[Finch's head is - clouded - a mess of hazy thoughts, a horny want for something. Someone on top of him, whose presence makes his hips buck up and his skin warm in a flush down his throat and chest. His hands are up her thighs, one hand cupping between her legs to feel her cunt through her underwear - crooking his fingers against the dip of her folds, groaning softly as his other hand is blindly trying to shove down his own pants without giving up a second of admiring her, with his eyes and the circle of his middle finger against her clit through the cotton.]
(Even though she brought his hand to where she wanted it she still gasps when he touches her, the pads of his fingers pressing inward as if they could go inside her that way before circling slow and lazy, feeling her. It's good, it's — been a while. Then he jostles them both with his arm; Ptolemais's eyes jolt open and she looks down, not to help, but to watch him work to free himself. An unboxing video.
[Said with a breathy laugh, mostly successful with his hip bones out and his pants shoved down his thighs. He's still so wrapped up in wanting more of her, the sooner the better - so yeah. Yeah. He could use the help.]
(She grins, waits a moment longer and then takes pity on him, drifting her hand down between to sink her fingers into the waistband of his underwear. She pulls them down, lifts herself (not ideal: losing contact with his hand in the process) so he can get his pants mostly off, everything off enough that it's easy to touch him, wrap her hand around his heat and hardness.
Is it fucked that his arousal makes her mouth water? Oh well.)
[Finch has always been putty in the hands of a woman, so when she touches him his eyelids flutter and his hips lift in the same motion. He grips at her thighs, her hips, tries to graze a breast but it's obvious he is but a weak and horny man, staring at her with lust and a little too much affection to be the one off they both presume this could be.]
(Him underneath of her: a solid, hot line of body and muscle and dick arching into her hand, the pre-cum that slicks her palm when she drags it up and down him, suddenly more interested in this than she was in his hand against her cunt. Yes, the hand planted into the grass by his shoulder is starting to hurt from holding herself up but it's more than worth the look on his face.) Yeah. I'm good.
[He huffs a breath that hints at the latent amusement, hands again on her, grabbing at her hips to insistently pull her down toward him. She still has control and leverage, still has him under her thumb - but he's yearning for a little more.]
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Then she laughs, just a little.)
Need a hand?
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[Said with a breathy laugh, mostly successful with his hip bones out and his pants shoved down his thighs. He's still so wrapped up in wanting more of her, the sooner the better - so yeah. Yeah. He could use the help.]
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Is it fucked that his arousal makes her mouth water? Oh well.)
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[Finch has always been putty in the hands of a woman, so when she touches him his eyelids flutter and his hips lift in the same motion. He grips at her thighs, her hips, tries to graze a breast but it's obvious he is but a weak and horny man, staring at her with lust and a little too much affection to be the one off they both presume this could be.]
You sure you want to stay on top?
[Joking, playful - teasing. Can you handle it?]
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(Him underneath of her: a solid, hot line of body and muscle and dick arching into her hand, the pre-cum that slicks her palm when she drags it up and down him, suddenly more interested in this than she was in his hand against her cunt. Yes, the hand planted into the grass by his shoulder is starting to hurt from holding herself up but it's more than worth the look on his face.) Yeah. I'm good.
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[He huffs a breath that hints at the latent amusement, hands again on her, grabbing at her hips to insistently pull her down toward him. She still has control and leverage, still has him under her thumb - but he's yearning for a little more.]