Got it, is the nod of her head as she keeps up the steady pressure of her lips dragging over his shoulders. "Don't touch the cut from my real arm, gives me weird phantom pains in a not-fun way." Less the stab-hot quick feeling of landing blows, but that nauseous headache the last time she had to take off the metal arm.
But not now, not now. Now what mattered more was threading her good fingers tightly in his hair to tilt his face up to kiss him again, rocking into his lap, grinding head against the rough material of his pants up between her thighs in that little bit enough fraction to make her groan against his lips. That building heat that burns tightly, turning her all slippery-quick. If she's aware that she's quick, easy as far as a fuck goes, she's never had a conversation about it that mattered particularly to her. Because why the hell should she care when there's a hot guy that gets her this wet, this fast and is interested in touching her back?
So no touching his legs? Worked just fine for her. Her metal fingers begin to tug the laces of his pants undone, maintaining just enough patience not to rip them apart entirely. Because oh, fuck, it's been ages since she had someone remotely interesting enough to make her want to do something else but fight. With just enough forethought to move her metal fingers away and swap with her real ones as she finally gets into his pants. If his bones like his legs are fragile, God forbid anywhere else far softer. But her palm is warm as she slides it into his clothes.
No underwear? Neat. Suits her just fine as her lithes fingers curl around his cock with a happy little sigh as she finds him growing hard. The blood trickled further down, now, over her chest, down her arms. The heat of their bodies keeping it smooth. His fingers leaving bloody handprints on the skin where the sun hadn't tanned starkly bright.
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But not now, not now. Now what mattered more was threading her good fingers tightly in his hair to tilt his face up to kiss him again, rocking into his lap, grinding head against the rough material of his pants up between her thighs in that little bit enough fraction to make her groan against his lips. That building heat that burns tightly, turning her all slippery-quick. If she's aware that she's quick, easy as far as a fuck goes, she's never had a conversation about it that mattered particularly to her. Because why the hell should she care when there's a hot guy that gets her this wet, this fast and is interested in touching her back?
So no touching his legs? Worked just fine for her. Her metal fingers begin to tug the laces of his pants undone, maintaining just enough patience not to rip them apart entirely. Because oh, fuck, it's been ages since she had someone remotely interesting enough to make her want to do something else but fight. With just enough forethought to move her metal fingers away and swap with her real ones as she finally gets into his pants. If his bones like his legs are fragile, God forbid anywhere else far softer. But her palm is warm as she slides it into his clothes.
No underwear? Neat. Suits her just fine as her lithes fingers curl around his cock with a happy little sigh as she finds him growing hard. The blood trickled further down, now, over her chest, down her arms. The heat of their bodies keeping it smooth. His fingers leaving bloody handprints on the skin where the sun hadn't tanned starkly bright.