He leans up, in one sudden movement, to pull her into a proper kiss. One with his hands tangling into her dark curls and his tongue moving against hers and their lips clashing in the most interesting of ways.
…And their noses bump.
But she doesn’t seem to care, as she wraps her arms fully around his neck and purrs into the kiss with all her hot flesh flush against him.
And things, thankfully, move rather quickly from there.
Her bra is a little bit tricky, for bras have always been tricky, but eventually he just about manages to undo it and tugs it roughly down her shoulders. He’s seen most of Chris’ breasts before, of course (the risks of being best friends, and now apparently shagging, a terminal exhibitionist), but he’s blocked out her nipples and so takes a moment to reacquaint himself – sucking them into his mouth and lapping his tongue over the steadily firming flesh.
Chris, to his surprise, does manage at least one whine above him.
…But then that is choked off by a rough grunt and a swear word and the sink of teeth into that sensitive place just under his jaw. And he supposes that he’ll have to set aside the surprise in favour of a whimper of his own and a swift buck of his hips.
Her skirt is soon removed by careful shuffling and remarkably sensible usage of her knees, her underwear soon follows and lands on the pile now messily upon the floor.
…Naked and reasonably lovely in his lap, he just has to mouth at her breast for another moment as his hands spread supportively across her naked ribs.
But soon she is shoving him back, and that really shouldn’t excite him in the slightest bit (oh God, he would choose this moment to become kinky), and diving in between them for his belt and then his zip in quick order, and slowly starting to shove his jeans down his legs…
“Wait,” she huffs, just as she’s gotten them down far enough for actual things to become feasible.
“What?” He pants, achingly hard and able to hold himself back only by the skin of his teeth and the internalized control that he’s had within him ever since the day he made the mysterious decision to marry Judith and impregnate her a few years later.
Speaking of impregnating… “Condoms.”
He blinks up at her. Filled for one long, stunned moment with the image of the terrifying child that he and Chris would produce together: with the brains of Marcus, the helpless anger of Chris, the desires of a dalek and… His build, he supposes, for the kid will probably be forced to accept something of his.
“Tim,” Chris says impatiently above him, snapping him from nightmares of the antichrist, “condoms.”
“…In the kitchen.”
She rises from his lap strongly, quickly-! …Slumps back down at a fair speed, frowning at him instead of actually doing anything that could be counted as mildly useful, “you keep your condoms in the kitchen?”
It is such a Chris-like sort of question that he just has to stare at her for a moment, narrowly resisting the urge to just lift his hand and slam it hard against his skull, “celibate for over two years.”
“Fair point,” she’s still not moving, even if it is a fair point – and he’s very much doubting the fairness of it as a point, “Will they still work?”
…Very, very much, “I buy new condoms every month, alright?”
“You buy new condoms every month despite not having had a shag in over two years?”
…Very, very, very much, “Chris.”
And she shrugs (for that makes it better)-
…And finally clambers off his knees, heading nakedly towards the kitchen (and he looks at her for several long moments, he must admit, because it’s hard not to when a woman such as Chris is naked and walking around right in front of you) at a sped that almost makes up for all the mocking that she’ll put him through later.
As does the speed of her return.
And the speed of her delicate settle upon his lap.
And the speed of her: as she rolls the condom on with practiced fingers, positions her hips in exactly the right way and sinks onto him. A long, hot, tight thrust that leaves him gasping at the sensation and her laughing breathlessly at his face.
UNPROMPTED: One Saturday Afternoon, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [5/6] [Spy]
…And their noses bump.
But she doesn’t seem to care, as she wraps her arms fully around his neck and purrs into the kiss with all her hot flesh flush against him.
And things, thankfully, move rather quickly from there.
Her bra is a little bit tricky, for bras have always been tricky, but eventually he just about manages to undo it and tugs it roughly down her shoulders. He’s seen most of Chris’ breasts before, of course (the risks of being best friends, and now apparently shagging, a terminal exhibitionist), but he’s blocked out her nipples and so takes a moment to reacquaint himself – sucking them into his mouth and lapping his tongue over the steadily firming flesh.
Chris, to his surprise, does manage at least one whine above him.
…But then that is choked off by a rough grunt and a swear word and the sink of teeth into that sensitive place just under his jaw. And he supposes that he’ll have to set aside the surprise in favour of a whimper of his own and a swift buck of his hips.
Her skirt is soon removed by careful shuffling and remarkably sensible usage of her knees, her underwear soon follows and lands on the pile now messily upon the floor.
…Naked and reasonably lovely in his lap, he just has to mouth at her breast for another moment as his hands spread supportively across her naked ribs.
But soon she is shoving him back, and that really shouldn’t excite him in the slightest bit (oh God, he would choose this moment to become kinky), and diving in between them for his belt and then his zip in quick order, and slowly starting to shove his jeans down his legs…
“Wait,” she huffs, just as she’s gotten them down far enough for actual things to become feasible.
“What?” He pants, achingly hard and able to hold himself back only by the skin of his teeth and the internalized control that he’s had within him ever since the day he made the mysterious decision to marry Judith and impregnate her a few years later.
Speaking of impregnating… “Condoms.”
He blinks up at her. Filled for one long, stunned moment with the image of the terrifying child that he and Chris would produce together: with the brains of Marcus, the helpless anger of Chris, the desires of a dalek and… His build, he supposes, for the kid will probably be forced to accept something of his.
“Tim,” Chris says impatiently above him, snapping him from nightmares of the antichrist, “condoms.”
“…In the kitchen.”
She rises from his lap strongly, quickly-! …Slumps back down at a fair speed, frowning at him instead of actually doing anything that could be counted as mildly useful, “you keep your condoms in the kitchen?”
It is such a Chris-like sort of question that he just has to stare at her for a moment, narrowly resisting the urge to just lift his hand and slam it hard against his skull, “celibate for over two years.”
“Fair point,” she’s still not moving, even if it is a fair point – and he’s very much doubting the fairness of it as a point, “Will they still work?”
…Very, very much, “I buy new condoms every month, alright?”
“You buy new condoms every month despite not having had a shag in over two years?”
…Very, very, very much, “Chris.”
And she shrugs (for that makes it better)-
…And finally clambers off his knees, heading nakedly towards the kitchen (and he looks at her for several long moments, he must admit, because it’s hard not to when a woman such as Chris is naked and walking around right in front of you) at a sped that almost makes up for all the mocking that she’ll put him through later.
As does the speed of her return.
And the speed of her delicate settle upon his lap.
And the speed of her: as she rolls the condom on with practiced fingers, positions her hips in exactly the right way and sinks onto him. A long, hot, tight thrust that leaves him gasping at the sensation and her laughing breathlessly at his face.