[ Heathcliff didn't get much of anything im that mansion, never mind practical experience, but if he dwells in what he lost, in what he can't do, he'll end up even worse than Hindley. Fuck that.
Which is why Heathcliff focuses harder than he has in his life, listens to Ishmael and follows along in a way he's never followed along with one of her pamphlet tirades. This is practical, is the thing: rules don't mean much to him, getting his hands dirty is how he learns.
Dirty, huh. Heathcliff's eyebrows pinch and he looks as though he's either reading a very difficult book or threading a very tiny needle, but he's being gentle, inasmuch as he can be gentle. It's a bit fumbly, but when he hears her breath catch and her folds tense — and isn't that actually batshit, that he's pleasuring anyone, much less Ishmael — he pauses, frowns, but does the same motion again, and again, adjusting and massaging until he can feel his fingers slip a bit too much to realistically keep going. Is this dirty? Probably, if he can figure out how to get her going...
And then she puts his hand on her breast and he nearly snatches it away, a reflex from years and years of being a dirty Backstreets mongrel, but like, not a completely rubbish human being, relatively. He scowls. Of course he's allowed to touch there now, he just... he just needs a second to adjust. ]
Fuck. Warn a chap, why don't you.
[ He continues to grumble, but he doesn't make eye contact, much too busy finding out that holy fucking Wings her chest is soft. He cannot multitask at the moment, so he takes a break from fingering her to squish her boob slightly, watching the way her freckles stretch and squish.
Don't think about it too much. Go by instinct. Heathcliff, being an actual animal, thinks: I wonder how this would feel in my mouth. And because he's decided to take her lead, for once, this means he tries it. Granted, it's a very gentle thing, just under the nipple, more out of curiosity than any deliberate plan to catch her off guard, but he does lick, and he does suck, and there are teeth. He makes a thoughtful noise, releases her, then does it again, this time directly over her nipple. That should be different, right...? The relative stiffness of her nipple is an interesting difference on his tongue, so naturally, he licks it again.
As he figures out the boob situation, his cock swells with his interest where it lays just on top of her clit. Unintentionally, he rolls his hips, pressing against her slit, more rocking than grinding, but it's still enough to work his cock between her folds, even if the tip is nowhere near inside. At least it's very rigid and hot, slicking easily from the wet between Ishmael's legs. It should be nice, even if it's only pressed against her instead of all the way inside. He'll get around to it as soon as he's done with sucking at her breasts, promise. ]
no subject
Which is why Heathcliff focuses harder than he has in his life, listens to Ishmael and follows along in a way he's never followed along with one of her pamphlet tirades. This is practical, is the thing: rules don't mean much to him, getting his hands dirty is how he learns.
Dirty, huh. Heathcliff's eyebrows pinch and he looks as though he's either reading a very difficult book or threading a very tiny needle, but he's being gentle, inasmuch as he can be gentle. It's a bit fumbly, but when he hears her breath catch and her folds tense — and isn't that actually batshit, that he's pleasuring anyone, much less Ishmael — he pauses, frowns, but does the same motion again, and again, adjusting and massaging until he can feel his fingers slip a bit too much to realistically keep going. Is this dirty? Probably, if he can figure out how to get her going...
And then she puts his hand on her breast and he nearly snatches it away, a reflex from years and years of being a dirty Backstreets mongrel, but like, not a completely rubbish human being, relatively. He scowls. Of course he's allowed to touch there now, he just... he just needs a second to adjust. ]
Fuck. Warn a chap, why don't you.
[ He continues to grumble, but he doesn't make eye contact, much too busy finding out that holy fucking Wings her chest is soft. He cannot multitask at the moment, so he takes a break from fingering her to squish her boob slightly, watching the way her freckles stretch and squish.
Don't think about it too much. Go by instinct. Heathcliff, being an actual animal, thinks: I wonder how this would feel in my mouth. And because he's decided to take her lead, for once, this means he tries it. Granted, it's a very gentle thing, just under the nipple, more out of curiosity than any deliberate plan to catch her off guard, but he does lick, and he does suck, and there are teeth. He makes a thoughtful noise, releases her, then does it again, this time directly over her nipple. That should be different, right...? The relative stiffness of her nipple is an interesting difference on his tongue, so naturally, he licks it again.
As he figures out the boob situation, his cock swells with his interest where it lays just on top of her clit. Unintentionally, he rolls his hips, pressing against her slit, more rocking than grinding, but it's still enough to work his cock between her folds, even if the tip is nowhere near inside. At least it's very rigid and hot, slicking easily from the wet between Ishmael's legs. It should be nice, even if it's only pressed against her instead of all the way inside. He'll get around to it as soon as he's done with sucking at her breasts, promise. ]