ralliesprotests | Ainmhian IC Inbox

That heat underneath them doesn’t dissuade Rowan at all, quite the opposite. They shift slightly, lining themself up better so they’re not digging anything bony into Edgar, then rock again, slowly, deliberately.

And since there’s no complains about Rowan’s Hand on his back they pull his shirt up further still, their other hand moving round to explore the exposed skin of his back. Warm fingers trail over his shoulders and across the small of his back, mapping out, enjoying the skin contact, as they nibble on his ear.

“Do I need to put a mark on it?” They ask, eyes flashing eagerly, unseen.

He breathes out, shutting his eyes again for a moment to luxuriate in the feel of warm hands on his back, skin on skin. That deliberate rocking motion is if anything even nicer, and he rolls his own hips upward to meet it.

And then that question goes right down his spine and sends heat zinging through him, and he gives a tiny laugh that's more a combination of startlement and arousal than real amusement.

"Would you like to?"

"You know I would." Rowan curves away from Edgar's ear to smirk at him this time, punctuating the words with yet another rock of their body against his. They can imagine it all too easily, leaving love bites on Edgar's thighs, and then perhaps also putting their mouth to something in between them... A shiver runs down their back and they close their eyes for a moment, hands pausing to ball into Edgar's back as arousal floods them.

But after a moment they return to their soft touches, eyes opening again, but smirk not fading. And since they've had to lean away to pull away to look at Edgar, there's now space for their hands to map round to his chest, starting low near his belly, but slowly trailing up. "Maybe lay claim to some other parts of you while I'm there."

"Sure," says Edgar, laughter and breathlessness underlying his voice. "Big red sign. No Trespassing, Property Of Rowan ..."

He trails off in a low hum of enjoyment, leaning into their hands.

"Just Rowan, or should there be more to that?"

Rowan laughs as well, light and easy as the touches with which they continue to explore Edgar's body under his shirt. "Sure, I think I still have a couple of stickers left over from yesterday. I took spares in case Max and Lucas got away. It's an exclusive club, you know."

They place a couple of kisses along Edgar's jaw, just playful, enjoying the contact. "My surname's Lewis? I just figure it ain't really useful here where a load of people don't even have one anyway." It's a shame they can't tell Edgar their deed name, they feel like he might appreciate it of all the people here - probably even more than Silent and Ren. But Rallies-Protests, Silent-Death and Rages-Against-The-Odds are all suspiciously similar for all their differences, and they don't want any more lines drawn between them than necessary.

"Fuck," and Edgar dissolves into sudden laughter, "I forgot about the fuckin stickers --"

He calms a little as Rowan keeps talking, and leans to return a few of those light kisses. "Makes sense, yeah. I haven't got one. Lewis, though, that's kind of pretty."

One of his hands slides down a little on Rowan's back, fingers curling lightly under the hem of their shirt. Seems likely they won't mind, but he'll wait for just a moment to see if there's any objection before he returns touch for touch.

That laughter has Rowan gazing at Edgar with a bright smile and easy affection. How have they been lucky enough to find another person who'll laugh with them in moments like this? They've said it before, and they'll say it again: anyone who can laugh during sex is twice as attractive as anyone else.

And he's a flatterer too, even though they had no choice in either of their names. "Prettier than the part of London it comes from." They chuckle. "Not that me part's that pretty, but it's mine, y'know?"

There's absolutely no objection to Edgar's exploring hands - instead Rowan shifts a little, grinding against him again, yes, but also moving off more of the long hem so he has more space. Their own hands have reached Edgar's abs, watching his reaction as they brush soft fingers lightly over them.

That encouraging motion is all he needs to slide both hands under Rowan's shirt and start exploring in turn up their back, palms and fingers smoothing over the skin, feeling the contours of muscle and bone underneath.

When Rowan's fingers brush his abs, he draws in a soft breath and lets his head fall back, eyes half-closing.

The skin on Rowan's back is as smooth as their hands, unblemished or marked. There's a surprising amount of muscle for such a slim frame: not one ounce of spare fat, but still covered enough to stop them from being too bony. They take a sharp breath as Edgar's hands explore, and a soft noise whenever he trails higher up, between his shoulders.

But they don't stop their own discoveries either, and with Edgar's head tipped back like that, they can't resist leaning in to kiss down his throat, placing an open mouthed kiss over the base of it, tasting his skin. Their hands wander further still, dancing over his pecs now, the pad of one thumb brushing over a nipple.

That area between the shoulderblades seems like it might be a sweet spot. Edgar flattens his palm against the skin there and rubs in a slow circle, then switches to fingernails, scratching gently.

At the kiss on his throat he exhales slowly, arching his back to lean up into it -- and then leaning harder, with a tiny grunt, when that thumb brushes his nipple. "Mmh ... yeah," he whispers, "do that again?"

Edgar’s hand on their back feels so good, but not as good as his fingernails gently scraping over Rowan’s skin. They shiver in his arms, a soft groan passing their lips as they eagerly give into Edgar’s wish. They circle his nipple before brushing over it again, this time with a touch more pressure - still a light touch, but less exploratory and more playful.

And then they lean back suddenly, hands dropping to the hem of Edgar’s shirt and halting there with it bunched up in their hands. “Can I?” They ask, clearly wanting to remove it, but holding back to ask permission first.

"Yeah," he breathes, smiling, and plucks at their own shirt. "Can I --?"

"Course!" Rowan noses against Edgar's cheek and kisses him there softly as they pull his shirt off first, pulling it off and tossing it to one side. When they sit back they trail their hand along his chest, admiring him as they do.

Then they raise their own arms to help Edgar remove their own shirt. Underneath they're just as slender as touch suggested, but there's a hint of a curve on their chest, a touch of softness on their otherwise firm form. They do watch him as they're revealed, though, hoping that he appreciates the unusual lines of their body, the feminine curve of their waist balanced out by the straight lines of their hips.

Edgar's been here long enough that his starvation-diet scrawniness has started to fill out a little, and all the old bruises have faded to yellow and the cuts to near-invisible lines. There's still next to no softness on him, all wiry muscle over bone.

And oh, he very much appreciates the much more pleasant sight Rowan presents. Yes, it's unusual, subtle curves turning into straighter lines, not a boy's body and not a girl's -- but the unexpectedness doesn't look wrong to him, it looks exactly right. If he had to explain the harmoniousness of it, he'd have to say something like: it fits with itself, is what, and with the person who lives in it. It's Rowan.

"Beautiful," he breathes, not quite meaning to, and runs a hand over Rowan's shoulder.

Edgar's flattery has Rowan fluttering their eyelashes, leaning into his hand in pleasure. There are many ways to their heart, but appreciating their body for what it is will get you far. Turning their head, they place a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of Edgar's hand.

"You're looking good too." They praise, running their hands up Edgar's chest again, this time following their progress. It's so good to see a bit of weight on his bones, when he first arrived Rowan would have been worried that there'd be nothing of him under his clothes. With that thought in mind, they lean forward to kiss his collar bone, tracing the length of it with their lips, and then grazing their teeth lightly over his shoulder.

"Mmmmm ..." He leans into that touch, flattening his hands against Rowan's back to pull them closer, sliding one up to cup the back of their neck.

Almost unconsciously, he grinds up against the warm, welcome weight of them on his lap.

Rowan answers with a groan and a roll of their own hips, rocking back against him eagerly. They love the sensation so much, Edgar's heat underneath them, his body exposed to their wandering hands - not to mention theirs to his. Tipping their head up again, they kiss him once more, nipping on his lip lightly as they slide their body along his lap again.

Edgar sinks into the kiss like he doesn't care if he ever comes up again, one hand sliding up into Rowan's hair, the other down to the small of their back to pull them closer still, skin against skin. Nothing else in the world feels this kind of good, not even here.

Rowan has to agree, there’s just something about the tactile sensation of being skin to skin, the intimacy of being able to feel every flutter of breath, each heartbeat almost. They’re more than happy to be held against Edgar and to fall into the kiss. But their hands don’t still, wandering distracted lines over his back again, working lower and lower, until their fingers encounter his waistband and trail along it, round his hip, until they’re forced to return back the way they came by their own body.

Eventually it's lack of air that makes Edgar draw back from the kiss and instead rest his forehead against Rowan's, eyes half closed, panting for breath. Luxuriating, for a little longer, in the feel of Rowan's hands on his back.

His own hands, very slowly, start wandering lower.

As Edgar's hands wander lower, Rowan's breath catches again, and they suck their stomach (what little there is of it) in as they breathe in deeply. It doesn't last for long, they don't enough air for that right now, but they wiggle in his lap again and push into him, trying to encourage them lower still.

And while they do lean against him for a moment, their breath warm on his cheek while they catch up as well, soon they're on the move again, their lips trailing over Edgar's cheek, and then over his ear, alternating soft kisses and little nips, determined to taste every part of him that they can reach.

It feels enough like a positive reaction that he doesn't slow or stop to ask, but reaches further down -- sliding over the waistband of Rowan's trousers, rather than trying to squeeze under it -- and cups both hands around their behind, squeezing gently.

"Mmmhm ..." He tilts his head to give Rowan's mouth better access to his ear, and perhaps his neck if that interests them.

Groaning as Edgar grabs their arse, Rowan lifts themself just enough to give him more space, rubbing themself against him again with the motion. And creating enough of a gap for their hands to ease between them, dancing over the top of his waistband, thumb flicking underneath it to stroke hidden skin.

They take the opportunity to kiss over his neck as well, right down to where it meets his shoulder, and then curving their back slightly to start to work their way further down, lips brushing over his collar bone, and then down from there.

Edgar exhales hard, like a silent moan, as Rowan grinds against him again; their mouth traveling down his neck to his chest makes him actually vocalize on the next breath, something between a moan and a hum of arousal.

He leans back, hands kneading their ass and then sliding down their thighs, to give them room to keep going.

Those noises only encourage Rowan further and they shift a bit further now his hands have moved so they can curve down even further. Despite the awkward position, they move easily, trailing across Edgar's body to kiss further down on the other side of him. One hand comes to rest on his hip, balancing themself there and holding him in place, and the other hand moves up to brush over one nipple, just as they reach the other with their lips. As they tease both, they glance up to see his response, to see if they should linger here longer or continue on their hungry journey down his body.

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