[ the door opens and shuts and Rachel actually tries to get off the bed, despite the fact that she's been trying for the past few minutes. so she whines, scooting back up again so her wrist isn't handing awkwardly from the cuff, and- well okay, there were little designs and patterns along her arms and legs and stomach, but they're mostly smudged now, and there's shimmery gold paint all over her sheets, which are kind of also a mess now, and the room probably smells strongly of pineapple at this point, but all she cares about is- ]
Key. Key, key, key.
[ she's even reaching with her free hand, like she didn't send him a picture before, and that he needs to be shown. ]
Oh, gods, I'm-
[ there isn't really a word for how turned on she is right now, and it's not like she's feeling phantom hands or something weird, but it does feel like she's being teased, in a way, stimulation from nothing. it's confusing and crazy ]
no subject
Key. Key, key, key.
[ she's even reaching with her free hand, like she didn't send him a picture before, and that he needs to be shown. ]
Oh, gods, I'm-
[ there isn't really a word for how turned on she is right now, and it's not like she's feeling phantom hands or something weird, but it does feel like she's being teased, in a way, stimulation from nothing. it's confusing and crazy ]
Stiles, please.