"Whatever you want to do, Gipsy," he assures her, his hands strong and steady on her as he inches her back until her knees hit the mattress and she sits down. Instead of joining her on the bed, Hercules kneels down in front of her and sets to untying her shoelaces, sliding her boots off and carefully setting them aside.
There's heat in her face as she watches him take her boots off for her. Everything seems so...intimate already, because from what she's seen of them, this is not something that most humans do for one another.
"I want to." The sentence is rushed and she can feel her face getting warm again. "I'm...inexperienced, though." She's 'learned' though his memories, but there's something to be said about doing this first hand.
He looks up at her and the smile on his face should speak volumes about just what he feels for her.
"I wouldn't kick you out of bed for the world," he assures her, picking up her hand and kissing the palm. "And if your inexperience bothers you, well..."
It does, and it sends a wave of affection crashing over her that's entirely different from the heat that's settled in her belly. Trust him to make her smile, even at a moment like this.
"You are quite the man, Hercules Hansen." And she adores him for it. So much. Her features settle into a determined expression; even if she's inexperienced and relatively clueless, she wants to do this.
"I want you. Right now. Will you show me what it's like to be part of you outside the Drift?"
He surges up from his position on the ground and kisses her, getting his feet under himself and slowly pushing her back down onto the bed, following as soon as he's toed out of his shoes. Some brief maneuvering later, and he's got her up against his pillows, her hair spilling darkly across the stark white cotton, and his hands are under her shirt.
It slowly gets peeled off her as he kisses her, trying both to distract her and to rile her up so whatever nerves she's feeling get subsumed by other, more interesting feelings.
She's incredibly nervous because the last thing she wants is to be bad at this. While Gipsy isn't used to being the best Jaeger (Striker would have argued that he was the best), she was always a heavy hitter and she'd never lost -- not even on the day she'd died. She considers the battle a success, even if people died that didn't have to.
So to be in a position like this; vulnerable and exposed and entirely human, open and subject to judgement -- is nerve wracking. She doesn't want to fail, and she damn sure doesn't want to leave him disappointed.
He's careful with her, though, and Gipsy can tell that he's trying to soothe her rattled mind and if she's to be honest with herself, it's working. Her jitters morph into a different kind of nerve-tingling sensation, and she's eagerly reaching to get her hands on him and simply touch whatever is available and exposed to her. Face, arms, chest -- curious hands travel and pick at clothing, frowning at the damn buttons but quickly losing her frustration the moment her shirt is peeled off and tossed to the side.
Hercules seems far less interested in taking off his own clothes, focusing instead on what she's wearing and how she should be doing less of that.
She could never disappoint him. Not like this. Helping her learn how her new body functions and responds will be an exciting adventure and he's looking forward to them learning together.
She's left lying in a perfectly serviceable sports bra, her skin pale and milky and utterly unblemished, and Hercules has a brief moment of ridiculous nerves, anxiety over the fact that his body is quite heavily marked up by this point in his life: his Air Force tattoo on one arm, freckles across his chest, countless scars littering his skin from one scrape or another. But then he remembers that he's really the only man Gipsy has ever been interested in which means she has nobody to compare him to, and he forces himself to stop thinking about it.
His lips abandon hers to trail down the smooth column of her neck, nibbling along the sweep of her clavicles, his fingers stroking the skin just below the band of her bra nice and slow.
Gipsy should really stop comparing this to battle. It's really not very similar at all. Wins and losses and jaegers and kaiju -- nothing even remotely close to the way his hands feel on her skin and the way he's looking at her. Unfortunately, she's doesn't have a lot to relate the experience to besides that, so it is what it is. As they do this more (and oh, does she want to), she'll have more of a frame of reference.
She sighs and adjusts under him, just a little, hips lifting to press up before settling back down. She's bared and while she's certain that he's very enthralled in her wearing considerably less clothing, Gipsy would really feel better if they were a matched set in that. It's only fair, right?
"These...are infuriating." She mumbles, hands picking at the buttons on his shirt. She's glad she's only got the one, just there on her standard issue pants.
He plans to do this as often as possible. Gipsy is stunningly beautiful, and if this furthers the stereotype of a middle-aged man going after a pretty young thing, well, Hercules doesn't care. He's pretty sure most middle-aged men don't fall for behemoth-sized robots, even if they are beautiful young women in their heads.
He's far too distracted by the taste of her synthetic skin beneath his lips to care about his shirt, which is why he just hums distractedly when she gripes about the buttons that are thwarting her. Herc's a little busy with sliding his fingers under the band of her bra and carefully peeling it up and off.
Just as he anticipated, her skin is flawless, her body a perfect representation of a beautiful woman. It's almost infuriating. Except that he gets to enjoy it, so really...
His hand fits perfectly against her breast like they were made for each other, the perfect skin soft and silky smooth beneath his fingers, and Herc has to muffle a quiet noise against her neck as he presses wet, open-mouthed kisses there, a little overwhelmed by the fact that this is all real, it's all happening in real life. He really has her here, spread out on his bed, this is really her body that's responding so eagerly to his, those are really her hands roving across his shoulders.
It feels a little like a dream to her -- when you self destruct at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, you don't really expect to ever see the person you've fallen in love with again. Especially when they're human and you're the size of a sky scraper.
She gives up on those infernal buttons for now because he's busy removing more of her clothing and really bares her before him. She's nervous all over again and there's a twist of apprehension in her gut that's quickly extinguished by the noise he makes and the immediateness that his hands find her skin once more. It's reassuring, and it feels amazing. It sends what's not becoming a familiar rush through her and has her fidgeting beneath him, just a little.
It reminds her of when she'd lived through that memory through him, but this time she can pinpoint the ache she'd felt now that she's experiencing it for herself.
Lifting a trembling hand, Gipsy carefully rests a protective hand on the back of his head, fingers tracing over his hair as she bites on her lower lip, a little groan bubbling in her chest. My pilot. Mine.
She groans, her hand finding his hair, and that's it— he's done. How is he supposed to resist her when she makes wondering little noises like that?
He can't.
His lips travel down south, trailing wet little kisses across the swell of her breast, his stubble raising a hectic pink flush over her pale skin. He has to admit, he rather likes that. What he likes even more, though, is how quickly her nipples pebble when he brushes his lips over those instead, the way her body squirms beneath his when he teases the rosy skin with his tongue.
She's perfect. There's absolutely nothing about her that he would change.
This is like sensory overload for her; every part of her is on fire and sensitized. She feels everything in this moment – every puff of air that escapes his lips, every scrape of his stubble against pale white skin, every hot, wet kiss that his mouth drops on her skin during his trek south.
…She’d worried, at first, what the hell she was supposed to do with her hands. Now it just seems to come naturally. Her nails trace over his scalp and she sucks in a gasp, skin tightening with every swipe of his tongue.
Maybe this wouldn’t be as awkward as she’d initially thought. It helps that she’d porn surfed his brain before, too.
He may be too old to leave hickeys on her neck, but Hercules is in no way too old to leave hickeys across her chest and stomach. Those will be covered by her clothes, so it's more than okay.
He worries a perfect strawberry-shaped bruise on the underside of her breast, looking very pleased with himself when he pulls back a little to survey his handiwork, taking a moment to puff a stream of cool air across the saliva cooling on her skin just to watch it tighten and goosebumps crawl across her chest and arms.
He's not disappointed.
"You're prefect," he murmurs, echoing his previous thoughts on the matter, ducking back down almost immediately to pay attention to her other breast now. Don't want anyone to feel left out.
He's very thorough, Gipsy will give him that. When he pulls back to examine what he's done, she's trembling and shivering and giving him a particularly wild-eyed look that conveys just how much she's struggling to keep control and not flip him on his back and tear all of his clothes off.
"Only--" She has to take a deep, ragged breath, head tipping back when he goes back down, "only when I'm with you." They complete each other, they fit each other.
He proves it when his mouth fits perfectly back over her opposite breast, and she murmurs his name, three syllables rolling off her tongue in a shuddered sigh.
Maybe it's practice, or maybe it's just that he's not the one being worked over at the moment, but Hercules manages to undo her very sensible trousers as he drags his mouth over her body, leaving behind a trail of hickeys because he just can't help himself. It's not his fault she's so delicious, okay.
He only takes a break to tug them down and off her legs, tossing them to land somewhere on the floor, he doesn't really care right now.
Right now he's got other things to focus on, like her long, smooth legs. Suspiciously smooth, like Tendo didn't bother putting hair follicles into her skin. Not like Hercules minds, of course, especially not when she moans his name, effectively derailing whatever thoughts he may have been trying to articulate.
He gives up on contemplating just what Tendo was thinking when he helped make Gipsy's body, and focuses instead on appreciating said body, starting with scooting down the bed so he can stroke and kiss her legs instead.
Her pants land somewhere in the nebulous region that constitutes 'off the bed', and Gipsy is left there in...well. Nothing, really.
And you know what?
This is so unfair. He's got her entirely naked now, and the favor hasn't been returned yet. Honestly, Hercules -- Gipsy will only be able to endure so much attention lavished on her body for so long. She's been aching for so long to please him and now that she's got the opportunity, he's switched things up.
Hard to complain when he's all over her, though, and especially even more so now that he's out of reach.
"Hercules," she pushes herself up to prop on her elbows, eyes focused on him, and hands gripping at the sheets on his bed. "You...are driving me crazy."
He only realizes after he's started to work his way up her legs that shes...not wearing underwear. He doubts that's a conscious decision on her part, and there's a part of him that's more than a little furious that Tendo thought to get her a bra but not panties. But that part can be dealt with later, because she's complaining about how he's not letting her touch him.
"I know, love." He's utterly unrepentant. "That's the idea."
He winks at her before attaching his lips to her inner thigh, sucking a hickey into the soft skin as he coaxes her to spread her legs for him so he can settle down comfortably between them.
He gets another sharp gasp at that -- sneaky devil -- but she settles her legs around his hips, giving him a tight squeeze and a look. That look, one she's given him on multiple occasions but this time it's backed by her want as well as unyielding affection.
"Come here," she says, and reaches to grasp hold of his shirt and jerk him close to her, tongue swiping over his lower lip before her mouth crushes against his.
He might have to look into a new shirt, because if Gipsy can't get these goddamn buttons undone it's going to just get ripped off.
She hauls him back up to her mouth and he groans a little, disappointed but also not, because how could he be disappointed when he gets to kiss her like that?
"Gipsy, darling, you spoil my fun," he teases, nipping at her lip when she smashes their mouths together.
Her fingers still can't quite figure out his buttons and so he takes pity on her and undoes them himself, shrugging out his shirt and flinging it onto the floor in much the same manner as he took care of her pants. That still leaves him in his undershirt, though, but at least it's progress of a sort.
It is progress. At least now they're getting closer to being more equal in terms of clothing. Everything else...eh, that's still debatable.
"...Do I?" She hesitates for a moment before reaching to tug at the hem of his undershirt, pulling at it so that she can slip her hands beneath it and smooth her palms over his skin.
"There's quite a lot I plan on doing to you, love, but it can wait a moment."
Because her slim, deceptively strong hands feel so nice against his skin. He reaches behind himself and hauls his shirt off, tossing it away on the floor as well, leaving him clad now in just his trousers. Those can be dealt with later, though, because he wants to kiss her now, wants to frame her face in his hands and press his chest to hers, feel her synthetic heart beat against her ribs.
A smile blossoms across her features, though it's quickly covered once more with his mouth. This is precisely what she wanted -- skin to skin, ultimate contact. In many ways, this is as intimate (if not more so) as the Drift could be; she knew everything there, felt everything and saw everything and this...this is equally intimate, just in different ways. It's real as opposed to being confined to their linked minds, and it's two bared bodies pressed hotly against one another, hers and his - like they should be.
There's a certain excitement about this, too. Since she can't read his thoughts, she only has reactions, words, and expressions to go on. It's like a riddle to be solved, one that she has to examine and inspect at all angles before she can really find the answer, the bigger picture.
Gipsy's synthetic heart slams against her ribcage, a frantic rhythm that doesn't give any indication that it's going to ease up. Her arms go around him and she holds him close, pressing him against her as she molds her mouth to his.
For all that Hercules wants to just rip his clothes off (since hers are already dealt with) and just lose himself in her body, this is still Gipsy's first time, and he's determined to make it memorable.
So he holds himself in check, just covers her body with his and kisses her slowly and thoroughly, mapping out her mouth like there will be a test later, one arm curling around her head, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair as the other hand strokes over her body. His hips nudge against hers in a shallow rocking rhythm, his one concession to the need that's coiling in his belly.
He can wait. He can.
He wants to take Gipsy apart first, make him tremble and wail and learn that there is so much good to these fragile human bodies.
She could almost cry with the care that he extends to her; she can sort of tell that that's what he's doing - make it memorable - and as much as she'd like to go wild...moving slow like this is probably best. It's torture, though -- especially when his hips press against her and send another shiver through her body. She shifts under him and releases the hold her legs had on his hips, allowing her feet to settle against the mattress below her.
Alright, alright. Time to relax, and let him take control. Mostly. There's still an impatient streak that Gipsy has always nursed, though instant gratification isn't what she wants right now. She wants slow and long and loving and tender and passion-filled.
So, she can wait, too.
"Sorry," she breathes, trembling a little and cupping the back of his head. "Just -- eager."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2013-07-20 06:03 pm (UTC)Much, much later.
"No...no, it isn't." Nothing about waiting seems appealing right now, and she moves with him eagerly, palms flat on his chest. "Can we--?"
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Date: 2013-07-20 06:05 pm (UTC)"I don't want to rush you."
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Date: 2013-07-20 06:09 pm (UTC)"I want to." The sentence is rushed and she can feel her face getting warm again. "I'm...inexperienced, though." She's 'learned' though his memories, but there's something to be said about doing this first hand.
"Is that alright?"
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Date: 2013-07-20 06:11 pm (UTC)"I wouldn't kick you out of bed for the world," he assures her, picking up her hand and kissing the palm. "And if your inexperience bothers you, well..."
Time for a little wink. "We can always fix that."
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Date: 2013-07-20 06:16 pm (UTC)"You are quite the man, Hercules Hansen." And she adores him for it. So much. Her features settle into a determined expression; even if she's inexperienced and relatively clueless, she wants to do this.
"I want you. Right now. Will you show me what it's like to be part of you outside the Drift?"
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Date: 2013-07-20 06:20 pm (UTC)"Whatever you want, Gipsy Danger."
He surges up from his position on the ground and kisses her, getting his feet under himself and slowly pushing her back down onto the bed, following as soon as he's toed out of his shoes. Some brief maneuvering later, and he's got her up against his pillows, her hair spilling darkly across the stark white cotton, and his hands are under her shirt.
It slowly gets peeled off her as he kisses her, trying both to distract her and to rile her up so whatever nerves she's feeling get subsumed by other, more interesting feelings.
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Date: 2013-07-20 06:29 pm (UTC)So to be in a position like this; vulnerable and exposed and entirely human, open and subject to judgement -- is nerve wracking. She doesn't want to fail, and she damn sure doesn't want to leave him disappointed.
He's careful with her, though, and Gipsy can tell that he's trying to soothe her rattled mind and if she's to be honest with herself, it's working. Her jitters morph into a different kind of nerve-tingling sensation, and she's eagerly reaching to get her hands on him and simply touch whatever is available and exposed to her. Face, arms, chest -- curious hands travel and pick at clothing, frowning at the damn buttons but quickly losing her frustration the moment her shirt is peeled off and tossed to the side.
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Date: 2013-07-20 06:47 pm (UTC)She could never disappoint him. Not like this. Helping her learn how her new body functions and responds will be an exciting adventure and he's looking forward to them learning together.
She's left lying in a perfectly serviceable sports bra, her skin pale and milky and utterly unblemished, and Hercules has a brief moment of ridiculous nerves, anxiety over the fact that his body is quite heavily marked up by this point in his life: his Air Force tattoo on one arm, freckles across his chest, countless scars littering his skin from one scrape or another. But then he remembers that he's really the only man Gipsy has ever been interested in which means she has nobody to compare him to, and he forces himself to stop thinking about it.
His lips abandon hers to trail down the smooth column of her neck, nibbling along the sweep of her clavicles, his fingers stroking the skin just below the band of her bra nice and slow.
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Date: 2013-07-20 07:04 pm (UTC)She sighs and adjusts under him, just a little, hips lifting to press up before settling back down. She's bared and while she's certain that he's very enthralled in her wearing considerably less clothing, Gipsy would really feel better if they were a matched set in that. It's only fair, right?
"These...are infuriating." She mumbles, hands picking at the buttons on his shirt. She's glad she's only got the one, just there on her standard issue pants.
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Date: 2013-07-20 07:19 pm (UTC)He's far too distracted by the taste of her synthetic skin beneath his lips to care about his shirt, which is why he just hums distractedly when she gripes about the buttons that are thwarting her. Herc's a little busy with sliding his fingers under the band of her bra and carefully peeling it up and off.
Just as he anticipated, her skin is flawless, her body a perfect representation of a beautiful woman. It's almost infuriating. Except that he gets to enjoy it, so really...
His hand fits perfectly against her breast like they were made for each other, the perfect skin soft and silky smooth beneath his fingers, and Herc has to muffle a quiet noise against her neck as he presses wet, open-mouthed kisses there, a little overwhelmed by the fact that this is all real, it's all happening in real life. He really has her here, spread out on his bed, this is really her body that's responding so eagerly to his, those are really her hands roving across his shoulders.
It's not a dream.
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Date: 2013-07-20 07:33 pm (UTC)She gives up on those infernal buttons for now because he's busy removing more of her clothing and really bares her before him. She's nervous all over again and there's a twist of apprehension in her gut that's quickly extinguished by the noise he makes and the immediateness that his hands find her skin once more. It's reassuring, and it feels amazing. It sends what's not becoming a familiar rush through her and has her fidgeting beneath him, just a little.
It reminds her of when she'd lived through that memory through him, but this time she can pinpoint the ache she'd felt now that she's experiencing it for herself.
Lifting a trembling hand, Gipsy carefully rests a protective hand on the back of his head, fingers tracing over his hair as she bites on her lower lip, a little groan bubbling in her chest. My pilot. Mine.
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Date: 2013-07-20 07:45 pm (UTC)He can't.
His lips travel down south, trailing wet little kisses across the swell of her breast, his stubble raising a hectic pink flush over her pale skin. He has to admit, he rather likes that. What he likes even more, though, is how quickly her nipples pebble when he brushes his lips over those instead, the way her body squirms beneath his when he teases the rosy skin with his tongue.
She's perfect. There's absolutely nothing about her that he would change.
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Date: 2013-07-20 07:56 pm (UTC)…She’d worried, at first, what the hell she was supposed to do with her hands. Now it just seems to come naturally. Her nails trace over his scalp and she sucks in a gasp, skin tightening with every swipe of his tongue.
Maybe this wouldn’t be as awkward as she’d initially thought. It helps that she’d porn surfed his brain before, too.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-20 08:03 pm (UTC)He worries a perfect strawberry-shaped bruise on the underside of her breast, looking very pleased with himself when he pulls back a little to survey his handiwork, taking a moment to puff a stream of cool air across the saliva cooling on her skin just to watch it tighten and goosebumps crawl across her chest and arms.
He's not disappointed.
"You're prefect," he murmurs, echoing his previous thoughts on the matter, ducking back down almost immediately to pay attention to her other breast now. Don't want anyone to feel left out.
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Date: 2013-07-20 08:19 pm (UTC)"Only--" She has to take a deep, ragged breath, head tipping back when he goes back down, "only when I'm with you." They complete each other, they fit each other.
He proves it when his mouth fits perfectly back over her opposite breast, and she murmurs his name, three syllables rolling off her tongue in a shuddered sigh.
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Date: 2013-07-20 08:27 pm (UTC)He only takes a break to tug them down and off her legs, tossing them to land somewhere on the floor, he doesn't really care right now.
Right now he's got other things to focus on, like her long, smooth legs. Suspiciously smooth, like Tendo didn't bother putting hair follicles into her skin. Not like Hercules minds, of course, especially not when she moans his name, effectively derailing whatever thoughts he may have been trying to articulate.
He gives up on contemplating just what Tendo was thinking when he helped make Gipsy's body, and focuses instead on appreciating said body, starting with scooting down the bed so he can stroke and kiss her legs instead.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-20 08:39 pm (UTC)And you know what?
This is so unfair. He's got her entirely naked now, and the favor hasn't been returned yet. Honestly, Hercules -- Gipsy will only be able to endure so much attention lavished on her body for so long. She's been aching for so long to please him and now that she's got the opportunity, he's switched things up.
Hard to complain when he's all over her, though, and especially even more so now that he's out of reach.
"Hercules," she pushes herself up to prop on her elbows, eyes focused on him, and hands gripping at the sheets on his bed. "You...are driving me crazy."
no subject
Date: 2013-07-20 08:55 pm (UTC)"I know, love." He's utterly unrepentant. "That's the idea."
He winks at her before attaching his lips to her inner thigh, sucking a hickey into the soft skin as he coaxes her to spread her legs for him so he can settle down comfortably between them.
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Date: 2013-07-20 09:00 pm (UTC)"Come here," she says, and reaches to grasp hold of his shirt and jerk him close to her, tongue swiping over his lower lip before her mouth crushes against his.
He might have to look into a new shirt, because if Gipsy can't get these goddamn buttons undone it's going to just get ripped off.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-20 09:03 pm (UTC)"Gipsy, darling, you spoil my fun," he teases, nipping at her lip when she smashes their mouths together.
Her fingers still can't quite figure out his buttons and so he takes pity on her and undoes them himself, shrugging out his shirt and flinging it onto the floor in much the same manner as he took care of her pants. That still leaves him in his undershirt, though, but at least it's progress of a sort.
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Date: 2013-07-20 09:05 pm (UTC)"...Do I?" She hesitates for a moment before reaching to tug at the hem of his undershirt, pulling at it so that she can slip her hands beneath it and smooth her palms over his skin.
"I don't mean to."
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Date: 2013-07-20 09:10 pm (UTC)Because her slim, deceptively strong hands feel so nice against his skin. He reaches behind himself and hauls his shirt off, tossing it away on the floor as well, leaving him clad now in just his trousers. Those can be dealt with later, though, because he wants to kiss her now, wants to frame her face in his hands and press his chest to hers, feel her synthetic heart beat against her ribs.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-20 09:37 pm (UTC)There's a certain excitement about this, too. Since she can't read his thoughts, she only has reactions, words, and expressions to go on. It's like a riddle to be solved, one that she has to examine and inspect at all angles before she can really find the answer, the bigger picture.
Gipsy's synthetic heart slams against her ribcage, a frantic rhythm that doesn't give any indication that it's going to ease up. Her arms go around him and she holds him close, pressing him against her as she molds her mouth to his.
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Date: 2013-07-20 09:49 pm (UTC)So he holds himself in check, just covers her body with his and kisses her slowly and thoroughly, mapping out her mouth like there will be a test later, one arm curling around her head, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair as the other hand strokes over her body. His hips nudge against hers in a shallow rocking rhythm, his one concession to the need that's coiling in his belly.
He can wait. He can.
He wants to take Gipsy apart first, make him tremble and wail and learn that there is so much good to these fragile human bodies.
no subject
Date: 2013-07-20 10:02 pm (UTC)Alright, alright. Time to relax, and let him take control. Mostly. There's still an impatient streak that Gipsy has always nursed, though instant gratification isn't what she wants right now. She wants slow and long and loving and tender and passion-filled.
So, she can wait, too.
"Sorry," she breathes, trembling a little and cupping the back of his head. "Just -- eager."
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