#nsfios

It’s soft, almost tentative, until you let your arms wind around her neck, let your hands get lost in the dark mass of her hair. It’s all the sign she needs to deepen the kiss, to let her tongue delve into your mouth. Her one hand still cupping your face while the other is firm on your waist, her hips pressing against yours keeping you trapped against the edge of her desk.

She’s too good at this. Too good at turning you into putty in your hands. Too good at silencing the smarter parts of you. The parts that tell you this is a bad idea, such a bad idea, that you should walk away now.

She wants more

God, you do too.

Just like a sparring match, you are scrambling to keep up. Her lips moving against yours, pulling and pushing in equal measure. You’re out of practice and out of breath. Desperate reactions, as you try to keep up to not lose yourself completely to the pace she sets, her hand moving to the back of your neck, holding you where she wants you. Putty.

Her lips leave yours, and she chuckles at the needy whine that escapes you. Stupid smug Julia, and you want to say something to bring her down a peg, but she’s still kissing you. First a press to the corner of your mouth, teasing, so close to where you want her, a peck to your cheek, and finally a kiss to the edge of your jaw.

Her hand on your waist staring to stray, light teasing touches at the edge of your breast.

You’re still clothed. You’ll always have to be clothed, too many secrets on your skin. Your mind knows it would ruin everything, but your body doesn’t. The ache in-between your legs trying to drive away all reason, all logic, all rational thought.

If she doesn’t touch you, you’ll die. If you let her touch you, you are doomed. Stuck balancing on the razor’s edge, and her teeth find your earlobe. The warm of her mouth followed by the sharp sting of her teeth.

Paralyzed, you need to stop this you need to leave, but that would mean she would stop. Would stop the messy trail of kisses down your neck. Only slowing when she reaches the edge of your shirt. She lingers there, her mouth hot and insistent on your skin, setting your nerves to dancing.

She bites, not hard, but enough for you to give a started yelp.

The next kiss is soft as an apology against your neck. A warmer one against your lips, but without the heat of only a few moments ago. She rests her forehead against yours for just a moment before pulling back, letting the tension between you break and dissipate.

You find a reason to leave. You both know the excuse is flimsy, but she doesn’t protest. Her gaze is heavy on your back as you walk away, and you want to turn back, to let yourself be drawn back into her arms, but you resist.

You tell yourself you should keep your distance. You can’t continue to tempt fate this way, but you already know it’s futile.

You will let yourself be drawn back to her, drawn back into her arms, the temptation of her kiss. Even if it ends up destroying you, there’s no other way you’d rather go.

I think ortega is the only one who really rocks the titty out looks on the regular.

Argent can adjust her chest depending on her mood/what will work better for the clothing she is wearing (and honestly what I wouldn't give for that ability. just be like titty free 90% of the time)

Chen has a nice large firm chest, but doesn't dress to accentuate it at all, everything fully buttoned

boba is fucking messy. he needs you sweaty and shaking and drenched or else he hasn't done his job. he's turning you into his personal fountain. he likes the way you both taste and he wants you to taste it.