She will never tire of what it feels like to kiss without any barrier, to feel the texture and taste of him, the softness of his lips paired with the slightly rough tickle of his whiskers. It's why she still tended to steal kisses when she could, even when robbing others of powers and life force. To be able to kiss without that flood of emotions and memories? It's downright intoxicating. It's one of the reasons she'd found giving up the necklace so difficult. She kisses him like she wants to consume and savor him at the same time, pressing into him while dragging it out as long as she could. Who needed to breathe, anyway?
Her on hands don't stay still either, tracing over his jaw and following his facial hair into the longer snowy locks, moaning softly at the feel of that too. Before now she could only carefully touch ends of locks, but now she can card her fingers without abandon, and grip it to also keep him close. Anything to keep him near.
She finds herself shuddering with the heat of his hands pressing against more skin, trailing along her spine sending fire over the whole of her that pools between her thighs. All the while, Rogue tries to memorize the texture of his hands, the callouses and the proper heat of him. Rocking against him, she adjusts herself so that she's adding friction against herself as well. As much as she wants to slow down and eat him up nice and languid, there's a boiling sense of desire in her that wants more of him.
"Ah," she breathes, brow furrowing as she tilts her head to the side to offer him more room to maneuver, more skin to taste finally. "Don't know." And she's momentarily worried, but it's a drop in the ocean of other, more pressing and enjoyable feelings. Hands trail down him to find the hem of his shirt to start tugging that up and over his head. "But it means you're overdressed."
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Her on hands don't stay still either, tracing over his jaw and following his facial hair into the longer snowy locks, moaning softly at the feel of that too. Before now she could only carefully touch ends of locks, but now she can card her fingers without abandon, and grip it to also keep him close. Anything to keep him near.
She finds herself shuddering with the heat of his hands pressing against more skin, trailing along her spine sending fire over the whole of her that pools between her thighs. All the while, Rogue tries to memorize the texture of his hands, the callouses and the proper heat of him. Rocking against him, she adjusts herself so that she's adding friction against herself as well. As much as she wants to slow down and eat him up nice and languid, there's a boiling sense of desire in her that wants more of him.
"Ah," she breathes, brow furrowing as she tilts her head to the side to offer him more room to maneuver, more skin to taste finally. "Don't know." And she's momentarily worried, but it's a drop in the ocean of other, more pressing and enjoyable feelings. Hands trail down him to find the hem of his shirt to start tugging that up and over his head. "But it means you're overdressed."