Summer settles back against his warmth, head tilted back against his shoulder. “Relax. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just sit here, just be together.” Is Percival a /virgin/? It seems odd, but then she doesn’t know very much of how he came to be a knight, at Camelot. Arthur’s knights are a much more motley assortment than Uther’s knights ever were.
“You can do whatever you like, and if I don’t like it I’ll tell you.” She shifts, a little, so if she reaches forward just a little more, she can kiss his throat.
Percival responds in kind, kissing her right behind the ear. He reaches down to play with the fabric of her skirt. He mumbles quietly, “This is a really pretty colour on you.” Before long, his knuckles and the back of his fingers replace his fingertips on her thighs, and the palms of his hands. He kisses her again, at the bottom of her neck, almost to the shoulder. He leaves his lips there for a bit and inhales deeply, hands still moving on her thighs.
When his mouth lands behind her ear, she shudders hard. She’s never been able to control her reactions to that spot; it’s /so/ sensitive. Instant turn-on. But his hands are sliding up and down her leg over her skirts, and he’s still kissing her bare skin, which brings desire in a quieter way, at least until he breathes in, which tickles. Summer giggles, and once she’s started she can’t stop.
She takes a step back, takes a deep breath. There’s a chair, and a table, and she grabs the chair and turns it, then grabs his shoulders and maneuvers him into it.
“There,” she mutters. “Now I’m not breaking my neck.” Then she sits down on his knee and pulls his arm around her waist. “Don’t talk,” she whispers. “Just do.”
Summer settles back against his warmth, head tilted back against his shoulder. “Relax. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just sit here, just be together.” Is Percival a /virgin/? It seems odd, but then she doesn’t know very much of how he came to be a knight, at Camelot. Arthur’s knights are a much more motley assortment than Uther’s knights ever were.
“You can do whatever you like, and if I don’t like it I’ll tell you.” She shifts, a little, so if she reaches forward just a little more, she can kiss his throat.
“You’re doing pretty good so far,” Summer points out. Oh god, they’re pressed right up together, and one of the best things about being female is that he cannot tell how much she /wants/ right now. Her hands tremble just a little. It’s one thing to tease him, but they’re beyond teasing now. “Tell me what you want?”
Percival froze briefly. “I-” He blushed. “I’ve never really talked about… beyond innuendo-” His brow furrowed, his blush spread to his ears. Well, it didn’t take long to fluster me, did it?
She takes a step back, takes a deep breath. There’s a chair, and a table, and she grabs the chair and turns it, then grabs his shoulders and maneuovres him into it.
“There,” she mutters. “Now I’m not breaking my neck.” Then she sits down on his knee and pulls his arm around her waist. “Don’t talk,” she whispers. “Just do.”
She blushes even harder. “I said I didn’t want to force you. And I don’t. I want it to be because you want to, not because I asked.”
Percival takes a step closer. “…I’ve never been an excellent communicator, have I?”
“You’re doing pretty good so far,” Summer points out. Oh god, they’re pressed right up together, and one of the best things about being female is that he cannot tell how much she /wants/ right now. Her hands tremble just a little. It’s one thing to tease him, but they’re beyond teasing now. “Tell me what you want?”
You don’t need to worry about replying to me anymore. I know you would rather be replying to other people, and when I turn up in your askbox it’s just annoying. There’s always someone else you would rather be writing with than me. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I make you lose your muse. I won’t be bothering you anymore.
She cannot help laughing with him; he’s so happy, and that makes her happy. His reminder makes her blush again, and squirm. “I’m getting some fantasies … “
“Oho! As if you didn’t have any in the first place.” Percival grins.
She blushes even harder. “I said I didn’t want to force you. And I don’t. I want it to be because you want to, not because I asked.”
His breath beside her throat makes her shiver. He’s not one of those knights whose very voice turns women weak (Mordred, Gwaine), but to have him speak right in her ear like that sends crinkles down her spine. “You’re welcome,” she starts, and then he’s kissing her again, and she gets her arms around his neck and hangs on. For her first kisses, she hopes she’s doing okay.
Percival squeezes her around the waist, picks her up and spins her around. After setting her down, he laughs a bright, joyful laugh. Taking her face in his hands, he kisses her again. “Just so you know, the whole ‘fantasy coupon’ thing isn’t going to expire for quite some time.”
She cannot help laughing with him; he’s so happy, and that makes her happy. His reminder makes her blush again, and squirm. “I’m getting some fantasies … “
