Reverse Jake: > Pounce boyfriend.

[fightingcargos]

[You never thought you would be the kind of fella who would stand idly by while someone beat the crap out of your heart's darling. Turns out, you're not! You're the kind of fella who beats the crap out of said darling himself.]

[You leap into Dirk's personal space, guns ablaze, and attempt to make up for his superior speed with your superior firepower.]

Take THAT you studmuffin!!

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[fightingcargos]

[Jesus. Okay, you refuse to be distracted--you run a thumb along his hipbone and bring one hand to his jaw, fingers curling around to touch his hair and tilt his face just so.]

[You are going to WIN THIS MAKEOUT.]

[sickheartbeats]

[You dedicate a full minute to sucking and nipping at his tongue before you decide to really up the ante; incidentally, also to show him you're fairly unconcerned with a little roughness. You break the kiss for long enough to make sure you won't knock teeth as you push yourself off the wall and steer him against it.]

[fightingcargos]

Oof!
Oh you pushy bastard.

[You bring your mouths back together with a bit more force than you originally intended. It's getting harder--uh, more difficult--to keep to the boundaries you set.]

[sickheartbeats]

[In favor of replying you chuckle against his mouth and apply the edge of your teeth since the smug nature of your expression makes it hard to manage a proper kiss, anyway. Your hands, however, take no issue with roam down his sides, pressing just firmly enough not to tickle his ribs.]

[fightingcargos]

[Your hand flexes on his hip, again, and you pray to every god available that you don't give in and go for the gold too soon.]

[To distract yourself, you nip him back, harder this time due to his CHEEKY BUSINESS with the smirk and chuckle.]

[sickheartbeats]

[You can feel his hand, of course. You have dedicated a not insignificant amount of your thoughts to his obvious attraction to you, before. On a technical level, you understand that HE WOULD TAP THAT. On a less technical level, you even understand that he's capable of making you feel pretty damn hot under the collar.

The rest is, unfortunately, up for freestyling. You can only predict so much.]

Dirk: > Pull back for air.

[fightingcargos]

[Dirk left his neck unguarded, the fool. You bring your attentions there, launching a full assault on the spots you have memorized as his favorites.]

[sickheartbeats]

[You slide your fingers into his hair and card, almost tug in retort, even if you let you head tilt back and don't try for even a minute to feign objection. Instead you let your breath puff past his ear.]

[fightingcargos]

[You try to use the wall at your back as leverage, bending your knees to solidify your stance, refusing to give Dirk even an inch more ground than he's already won. You suck just above his pulse, brushing your nose against his skin and breathing in the smell of his sweat and the soil and chlorophyll of the forest.]

[sickheartbeats]

[You're not sure whether you're making an actual offer or proving a point, but you end up pressing your thigh into his, pinning him to the wall more actively, upper hand pending.]

[fightingcargos]

Oh...

[You swallow, trying to catch your breath through your nose so you can still scrape your teeth along the shell of his ear. You end up getting a little light-headed--more so than you already were, even--and bring your free hand to one of his own. You grip it, circling one of his knuckles with your thumb, and try to focus on the feel of his hand in yours instead of whatever his legs are going. You learned long ago that Dirk's legs are your kryptonite. You hope he doesn't take this information and use it for SEXY, SEXY EVIL.]

[sickheartbeats]

[You're not heartless enough not to provide a squeeze of your hand, even while you feel the strong desire to get him back for making you shudder -- sensitive ears be damned. In a stroke of cloudy-minded genius, you let your leg slide along his -- outside of the thigh, you're not cruel, just an ass.]

[fightingcargos]

[You clamp your mouth shut, but don't manage to entirely stifle the whimper you just made. This is so stupid, legs aren't even erogenous zones! What is wrong with you??]

[sickheartbeats]

You alright, champ?

[fightingcargos]

Jake: > Bite him on the neck.

[Take THAT, stupid sexy Strider!!!]

[sickheartbeats]

Ah--haha.
You perfect certifiable dick.

[fightingcargos]

Are we pot kettling again?
You are the pot this time i happily note.

[sickheartbeats]

Shut up and kiss me, douchekettle.

[fightingcargos]

[Hearing that in his voice give you a little shiver, but you focus on the task at hand. Your truest love just asked you to kiss him, and you will damn well deliver to the best of your ability!]

[You bring your mouth to his, sliding your lips together in a way that you hope feels at least half as good to him as it does to you.]

[sickheartbeats]

[Judging by the almost relieved little sigh you provide him with, your frethappy boyfriend has nothing to worry about. You slide your fingers through his hair in a manner that is slightly more friendly than before, but your leg still flexes against his on occasion, an equally friendly reminder.]

[fightingcargos]

[With every nudge of his thigh on yours, you pull back the slightest bit from the kiss, flexing your toes in an attempt to keep blood flow going to your extremities instead of where it is currently pooling. Maybe if he excused you for a bit of cardio, or a bit of privacy, you could continue treating him with the gentlemanly conduct he deserves. As it is, you just continue to hope you don't move things a little too fast and furiously.]

[The idea that he couldn't take it doesn't cross your mind. You are the one who couldn't take it, probably.]

[sickheartbeats]

[You catch your less-than-level breath against the corner of his mouth before your fingers move along his jaw, tilt it to your liking, and your mouth slides across the hollow dip below his ear. You're blissfully aware of him and the fact that this goes a bit beyond necking, and pleased with the fact that you personally aren't freaked out.

You'll consult his open book of a face about the matter as soon as you've worked over the reddening spot under your teeth, too.]

[fightingcargos]

Oh, smeg.

[sickheartbeats]

[You nuzzle his hair out of the way with your nose and drag the flat of your tongue up behind his ear, warm and damp breath included, feeling your stomach clench at his vocalization.]

[fightingcargos]

[Your hand squeezes his again, your palm grows damp on his hip, and you attempt just hanging on instead of actively participating, for a moment.]