, his voice soft. Vulnerable, in a way he doesn't let himself be, ever. The only way he knows how to show her just how much he feels for her. ]

Anything.

( Bravado melts away just as easily as it had come, John's gentle touch and rapt expression making her feel more exposed than she ever has before. But instead of terrifying her, it settles her nerves. Her touch on his cock moves still, keeping him on the edge as she leans forward to kiss him. Strands of her hair drag along his collarbone, her mouth insistent as Clarice tries to pour everything she really feels into this. When they part, her own voice is almost a whisper. )

I've got you.

( She lets go of him only to tear the foil packet apart, carefully rolling the condom over his cock. Green eyes greedily drink in his expression, stroking him slowly a couple more times. She wants to make it last, but the desperate need to hold him inside of her is stronger and Clarice moves to sling her leg over his waist, palm pressed into his shoulder. Her fingers keep him steady, she doesn't tease, just shifts her hips until the head of his cock is pressing against her. Now she does go slow, body adjusting to his size, his heat. She makes a helpless noise, taking him in bit by bit. )

Oh.

( So this is probably what heaven feels like. )

[ Having Clarice sink down onto him is -

Well, fuck. John is not one to curse, not one prone to outbursts, but that's all he can feel right now, as her heats envelops him, so tight and so much John can only hold on to her hips, having to force himself to be careful, not crush her under his fingers just because of a lapse in his control.

It's hard. It's the hardest thing, not to allow himself to completely, utterly fall into the depth of the feelings Clarice elicits, how good she feels around him, as she moves slow and steady, not a tease, just - a moment for the two of them to feel. ]

Clarice -

[ Her name sounds loud to his own ears, deafening in the otherwise silence of the apartment. This is it - she is it, everything, and John is never, ever getting over it. ]

( She has to hold still for a moment when she bottoms out. The feeling is far too intense, she needs to gather some semblance of sanity back. But John feels so amazing, filling her up like this, hot and warm and his hands on her hips. She's wanted, needed, she's ridiculously overwhelmed. )

Fuck.

( Her voice is a shuddering whisper, eyes closed as she pants. Clarice holds on to him like he's a port in a storm, fingers digging into his shoulders. When she thinks she's brave enough to move it retains it's pace, hesitant at first, careful. Her hips rock against his, the drag of his cock inside her leaving stars behind her eyes. She doesn't remember the last time she felt want like this, as though someone has struck a match in a forest and it's eating everything up. When she finally opens her eyes, her pupils are blown with lust, but her face retains something --.

Love, probably. Even if she can't say it. )

You feel amazing.

[ John has no words. He's not one to get tongue-tied, speechless, but he is right now, body consuming by the sensations of Clarice over him, of being inside her, the two of them as close as they possibly can be. He breathes in, deep, chest expanding under her hands, and looks straight at her, at how incredible she looks, how incredible she feels. His hands move up along her sides, curling around her breasts, feeling like the world is moving in slow-motion.

He moves when he feels still too far from Clarice, pushing up from the bed to sit up, arching to pull one of her nipples into his mouth first, then moving up some more to kiss her again, one hand tangling up in her hair, silky purple strands wrapped around his fingers as he pulls her close, impossibly close, using an ounce of his strength for it. ]

( It's intimate in ways sex probably hasn't been for her before. Trust had always been a little more hard to come by for Clarice, and over the years she's had to harden her heart more often than not. So it had never been world-shattering. Never been the kind of soul-bearing experience that people claim it to be.

She hadn't met John then.

John who swept aside those defenses like they were nothing, who looked at her sometimes and made her feel more seen than she should have liked. Who smiled sometimes, and lit Clarice up like a firework. He made her feel all of those dumb, ridiculous romantic cliches, made her forget to be sharp-edged and uncaring. The man who took the world on top of his shoulders and still had the time to treat her gently, carefully, making sure this time that she knew it was real and he felt it too.

She curls an arm around his shoulders, fingers buried in his hair. Her hips move, kicked into action by his lips on her breast, grinding down onto his lap with need filling her veins. Clarice can't stop herself from tugging a little, and when he breaks away to breathe, her lips find his throat, tasting the salt of his skin with her tongue. )

[ John tilts his head back, closing his mouth and clenching his jaw, body moving without conscious thought, pushed to the very brink of his control, of his very being. He's mainly just feeling at this point, skin to skin, fingers trailing, touching, hips rolling up, lungs struggling to gather enough air with every breathe he takes.

It's cliche, when he blinks his eyes open and forces himself to look at Clarice, to press his forehead to hers, it's cliche but damn if it's not sincere when he speaks, words a little slurred and definitely full of feelings. ]

I love you -

( Oh.

Oh, but Clarice shivers at that, her lips parted on a sigh, her pulse jumping, hips twitching against his. Nobody's ever said those words to her before, nobody's ever meant them, and they feel monumental, mountainous. John loves her, and even if sometimes she can't figure out why, she's so glad that he does.

She kisses him then, hands framing his face, eyes closed. She kisses him slow and lingering, hips slowing so that she can feel every inch of him as he drags inside of her. Her tongue tastes the salt from his lips, mouth finding the sensitive spot beneath his jaw. She wants to show him how much she cares, how much she feels, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, body pressed against his as they move together. Part of her feels broken open and laid bare and it's exquisite in its sweet kind of pain.

Pressing her forehead to his shoulder, her palms map the shape of his back, the muscles there, dipping down to his waist. She can't stop touching him. )

[ When he comes, it's like a gut punch. It's surprising, comes out of nowhere, and makes John grip Clarice's hips tighter, his body stuttering as he thrusts his hips up, chokes on his breaths, his hair in his face and his lips sticking to Clarice's skin. Somehow manages to feel perfect, complete, right.

He holds her through it, before falling back on the bed, pulling her right along with him. ]

Can't believe I wasted that much time not doing this with you.

( John falls back and she goes easily, a delicious shiver fluttering through her from all the places their sticky, over-sensitive skin touches, from feeling the way he shifts inside her. She's a mess, and it's wonderful.

Clarice doesn't bite back the gasp it causes, nor does she stop herself from pressing her lips to where his pulse is racing. ) Mm. But we've got time now. We just needed to get here.

( "Here" not necessarily meaning the Quarantine. They've had a long journey. )

[closed] it's a new dawn, it's a new day

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