Elite: Kitty Pryde & Rogue — Skin Contact (350 photos) (Patreon)

They stopped pretending the gloves mattered once the rest of the house went quiet.

Rogue kept hers on. The black ones with the spiked cuffs stayed, one hand resting on Kitty’s hip, the other braced against the back of the couch. Kitty took hers off. She set the black leather aside and pressed her bare palm to the side of Rogue’s throat, just under the choker. Nothing pulled. No drain. Rogue’s eyes half-closed and she leaned into it, purple lipstick catching the low light when she smiled.

They stayed close on the cushions. Rogue’s green mesh top was already thin enough that Kitty’s fingers could feel the heat of her through it. Kitty’s pink cardigan hung open, the yellow top underneath pushed up so Rogue’s gloved hand could slide under the hem and rest against bare skin. Kitty kissed her first. Slow. Rogue answered by tilting her head and deepening it, one gloved hand sliding higher under the cardigan while Kitty’s bare fingers moved down over the mesh and settled at her waist.

Rogue’s short leather skirt shifted when she moved. Kitty’s jeans stayed low on her hips. Neither of them bothered fixing anything. Rogue’s gloved thumb dragged along the edge of Kitty’s jeans. Kitty’s bare hand slipped under the mesh at Rogue’s side and stayed there, palm flat, skin to skin. Rogue made a low sound against her mouth and pulled her closer until their bodies lined up. The kiss turned wetter. Kitty’s other hand found Rogue’s thigh above the stockings and stayed, fingers spreading when Rogue shifted into the touch.

They kept trading. Rogue’s gloved hands mapped Kitty’s waist and the soft skin above her jeans. Kitty’s bare hands stayed on Rogue—throat, side, the curve of her hip under the leather. Every place Kitty touched stayed safe. Rogue never pulled back. She only pressed in closer, choker catching against Kitty’s jaw when she kissed down the side of her neck, then back up again.

The gloves Kitty had taken off stayed on the arm of the couch. Rogue’s stayed on her hands. Neither of them moved to change that. The lamp kept the room soft and the cushions kept them close, and for once the contact didn’t have to stop.

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