WHO: Ingrid Catchlove & Christian Entwhistle
WHAT: Valentine's Day stuff, that's what!
WHEN: ...Valentine's Day? WELL, THE 16TH, SUE ME.
WHERE: Hogsmeade
RATING: Hard R, NSFW ;]

"No, I'm not any more lost than when the last of you asked me--two minutes ago."

The hitwizard nodded solemnly and walked away from the annoyed Gryffindor, but out of the corner of her eye, Ingrid spotted him stopping just a few meters away, where he continued to watch her. This was bloody ridiculous, all the security for a Hogsmeade weekend---well, she could see why after the whole dementor attack and all, but it just seemed overkill in some degree. This was the fifth time she'd been confronted by a hitwizard or an auror and asked why she was alone, if she was lost, what she was doing there, and she'd only been in the village for ten minutes!

Looking at her watch as she stood outside the Three Broomsticks, she mentally willed Christian to hurry up. The only way they were going to stop asking her questions was if she had someone with her; but more than that, she just really couldn't wait to see him again. Sure, it hadn't been the three months she had originally anticipated it'd take to see him, but it had still been a long time and she didn't miss him any less. She knew he was coming from outside of Hogwarts and probably going through some security check crap, but all her friends had already run off with their own boyfriends and it made Ingrid just slightly more anxious.

He was almost certain that Hogsmeade weekends weren't like this when he was in school. Not that Christian liked to date himself, but he found the whole thing a bit ridiculous. Why, he had come uncomfortably close to being patted down by a hostile-looking hitwizard before he managed to convince him that he wasn't harboring a dementor in his pockets; just what was the wizarding world coming to when a school trip was put on complete lockdown?!

Hands swathed in fingerless gloves reached up to adjust a knit cap over the shaggy curls of his hair; he felt disheveled and a bit aggrivated after going through such an intense interrogation, but he knew that the end result would be worth it. Perhaps it was the helpless romantic in him, but weeks without seeing Ingrid tended to feel more like months, and months more like years.

Strolling through the streets of Hogsmeade, he paused briefly in Honeydukes to grab some color-changing gummy bears before weaving his way towards their assigned meeting place. He arrived just in time to see her dismiss another hitwizard in decidedly clipped tones... looked like he wasn't the only one undergoing serious scrutiny these days. He suppressed a smirk and came up behind her, unable to resist the opportunity to tease her. He leaned down to speak softly near her ear, his tone casual. "'Scuse me miss, but... are you lost?"

"BLOODY HELL, DO YOU PEOPLE HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH--"

Ingrid spun around on her heel mid-sentence, letting this new hitwizard really have it, only to find someone who was decidely not a hitwizard. "--oh shit, Christian, I--" she cut herself off, in that moment too surprised to fully realize-- "CHRISTIAN!" Okay, so it didn't take her too terribly long to realize that she was facing the person that she had been waiting for.

Letting out a loud exclamation of excitement, she jumped up and hugged him tightly, the most marvelously brilliant grin on her face. She pulled back to kiss him, then hugged him again for good measure, before she finally let him go. "Holy shit, I seriously thought you were--don't do that, you git!" she laughed, not seeming too very upset compared to the words coming from her mouth.

He laughed, his own boyish smirk tilting his mouth lopsided as he wrapped his arms around her in return, letting her excitement wash over him. "I've never known a girl who swears so much as you," he teasingly chided, burrowing his face into the curve of her neck and kissing just under her ear. Drawing back, he kissed her lips one last lingering time before looking at her, his playfulness subsiding slightly under the pure contentment he felt at seeing her again.

"Missed you," he said, lowering his gaze briefly as he surrended to a silly, half-embarrassed grin. He released her for a moment to plunge a hand into the pocket of his ratty old coat, drawing from it the bag of enchanted gummy bears he'd purchased only minutes before. "Here. These are for you. For Valentine's day."

Ingrid pursed her lips lightly, stopping herself from the gut instinct of telling him that he didn't have to buy her anything--she knew from experience now that he didn't like it when she said stuff like that, so she wouldn't. Christian was much more fun with his pride intact. Instead, she slowly drew her lips up into a smirk, taking the bag from his hand. "I love Honeydukes candy---you remembered," she broke off with a quiet laugh, recalling that was where they had met and suddenly the gift meant a thousand times more.

Let the other girls have their boyfriends that bought jewlery and roses and showered them in gifts and frills and pink rubbish on Valentine's; this was way better, in her opinion.

"Did you get what I sent you?" she asked. The prefects' system of sending out Valentine's gifts was bloody brilliant, and she'd made sure to use it to send along a batch of the cupcakes from Feast Your Eyes they'd been advertising. "Because I think the prefects used school owls, and to tell you the truth, I've always thought they were all plotting against me." Ingrid gave him a mock grave look, but it quickly broke back into a smile.

A nod bobbed his head as he once again wrapped both arms around her, glancing quickly at the hitwizard that had been eyeing their reunion with skeptical eyes. "Yea. They were great. Not the owl so much," and here he made a face; he never did much like the flying creatures, nor did they ever seem very fond of him, "but the cupcakes were brill. Really." He kissed the tip of her nose and, from the corner of his eye, caught sight of that bloody hitwizard making his way towards them again. He quirked a brow at her, made a subtle gesture over her shoulder, and muttered to her in very conspiritual manner, "Don't look now, but I think we're being watched."

He tucked an arm around her and began to lead her off down a sidestreet, playfully sneaking glances over his shoulder as he did so. "Don't worry. I'll protect you, madam."

Ingrid looked in the direction of the hitwizard---oy jaysus, he probably thought Christian was some kind of serial killer of something. A hilarious notion when you looked at him, but nonetheless the man was coming towards them and pulling her away and looking back was totally not helping them. She couldn't help but laugh about it, though, and put her arm around his middle, glancing back mock-surreptitiously as he moved her towards the back street.

The hitwizard was really following them now, and she picked up her pace once they were out of his sight, grabbing Christian's hand and breaking away to take the lead into the alley to their right. "Come on, it'll be fun to give him a stir," she said, taking a left now. Poor man was going to think they'd Apparated away and she was being murdered or something. But that's what he got for bothering her, so on the other hand, Ingrid really didn't have much mercy.

THe sound of footsteps quickened behind them, and he couldn't help but laugh as she drew him into another alley. He allowed her to drag him by the hand for a moment or two longer before he finally stopped her, drawing her to a short stop and dragging her unexpectedly into yet another tiny dead-ended alcove. He pressed a finger against his lips, that universal gesture for requesting quiet, and seconds later the hitwizard had passed their hiding spot at full run. Breathing a bit heavily, he chuckled and rested back against the wall, removing his hat with one yank of the garment and running a hand through his tangled hair.

"Running from hitwizards... what next, shall we rob Gringott's?" He was joking, of course, and leaned out to peer warily around for their persuer.

"Why, do you have a plan to?" Ingrid asked, doing her best to look completely serious. "I think if we slipped the goblins sleeping drafts, it shouldn't be too hard to get past them." She leaned back against the wall beside him, quickly breaking back into that smile she'd had just seconds before. Honestly, she tried to joke, tried to hold a face, but as cheesy as it sounded, Ingrid just couldn't help but smiling when she was around him. It was like he had her under a perpetual Cheering Charm or something, except she was pretty sure that even Cheering Charms couldn't quite replicate the butterfly feeling that just being near him put in her stomach.

It was amazing--thoughts of Christian always used to eventually lead to thoughts of her parents and what kind of a fit they were going to throw when they found out about him, but within the past couple of weeks, she hadn't felt that kind of inhibition at all. Some days, when she was feeling particularly daring, she had even thought of grabbing ink and quill and just writing home and telling all (thankfully, Greta always stopped her just in time). It was quickly transforming from something frighteningly taboo, to something that felt so right that no one could tell her it was wrong.

As she looked at him even now, Ingrid wondered at the fact that she was beginning to feel so comfortable about it all so quickly. There was something about him, something she couldn't quite pinpoint, but it made her feel like there was nothing more perfect in the world than how they were, right now.

"Oh, of course," he deadpanned, meeting her 'completely serious' expression with a feigned one of his own. "I've got it all planned out. And sleeping draft?" He broke character then, laughing and raising both brows at her. "If it was as easy as all that, there'd be more break-ins wouldn't you think?"

He pushed away from the wall and took her once more by the hand, only this time the walk back was leisurely instead of some make-believe hard-core chase through the backstreets of Hogsmeade. He tangled his fingers through hers, giving them a gentle squeeze as they strolled, curling his other fingers tight around his hat to resist the urge to pull her in for another kiss; they'd never emerge from the alley if they started! "So," he murmered, "since robbing high-security banks are clearly out of the question - at least for today - What would you like to do?"

"Darn it, and I was so hoping that we'd get to really bond over some illegal activities while I had you here," Ingrid joked, feeling a little rush of warmth surge through her from the touch of his hand, despite the biting cold outside. As they passed by Madame Puddifoot's, she mused upon his question. "Hm... well, I'm sure of one thing---I don't want to be caught dead in there," she said, tilting her head towards the sickeningly festive shop. It wasn't that Ingrid wasn't a festive person or anything like that, there was just a very fine line between festive and disgusting---which, tragically, many of the Hogwarts students crossed over and over.. and over and over.

They walked a bit further, looking inside all the shops and such, but none of them quite seemed to strike her interest. As they got near the end of the road, she stopped in front of him, smiling rather innocently as she shrugged. "You know, none of these places look like they can quite accomodate what I really want to do," she began, her voice dangerously insinuating.

He followed her gaze towards Madame Puddifoot's, an expression much akin to horror momentarily crossing his features as he took in the gaudy decorations of pink and red. He frowned and shook his head. "I'm with you on that, at least. Let's stay away from that, shall we?" And with that he used a palm at the small of her back to steer her in the opposite direction, leading her past stores that looked safer if only because they weren't dripping with cherubs and hearts. But they were quickly nearing the end of the road and still hadn't picked a destination when insinuating words came from her lips, drawing his attention quickly from a shop window to stare uncertainly at her face.

He stopped mid-stride, one brow levitating above the other as he turned slowly to face her. "Oh? And what might that be?"

Ingrid continued to give Christian her most innocent smile, but somehow managed to look completely devious in the process. "I have a hard time believing that after not seeing you for a month you have no bloody idea that all I want to do is snog you senseless," she told him. She reached out a hand, curling her fingers around the fabric between buttons at the front of his coat, and pulled him to close the two or so paces between them. "It's Valentine's Day, you tosser. But I don't want pink and frills and sugar, I just want you."

He broke into a bashful half-grin as he found himself pulled closer to her, his arms instinctively poised to wrap around her waist as the distance between them was effectively diminished. He lowered his face so that his lips were barely an inch from hers, grinning as his forehead inclined to rest against her own. Her words seemed to electrify him, sending a jolt through him that started in his stomach and quickly radiated throughout the rest of his body. He didn't say anything for a moment or two, simply stared at her, weighing what he should say.

He reached up and swept some of her hair from her cheek, drawing a shaky breath that, when expelled, carried with it quiet words. "You have me," he confessed. Snogging suddenly seemed like a very, very good idea; he kissed her softly, almost teasingly, still painfully aware that they were out in public.

His words made her heart jump inside her chest, and when he added the touch of his lips to that, she was quite certain that she could die. She drew in breath sharply through her nose as he kissed her, letting his scent wash over her--was there any better thing in the world than this? Well... doing this out of the public eye, she supposed. It wasn't like there weren't several other couples doing the exact same thing around the village, but--

--Somehow she managed to move them both without breaking the kiss, drawing him in-between the two buildings they had been standing in front of. It wasn't really a hidden area, but at least offered a deal more privacy than the middle of a road. "Hiding in alleyways again," she breathed out amusedly, before capturing his lips again, this time allowing no inhibitions to hold her back from filling the kiss with as much passion and fervor as she wanted.

He stumbled after her through the mouth of the alley, allowing himself a half-dazed smirk in response to her comment before he delved into their kiss, maneuvering them so that he was gently pinning her against the brick wall of one of the alley's walls. He didn't trust himself to speak, he wasn't sure that his voice wouldn't fail him completely.... but he was more than content to show her how he felt with his actions, trailing his kiss from her lips to the hollow of her throat and back again.

Their snogging grew more heated, his kisses more insistant and deep as the minutes ticked by. It wasn't very long at all before, in a glimpse of clarity, he caught himself with his hand trailing down the curve of her thigh and pried himself from her with a frustrated growl. THe fingertips that had been groping at her were suddenly used to press against his closed eyelids as he leaned against the wall to her side. "We... should stop." His voice was low and raw, his body on the verge of trembling.

Ingrid barely held in the quiet moan as he pulled away from her, the place where his hand had been moments before tingling in the remnant of the fire he'd trailed there with his touch. Even though he was still beside her, she felt very suddenly empty, and as if the harsh cold of the air outside were ten degrees colder. This was bloody torture, everything was torture. First it was that they didn't have time, that she had parents who expected her home, and then it was school, that she had to be at school in sodding Scotland for the majority of her life, and then when they finally did get the chance to be together, there was no privacy, and not only that, but being together in that sense was becoming a weird subject to approach because, bloody hell, they'd only been dating a month or so... oh yes, and that inescapable fact that they were awkwardly far apart in age.

She had known for a while that somewhere unvoiced, Christian was rather wary of the age difference. It was subtly evident in a lot of things, and she hated that, but knew she should be wary too. She just wished that they didn't have to be--or, well, that everything they had to worry about would go away. It was like half the world was against them, some days.

"I know..." she said, her breathing coming out a little heavier than normal as she tried to regain her composure. Ingrid squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her head back against the wall. "We can't keep going--god damnit--" She hadn't meant to curse aloud, but she did, and the frustrated and angry way it came out was all one needed to know what she really felt about this.

He still had his knuckles digging into his eyelids, colors exploding there in the darkness of his vision as he struggled to compose himself. Finally, with a sigh, he turned his head to look at her, his brows resting against the back of his hand. She certainly did have a colorful vocabulary, but instead of sounding vulgar it only served to add to her charm. He offered a weak, half-hearted grin before straightening, though his shoulders remained rounded as though bowed under a weight. "I'm sorry. It's just... you do something to me," he muttered. "You make me feel absolutely nutters. Like I'm going insane, yanno? I just... I don't want to do anything you'll regret, Ingrid."

Well, of course he wanted to. But that was besides the point. Christian wished this could be easier... the long periods between seeing each other only added to the undeniable sexual tension building between them. And, to be quite frank, he wasn't sure just how many more times he could be the stronger person and say no.

Ingrid sighed, silent for a few long moments, and then finally opened her eyes again and ran a hand back through blonde hair. "Don't apologize for---for... Jesus, Christian, you make me feel like I'm going crazy too. You--" she paused, but then decided that she should say what she meant; she had might as well tell him the truth of it "--you make me want to do something I'll regret."

She tilted her head to the side to look at him, the look in her eyes utterly hopeless. "I know it's probably the distance, it's probably the lack of time or a million other things making me feel like this, and maybe I wouldn't be going so crazy if I saw you every day--maybe. But I don't know that I wouldn't, and the truth is that right now I am and I--it just bloody kills me that you're being such a good person about this, because right now if you weren't, there'd be no stopping me."

"I'm not a good person," he said with a humorless laugh, sucking his bottom lip and worrying at it with his teeth. "A good person wouldn't be standing here regretting stopping it." Merlin, did he just say that? He jerked his gaze back up to meet her eye, a sort of sad, frustrated look residing there in those bottomless black pools. "I meant what I said, Ingrid. You have me. I don't know what you do to me, but... I can't get you out of my head. I put a pencil to paper now and all I can draw is your lips, your nose, your eyes, your silhouette... All I can think about is the way you smell and the way you taste. I'm not a good person." He swallowed harshly and glanced quickly off to the side. Even now, standing there, he just wanted to touch her again. He jammed his hands into his pockets to resist.

She opened her mouth to disagree with him, but very quickly shut it again. As she listened to his words, Ingrid looked somewhat past him, out into the street---and she realized quite suddenly exactly what to do about them, and what she needed to do before either of them really went insane and--and she just couldn't explain it, but suddenly exhiliration rushed through her and she was grabbing Christian's hand and pulling him off across the street.

It was a little inn that she took him up the steps of, called Novella's, and by the time was to the front desk, she already had her galleons out and on the counter. The person there looked suspiciously (and maybe slightly disapprovingly, but she really couldn't give a shit right now) at them, but handed her a key and muttered off a room number. Their destination was all the way down at the end of the hall, and as she led Christian there, determination and a frustrated impatience saturated her voice. "Come on, we're doing something about this before either of us starts to sound any more pathetic about it than we do right now," she told him, forcefully throwing the key into the lock.

No one said she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

He stumbled after her, completely and totally bewildered by her sudden behavior... confused beyond all good reason, he threw his head back just in time to read the sign hanging over the door of the building she was dragging him into. Realization struck him and he turned red at the cheeks, leaning over to hiss in her ear as she tossed the clerk some coins. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" His mouth felt suddenly very dry. She couldn't be thinking... oh Merlin, what if she was!? The uppity gentleman behind the counter seemed to know exactly what was going on, judging by the disapproving glare he offered along with their key.

"Ingrid. No. This is.... this is insane!" But she was already marching off down the hall, with or without him it seemed, and he hurried after her, nervously smoothing down his hair as she jammed the key into the lock. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" But it was no use, clearly. She was bull-headed, almost obnoxiously so... typical Gryffindor indeed! And there he was, left to gape after her, staring at the room like he expected a bolt of lightning to strike him dead where he stood. "C'mon, I'm sure we can get you your money back," he grumbled, glancing back in the direction of the moody host, feeling not just a little humiliated by the whole thing. Not only was this a clear test of his conscience (one he was going to fail, he was sure), but she was bossing him around about it!

But she stood her ground.

Ingrid spun around on Christian, glaring at him because apparently he thought this was some sort of joke, which it was very well not. She pushed the door open and stood there just inside, arms crossed over her chest and looking as if not even the strongest man in the world would be able to move her from her spot. "You can leave if you want to, but I'm very bloody well not going to," she said, arching her brown at him. "I know exactly what I'm doing--I think the question is if you know."

She was lucky she was so stubborn, because any other girl might have been downright embarrassed in a situation like this. But bloody hell, she knew exactly what she wanted and it had never been like her to just let it go. "You can be good and honorable all you like, Christian Entwhistle, but the hell if it's not the most goddamn frustrating thing to endure. You regret that you stopped what was happening back there? Well fine, I'm giving you a chance to stop regretting. I already told you what I want and that stands, I don't care if you think it's stupid or I have no idea what I'm talking about---I still want it."

He stood completely abashed in the face of her tyrade... his blank expression darkened quite considerably when she was done, his jaw tensing as he digested everything he'd just had to listen to. Glaring at her, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, a humorless snort offered in her direction. "Don't fucking patronize me, like that," he seethed. "'S bad enough you drag me in here without so much and discussing it with me, first! Bloody Christ," he seethed, tossing his hat onto a nearby table and wringing his fingers through the hair above his brow. "You're infuriating, you know that? I'm not sure if you're aware, but sometimes it isn't always about what you want!"

His lips pressed into a thin line as he slowly lowered his hands to his hips, standing there, gaze averted to the window, clearly lost in thought. This was probably why Gryffindors and Ravenclaws didn't generally make the best of couples, he mused. He had been so close to yelling at her and calling her a spoiled kid. That would have really ruined everything. But she was just so... reckless! And stubborn! And loud! And before he could list another negative thing about her he had closed the distance between them and taken her face between her hands, kissing her with all the pent up frustration and passion he felt for her.

"What I want?" she looked at him, shocked. "What I want? So---so what was that talk out there, that 'You have me', that---are you fucking kidding me, Christian! You think I would have dragged you in here if you hadn't... Fucking hell, say what you mean, don't just tell me what you think I want to hear--don't spew to me lines of crap when it's stuff like that, I really thought you---"

She had about a million words more to say when she was shut up immediately by a pair of lips crushed against her own. All of a sudden, it was like he had wiped her mind of all the thoughts she had had lined up to fire at him and all that was left in her was the ability to move her body, to bring her arms to wrap around him in a fierce grip and to move her mouth against his own, attempting to take in every single inch of him all at once.

That wasn't what he'd meant, of course... he'd meant to say that what you want isn't the same as what you should do, but alas, Christian had never been very good with words. Give him a pencil and a canvas and he was brilliant, but speaking? Not exactly a strong point. But his mouth wasn't entirely useless. As a matter of fact, he was having very little trouble conveying just what he was feeling and thinking with his lips right now, tongue and tiers moving together to devour hers.

This was wrong. Those three words echoed in his head again and again, even as he was gently maneuvering her towards the bed and her shirt buttons (was that her school, uniform? Merlin...) were yielding under his fingertips. But just one glimpse at the creamy expanse of bare flesh revealed by the parting fabric silenced the mantra from his mind, and with a defeated groan he pried his mouth from hers to trail slow, agonizing kisses down her throat to the sweep of collarbone now exposed to him.

She could have forgiven him a thousand times over for the argument of seconds ago just based on what his mouth was doing alone. As the back of Ingrid's knees hit the bed, she leaned back onto the soft comforter, pulling him down with her by his shirt, which had quickly come off over his head the second they had broken lips. Her head hit a pillow somewhere, tilting back into it as her back arched slightly into him in response to his kisses. She ran her hands through his hair, fingers tangling in the dark curls, until she could take no more of the torturously slow way that he was moving.

Ingrid pulled him back up from where he had been, fingers releasing from his hair to trail down his bare back, lightly dragging her nails the whole way across, until they found the waistband of his trousers. She slipped a hand in, running it from back to front, and kissed him again, unable to keep away from him for too long. Maybe this was wrong, maybe he had been right the first time and they shouldn't be doing this, but if it was, if you told her that this was something she was going to regret, she'd never believe you. Not now.

His breath audibly caught when her hand slipped beneath the waist of his pants, the arms suspending him over her tensing as he muffled a low grunt against her throat. He felt fire spread through every limb in his body as he shed her now-opened shirt to either side of her, effectively wrestling the garment from her arms before one of his was used to wrap around her so that he could fumble momentarily with the clasp to her bra. He took great care in peeling the flimsy thing from her chest, kissing almost every exposed area of skin left in its wake until he finally tossed it, discarded, to the side.

He removed her hand from down his pants with some great reluctance,repositioning himself beside her and slowly sliding one hand over the impossible softness of her skin, starting at her throat and working its way down, over her breasts and stomach until he finally arrived at the clasp of her skirt, which he made relatively short work of; it joined the bra and their shirts on the floor. He looked at her then, taking in every inch of her now-exposed body, his throat struggling to swallow as a trembling hand was poised to gratify and acquaint itself with these new unexplored areas. "God, Ing," he whispered, his voice little more than a strained moan.

He didn't stop until he had thoroughly kissed and satisfied nearly every inch of her from the neck down that could be kissed and satisfied. Pulling himself back up to eye level with her, it was then that he began to remove his own pants, the rise and fall of his bare chest slightly faster than usual. Once he was as nude as she, he laid carefully back beside her, curling a strand of her hair around his finger. "We don't have to do this," he whispered, trying to look as genuine as he could. That was his last attempt at being a good guy.

She smiled quietly at Christian, eyes going from watching his finger in her hair to taking in his face and the expression on it as he spoke. He did look genuine, and for all that she'd said earlier about how frustrating it was that he tried to be the good guy like he was now, it was one of his more endearing qualities. Really, she did appreciate that he took her and what this meant to her into account. It was sweet, and he was a sweet guy and Merlin she was so bloody attracted to him for it.

Ingrid brushed the back of her hand along his forehead, pushing away the dark hair that seemed to perpetually hang just over his eyes. "I know," she told him softly. Despite all her reckless childishness with which she'd taken this situation before, she wasn't here on just a whim. Somewhere inside she knew that this was what she really, really wanted, and that this was exactly what they needed right now. It was shocking and slightly scary how powerful the all-over realization of that was, but there was no denying the truth of it in her mind.

Her hand moved to his cheek, cupping it as she placed a gentle, soft kiss on his lips, in stark contrast to the ones they'd been sharing just seconds earlier. She pulled back but kept her forehead pressed against his, her next words no more than a breath. "But I also know I need you right now."

It was all he needed to hear. He kissed her softly again, whispering against her lips as he drew her into his arms. "I need you, too." And he was certain that he did. He was very careful when he shifted to rest between her legs, long fingers sliding down the underside of one of her thighs from her hip as he positioned himself at her entrance. He looked down at her, as he slowly, gently rocked his hips forward against hers, inhaling sharply through his nostrils and letting his tongue graze her bottom lip as he entered her.

He gave her a moment to adjust before he began to set a pace, his ragged breathing giving way to a soft, gutteral moan of her name. His hands reached for her wrists, tugging them with gentle insistance to rest on the pillow above her head, tangling the fingers of his left hand with hers while his right lowered to her breast, fingers gently serving to once again toy with its tip. He felt like every nerve ending in his body was electrified and alive; he rested his forehead against hers as he continued to move with and within her, still holding her hands against the pillows. This was far from being Christian's first time, but he had never, not once in his life, experienced anything like this.

Ingrid's breathing came heavily with each forward motion he made against her, accentuated by a low moan, each deep breath pressing their chests flat together and allowing her to feel the quick-paced beating of his heart. She couldn't tell, but was sure hers was racing just as fast, this very moment taking her up and far over anything she'd ever felt before. The fingers of the hand tangled in his tensed and relaxed in time with the now synchronized movements of their bodies, the other bunching in the fabric of the pillowcase as she closed her eyes and let the building feeling of warmth and indescribable peaking come over her.

Moments went by and she could begin to feel a thin layer of sweat, slicking their bodies against each other as the moment built up almost palpably around them, and within their own little world here on the bed. And then she felt it, like a burst of everything that she had experiencing up until this point all at once, and the sheer power of it caused her to gasp sharply, her back arching up off the bed. Ingrid's hand squeezed his tighter than before for one long moment as they seemed frozen, suspended in time---and then it was over, slowly ebbing away just as she slowly lowered her trembling body back onto the sheets, feeling blissfully drained and happy.

A hoarse cry was choked in his throat as he came moments after her, free arm wrapping around her tiny waist and holding her close as she arched into him. His face plunged into the shallow dip of her shoulder as his pale shoulders shuddered with the force of his climax, his breathing escaping raggedly from gaping mouth as he slowly drifted back to earth, basking in the afterglow. He laid there for about a moment more before rolling from atop of her, his fingers detatching themselves from hers as he settled down next to her in their rented bed, his arms immediately extended to gather her into them and pull her against his chest. Blankets were then ransacked and pulled messily up around them in a sort of cocoon.

This was heaven. He was sure of it. He'd never felt something so perfect and right and connected in his entire life. He sighed and kissed the crown of her head, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her hip.