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Post by Veata Chea on Apr 12, 2010 13:45:45 GMT -5
The simple movements of Lovino’s hands snapped Veata out of her reverie and back to his home. In the steps of her heritage she had lost herself, slipped back into the memories of her childhood and away from the hold of this Italian. It had been strange to recall so vividly the warm scent of the humid air against her bare arms, the gentle fluttering of her blue sarong wrapped around her small legs…the voices of her father and brothers with their excited and complimenting words. Her slipping away had been unknown to even herself but the effects were completely hard to ignore.
It was an instinct left behind by her nostalgia, a need to hide away from the emotions that flooded her mentally with the memory of those that were long dead, of those that she had tried to leave behind. With the alcohol pushing away any inhibitions that may have held Veata back before, her slender hands slipped away from his own and wrapped instead around his neck. A small step forward brought her body flushed against his own but the female couldn’t see that. All she could feel was his comforting warmth wrapped around her tipsy form as her head rested comfortably in the crook of his neck.
Saddening memories faded away as she settled comfortably in Lovino’s hold, the idea of dancing forgotten as well. It wasn’t the warmth of her father, it wasn’t the hold of her older brothers, but something about it felt so much more welcoming to the girl. Was it because there were no memories attached to this hold that it didn’t hurt but rather pleased? Veata’s fingers played gently with the hair on his neck, her dark brown eyes peering up quietly into the golden eyes of Lovino. “I was taught…that Westerners danced like this…” The lie came to her lips before she could stop it but Veata couldn’t bring herself to care.
Anything so long as he held her a little longer like this.
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Post by Lovino Vargas on Apr 13, 2010 22:09:42 GMT -5
Lovino tensed almost imperceptibly as her small hands wound their way around his neck, light fingers caressing his skin. A deep flush rose to his cheeks as his own hands found their way around her waist and tugged her in just that much more. His breath caught in his throat as he stared down at the top of her head before resting his chin atop soft raven-hued locks. Warm heat pooled in his stomach and quickened his heartbeat, feeling the curve of her body press so neatly, so perfectly against his own.
But she'd be wondering why he was silent, and though it took a deep breath, he finally smiled and murmured into her hair, "We do, sometimes..." At that moment, he didn't care to question who had taught her about Western dance but not Western food, just thanking Dios that he'd stumbled upon this beautiful creature in the plains earlier that afternoon. Through his thin silk shirt, he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, feel the slender curve of her hips against his and Dios this desire was driving him mad--
Swallowing hard, he let one of his hands tentatively slip around to her back, trailing his hand slowly up and down along her spine before letting his fingers just gently, ever so gently caress her own neck in a mimicry of her movements, his other hand lightly squeezing her hip, finding just the tiniest bit of exposed flesh between her skirt and her shirt and letting his thumb cover it. She was so small and warm, and as his lips inched toward her ear--
He would gladly go mad to keep feeling like this. [/blockquote]
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Post by Veata Chea on Apr 14, 2010 14:18:40 GMT -5
A small moan slipped off her tongue, her head nuzzling gently into his warm chest even as the warm tips of his fingers ran down her spine and sent a small shudder through the female’s frame. Hands tightened instinctively around his neck, fingernails scarping gently against the Italian’s skin. The alcohol thrumming strongly through her body left the female’s judgment blurry and her physical sensitivity heightened, not exactly a good combination in the hold of a stranger that Veata barely knew…Actually, how many glasses of wine had she drunk so far?
Veata lifted her head, albeit with some trouble, and threw a glance over the male’s shoulder at the wine bottle. It was clearly over half empty…most of which had fallen into her own mouth when Lovino had his back turned. Now how had she managed to do that again in such a small amount of time?...Well, even if Veata had been able to recall it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Any moment of coherency that may have jolted through her mind moments ago in the memories that had crowded her died down as her mind fell victim to the alluring wine once more. The sharp flicker in her eyes had faded back down into the glazed appearance, a clear sign that the female was back into her more than slightly tipsy state.
…which would account for why, with no apparent reasoning behind it, she stood on her tiptoes and pushed a gentle peck into Lovino’s cheek with a silly grin. In this drunken state where Veata couldn’t bring herself to remember the mantras and traditions of her home, all she could feel was this male’s warmth wrapped around her. Any self-scoldings for her behavior were forgotten, one by one, with each gentle fluttering of his fingers across her exposed skin. The flame and carnal instinct that had torn through her body hours before slipped back into her body, heightened even more so because of the alcohol’s effects.
Soft lips brushed against Lovino’s ear as she whispered out gently to her host with a slight slur in her voice, “You’re so strange, Mister Lovino. Are all Westerners like you?”
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Post by Lovino Vargas on Apr 14, 2010 15:39:29 GMT -5
Lovino's eyes widened at the brush of the young woman's lips against his cheek, a high-pitched CHIGI! screaming through his mind but getting stuck somewhere in his throat so only a muffled gasp escaped his lips. "I- I wouldn't say that," he stammered, then scowled at his own voice. "I mean, all Cambodian women can't be as pretty as my beautiful signorina, si?"
Her lips grazed his ear, and he could smell the sweet wine drifting on her breath. Veata was clearly drunk, and the oft-squashed, honorable side of the Italian screamed angry curses at him before throwing his hands up in defeat and joining his brain inside that tiny box in the corner of his mind. One hand ghosted around her neck to lightly grasp her chin, tilting her face toward his. He paused there for a few seconds, just studying the heart-shaped curve of her face, the tender curve of her lips, the exotic flair of her eyes before carefully pulling her in, pausing with his lips hovering just above hers. "Mi dispiace, signorina," he murmured softly, Italian flowing over his lips as sweet as the wine on her breath.
The he gave in and kissed her; not roughly like the growing desire mounting in his body demanded, but a light, gentle brush that waited for her permission before continuing further.
Goddammit I'm going mad...
-------------------- mi dispiace -- I'm sorry
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Post by Veata Chea on Apr 14, 2010 20:33:40 GMT -5
Veata’s tipsy grin drifted into an amused giggle, the alcohol-induced flush sharp against her normally pale cheeks. Slender fingers had wandered away from his strong neck, tracing the prominent warmth of his skin under the silken cloth of his shirt in her slightly drunken stupor. Dark brown eyes glazed over with the effects of the red wine gladly took in the Italian’s features even as her fingers toyed gently with a loose thread upon his shirt, tugging lightly at the silk. The red wine that had run only weakly before settled into the haze of her blood, clouding even more so her common sense and allowing for the female to fall easier to her unmasked desires regardless of anything else that may have stopped her.
The alluring scent of Lovino drew her face in with a gentle nuzzle against his flesh. Hands had tightened around the material of his shirt, pulling herself closer despite the proximity that already existed between their forms. Such a comforting warmth mixed with the earthy smell of tomatoes and something else that Veata’s distorted mind couldn’t identify. It reminded her faintly of a summer evening in Cambodia before the civil war had begun, a time where things had not hurt and the world had been her own private island. Repulse her it should from the memories it stirred within Veata in a sober state but like this, it was beyond tempting and drew her in.
Lips fluttered gently against the exposed skin of his collarbone, a light moan dancing on the tip of her tongue before Veata found her face being drawn away and tilted upwards. The sudden motion blurred everything to the point where all she could see was the heated gold of his eyes. Even in her state of mind she caught the unbridled desire that the Italian failed at trying to hide and it only sent a flame akin to his desire in her veins. Her breaths picked up pace as she leaned in closer, lips taking his own in eagerly with a small forward motion.
Wandering hands that had “behaved” so well earlier fell into his soft locks of hair, pressing him forward eagerly against her body as the other fell in-between their bodies, tracing the contours of his chest through the thin shirt. For a moment she drew away, her breath fanning across his lips and whispering out before she pressed against him eagerly once more. “Lovi…”
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Post by Lovino Vargas on Apr 20, 2010 20:59:38 GMT -5
"Signorina..." Lovino bit back a moan as her hands caressed his chest, her breath warm against his lips. "V-Veata--" Unable to contain himself in the rising heat, he quickly pulled back to wrap one arm around the back of her knees and lift her off the ground, supporting her shoulders bridal-style. She was so soft and light, pressing so perfectly against him that he easily crossed the room in a few steps to gently deposit her on the couch beneath the bay window.
The last vestiges of the sunset lined her heart-shaped face with a fiery glow, and the candlelight from the table nearby flickered in her deep eyes. Heart pounding in his ears, Lovino sat on the very edge of the couch and leaned over her to brush his lips lightly against hers, resisting the urge to climb on top of her for easier access. His hands moved as if on their own as he kissed her again, roughly, tongue demanding entrance to the soft cavity of her mouth as a hand brushed dark strands of hair away from her face. The blood pounding through his body and the sounds from the woman below him quickened his own breath as he pulled back a few centimeters to let his hand lightly trail down the side of her face to the hollow of her throat, stopping at the buttoned collar of her shirt with a grin.
His fingers twitched as he tugged carefully at the soft cloth, urged on by promises of the softer skin beneath. Eyes darkening, Lovino let his other hand lightly cup one of her breasts as he kissed her again before quickly pulling back to tug with greater insistence as fingers shaking with desire teasingly opened the first button.
The small part of the Italian not maddened by lust kept him from unbuttoning her shirt the rest of the way, but he let his lips roam freely over her face, her neck, the tiny bit of flesh revealed by that one button to try and persuade her. This was so wrong, it felt far too good to be anything but a sin...
"Vea..." he breathed as he pulled back to stare at her eyes, heartbeat pounding in his ears at the rush of desire coursing through him, fingers pausing over the second button. [/blockquote]
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Post by Veata Chea on Apr 21, 2010 17:47:59 GMT -5
A soft, breathless gasp was torn from parted lips, shivers running deeply down her spine. Veata’s lithe form leaned into his hold, her slender hands gripping the silken material of his shirt between her fingers. Dark brown eyes were lidded with desire as breathless noises danced on the tip of her tongue. There was no denying it anymore, the flame that gripped her body now in rolling waves. She’d never felt this way before, had never had this burning in her stomach lit so strongly by this Italian with his sweetened tongue and roving lips. Her intoxication heightened the sensitivity of her skin and the deep Signorina rolling off of his tongue had her begging for more.
Instinctively her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around him to balance herself. The sudden movement sent her mind spinning and left her unable to focus on anything but the molten gold of his eyes. God, in the few hours that she had spent with this male, his eyes were the things that drew her in the most. Nobody had eyes quite like Lovino…and it wasn’t just the color that made it unusual. There was nobody in Cambodia that had ever looked at Veata with that glint in his eyes, with that unbridled desire that hinted at what he could do to her.
Her heartbeat pounded through her ears as her body arched up all too willingly into his hands. Fingers wove into his hair, dragging him closer onto her aching body. The warmth of his body so close to the tips of her finger drove her absolutely insane. So close and yet it wasn’t enough for Veata. She wanted to feel his body, free of anything, pressed up against her own; to run wandering hands across the contours of his body and drag her tongue across his heated flesh. It was a desire new to her curiosity and as the moments passed Veata found it to be like an addictive drug.
“Lovi…” His name came unbidden to her lips, a mere whisper in the heated air. The gentle fluttering of her shirt sent another deep shudder of anticipation throughout her body. With his face cradled gently in one hand the other slipped towards the second button of her shirt, encouraging the male to undo it with a small pull. She wanted him so badly right now in the moment, everything that she had ever been taught forgotten with each brush of his lips against her flushed skin. “Please…Lovino…”
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