She's a little startled, sensing his intent, placing her in the position to direct their encounter. Moon's interest was piqued, and she found in her the necessary desire to lean forward and press her lips to his chest.
It was exhilarating for her, the freedom in this. He didn't grab at her. He didn't instruct her. It was as if he were permitting her the time and opportunity to discover what she would at her own pace.
And her pace is slow.
She calls on her scattered memory to try and piece together the things she thinks might be enjoyed or welcomed, lips pressed to skin, tongue darting out to taste, hands moving along muscle. While she did these things, cheeks still crimson, she would occasionally glance up at Indy for approval or encouragement, still uncertain, but gaining in her confidence.
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It was exhilarating for her, the freedom in this. He didn't grab at her. He didn't instruct her. It was as if he were permitting her the time and opportunity to discover what she would at her own pace.
And her pace is slow.
She calls on her scattered memory to try and piece together the things she thinks might be enjoyed or welcomed, lips pressed to skin, tongue darting out to taste, hands moving along muscle. While she did these things, cheeks still crimson, she would occasionally glance up at Indy for approval or encouragement, still uncertain, but gaining in her confidence.