She's started panting softly, her body gently writhing against his, when he whispers in her ear. She gives a breathless laugh. Both of the options sound equally torturous...and equally amazing.
"The second," she pants with a smile. "Make me beg."
"Your wish is my command," he whispers playfully with a smile, nipping a little at her ear. "Warn me like you usually do then, okay?"
He'll leave it up to her if she wants to try to come or try to resist, but he appreciates the warning to make him not have go guess, even if he's pretty good at reading her by now.
The first time he doesn't wait for a warning though, not wanting to push it too close, just warming up. He just massages her for a while longer, before he pulls his hand back and licks his fingers, then instead going to gently play with her breasts and nipples for a while.
She giggles a little when he nips at her ear. "Will do," she promises with a smile.
She lets herself relax in his embrace as he touches her, just enjoying it, knowing that he'll soon stop. When he refocuses his attention on her breasts she smiles up at him, both warm and playful.
"You too," he answers happily. And he loves being able to do stuff like this with her in a relaxing and fun way. There's no performance anxiety, no worries. Just the two of them having a good time. Because of the love and trust and understanding involved.
He sits up a bit, smiling down at her. "Roll over?"
She's completely comfortable with him, and happy to know that he's comfortable with her. It makes this playfulness all the more enjoyable, that they can explore without worrying about misunderstandings or judgment.
"Do you want me on my side or my stomach?" she asks, pushing herself up onto her elbows.
"On your stomach," he answers. "I figured if we're gonna have some breaks, I might as well work on turning your muscles into jello again," he says with a grin, referring to the massage he gave her. Though this one will definitely be a bit more of the erotic kind.
He nods and leans down to kiss her cheek, then starts giving her a backrub. Not an extremely firm one, not focusing on loosening knots, more on the enjoyment of the sensation.
He massages her shoulders and upper arms, before working down her sides and lower back, and then her butt and thighs. And then he reaches under between her legs as well, rubbing his palm up against her clitoris, just to make sure she doesn't forget why they're there.
He's generally very good at massages, but she recognizes how this one is different. How the aim is to make her feel good in an entirely different way than your typical muscle massage. So when his hand slides between her legs and his palm rubs at her clit, she hasn't forgotten his ultimate aim. She hums happily, rocking her hips a little against that hand.
Ted smiles and leans down to kiss her back, still rubbing his hand against her for a bit, at least enough to get her panting somewhat, before he switches back to massaging her legs, even down to her calves.
He alternates between between massaging her muscles and then a more intimate massage, building it up more than she has time to come down, slowly increasing the intensity. He definitely won't have this a lengthy build-up each time, but taking their time at first means a stronger need and frustration.
And then after quite a bit of this, he lies down next to her. "Come here.." he requests, gently guiding her to roll over so she can spoon against him.
He's so attentive, so in tune with her body, that he's doing an amazing job at ratcheting up the pleasure and the tension. By the time he lies down next to her she is feeling distinctly hot and bothered, her enjoyment of his touch starting to be colored by her growing need for climax. She lets herself be guided, nestling against him, snuggling into his warmth.
Ted kisses her neck and behind her ear, enjoying her body pressed against his. He reaches around, continuing to pleasure her with his hand, though not too firmly for the moment.
"How are you doing, sweetie?" he whispers next to her ear.
"Extremely aroused," she murmurs back, a little breathless yet with a smile, raising one arm to bury her fingers into his hair and bending one knee to open herself up to him more fully. "You're very good at this," she adds.
"You usually get good at the stuff you care about doing right," he says with a smile, nuzzling against her neck. "You want more?" he asks, still massaging her.
Joan smiles, so touched by his words. Ted has an amazing talent of making people feel valued and valuable, and it's wonderful that he can still make her feel particularly loved, even when the baseline of how being with him makes her feel is already so high.
"Yes please," she responds to his question, curious of how he'll proceed, when he'll stop and how many times he'll stop before bringing her to climax.
Ted obviously doesn't care about being good at sex for bragging rights, since he never talks about it, or some sort of macho self-confidence. All he cares about is making his partner feel good. And how you do that is mostly just by being attentive and dedicated.
How he proceeds is that immediately at her affirmative, he increases both the firmness and the speed of his hand against her sex, tugging her closer against him. The only way he relents from then on is by focusing more on curling his fingers inside her than on the friction against her clitoris.
He's focused entirely on reading her reactions, her breathing and her sounds, the way she writhes or tenses against him.
Once he can feel her getting close, he whispers into her ear again. "Do you want to come?"
Joan bites her lip to try to stifle a moan as he intensifies his actions, her fingers curling in his hair as the rest of her body writhes against him, the sensation of his fingers curling inside her setting her nerves on fire. By the time he whispers she's tense and crying out softly with every panting exhale, trembling with need.
It's so wonderful to see her like this, to feel and hear her like this. He almost feels bad denying her, but that was her decision, and it's only going to make things better later on.
He keeps going for as long as he dares, then suddenly slows his movements to a tantalizing near-stop, kissing her neck as she squirms. And then after a few torturous moments he moves his hand completely away, stroking the inside of her thigh, then her stomach, and then just holding her. "Not yet."
She knew he was going to do that, of course. It's what he said he'd do, and, more importantly, it's what she asked for. But even with that knowledge the frustration is absolutely, deliciously torturous as his hand slows and then leaves her sex entirely. She groans softly, panting, her body covered in a light sheen of sweat. She just breathes, letting herself be held in his arms, warmed and comforted by his body folded around her.
He closes his eyes, just snuggling while she catches her breath. Then after a minute, he kisses her neck before letting her go and sitting up.
"Do you want some water?" he offers. They have been at it for a while, and, well, sweating. (He hopes Beard and Sherlock aren't still playing chess outside, but they can't really be trapped in their room just because Ted feels awkward.)
Joan rolls onto her back and smiles at him, her beloved tormentor, then glances toward the door.
"Do you think Sherlock and Beard are still in the living room?" She doesn't want Ted to be embarrassed, or to disturb their respective partners in their game, or whatever else they might be doing.
"Well, I was gonna put on some clothes first," he points out jokingly. If not actual clothes, then at least the bathrobe.
"I gotta take my meds," he adds, so she doesn't think it's just to fetch her water. His ribs in particular have been starting to ache, and given what they're up to, that's not very comfortable.
She laughs a little at the thought of him walking into the living room entirely in the buff. Sherlock wouldn't blink, not being the sort to be scandalized about nudity, but he would be surprised by Ted being so bold. She thinks Beard's reaction would likely be similar.
He leans down to give her a kiss, then grabs some paper to wipe his hand off. He doesn't bother getting properly dressed, just grabbing the bathrobe, though he does put on underwear underneath first.
He just grabs one crutch, so he can carry stuff back, before heading to the bathroom.
Joan watches him go, smiling fondly. She hopes he can manage on one crutch without too much trouble.
Once he's out of the room, Joan brushes her fingertips idly along her stomach. She's tempted to touch herself, to relieve the ache between her legs. But that seems counter to their purpose.
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"The second," she pants with a smile. "Make me beg."
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He'll leave it up to her if she wants to try to come or try to resist, but he appreciates the warning to make him not have go guess, even if he's pretty good at reading her by now.
The first time he doesn't wait for a warning though, not wanting to push it too close, just warming up. He just massages her for a while longer, before he pulls his hand back and licks his fingers, then instead going to gently play with her breasts and nipples for a while.
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She lets herself relax in his embrace as he touches her, just enjoying it, knowing that he'll soon stop. When he refocuses his attention on her breasts she smiles up at him, both warm and playful.
"I love you," she murmurs.
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He sits up a bit, smiling down at her. "Roll over?"
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"Do you want me on my side or my stomach?" she asks, pushing herself up onto her elbows.
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She turns her head to smile at him, pillowing her cheek on her hands.
"Like this?"
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He massages her shoulders and upper arms, before working down her sides and lower back, and then her butt and thighs. And then he reaches under between her legs as well, rubbing his palm up against her clitoris, just to make sure she doesn't forget why they're there.
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He alternates between between massaging her muscles and then a more intimate massage, building it up more than she has time to come down, slowly increasing the intensity. He definitely won't have this a lengthy build-up each time, but taking their time at first means a stronger need and frustration.
And then after quite a bit of this, he lies down next to her. "Come here.." he requests, gently guiding her to roll over so she can spoon against him.
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"How are you doing, sweetie?" he whispers next to her ear.
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"Yes please," she responds to his question, curious of how he'll proceed, when he'll stop and how many times he'll stop before bringing her to climax.
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How he proceeds is that immediately at her affirmative, he increases both the firmness and the speed of his hand against her sex, tugging her closer against him. The only way he relents from then on is by focusing more on curling his fingers inside her than on the friction against her clitoris.
He's focused entirely on reading her reactions, her breathing and her sounds, the way she writhes or tenses against him.
Once he can feel her getting close, he whispers into her ear again. "Do you want to come?"
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"Yes," she near-whimpers.
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He keeps going for as long as he dares, then suddenly slows his movements to a tantalizing near-stop, kissing her neck as she squirms. And then after a few torturous moments he moves his hand completely away, stroking the inside of her thigh, then her stomach, and then just holding her. "Not yet."
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"Do you want some water?" he offers. They have been at it for a while, and, well, sweating. (He hopes Beard and Sherlock aren't still playing chess outside, but they can't really be trapped in their room just because Ted feels awkward.)
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"Do you think Sherlock and Beard are still in the living room?" She doesn't want Ted to be embarrassed, or to disturb their respective partners in their game, or whatever else they might be doing.
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"I gotta take my meds," he adds, so she doesn't think it's just to fetch her water. His ribs in particular have been starting to ache, and given what they're up to, that's not very comfortable.
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"Water would be nice," she says with a smile.
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He just grabs one crutch, so he can carry stuff back, before heading to the bathroom.
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Once he's out of the room, Joan brushes her fingertips idly along her stomach. She's tempted to touch herself, to relieve the ache between her legs. But that seems counter to their purpose.
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