lady_bols | Room 6620, Afternoon

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Room 6620, Afternoon

There's a knock at the door. Someone is politely, quietly knocking on her door. It can't be Gene then. He always uses his fist, even at 3am in the morning. She opens one eye, and realizes, she's not in the flat above Luigi's.

For one, Gene is behind her. And completely starkers, pressed against her from nape to knee, snoring quietly in her ear. A grin spreads across her face, and she stretches, not quite willing to leave the comfort of the bed yet.

'Just leave it there, we'll get it in a minute. Thanks.' She hopes whoever is out there can hear her voice, because she's not going to shout and wake him. She also makes a mental note to tip the rat very well when he brings dinner.

It's impossible to move much at all without waking him. So she gives him another moment, content just to enjoy the feel of lying in his arms.

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Her hand moves in gentle counterpoint, at least when she's taking him in long strokes. Her eyes fall closed, and she pauses to rub that fleshy head over her lips. He rumbles and she answers, a soft, breathless moan. She looks up at him, watching his face, listening to his body, above all, wanting this to be good for him.

That doesn't mean she's above teasing him a little. Letting her tongue press and flicker over that sweet spot, her thumb and forefinger drawing tight around his shaft as she presses down. She takes what she's learned the last few days, and investigates a few new avenues. It's pure decadence, taking him like this, and she's loving every moment of it.

His head falls back finally, and he shuts his eyes again so he can savour the delicious tension of her firm lips suckling him. Her tongue flicks fire up his nerves, and he sucks air in over his teeth.

He feels exposed like this, leaning away from her but it only adds to the sensation. He's not used to being passive, but it's not such a bad feeling like this. A few minutes later, and he puts a hand on the base of his stomach, scratching lightly with his nails over skin that he'd never admit is sensitive, though the groan will tell its own story. And he starts moving now, pushing up into her mouth in a steady rocking motion, encouraging more.

Oh there's a new one, she thinks. One hand pets up over his hip, pushing her nails through the course hair, again, following his lead. She's still drawing him along slowly, taking turns between suckling and licking a hot stripe up the strong ridge of his cock, from the base to the very tip.

She even takes a detour, wet kisses straying down to the soft skin of his bollocks, her tongue swirling over them, seeing if he enjoys that, too.

It's a whole new sensation, trying to find her way beneath his defences like this. A whole new push and pull, and haven't they always been good at push and pull?

He freezes as soon as she starts on his balls, and there's another moan that's not so quiet. Safe to say, he likes that. Even more than just liking the idea of her playing with them, and that's always featured quite prominently when he's thought about this. He opens his eyes, and brings his head up to watch, his face crumpling when he gets the visual he's only imagined until now.

'Bloody.

Hell.'

On automatic, he covers her hand with his and squeezes it a bit tighter, just to notch the hot pulse a little higher.

She follows his lead, just as before, taking over with that tighter grip, licking her way back up his length like he was a giant lolly and she had an insatiable sweet tooth. His quiet exclamation makes her smile, and she holds his gaze as she presses him to her lips again, making a grand show of taking him in, one centimetre at a time, holding him firm the entire time. Deliberately teasing him isn't really her objective.

She justreally wants to hear him make that noise again.

She gets that noise, and a few more. A few swear words whispered in among the fast pull of air into his lungs, his eyes riveted on her mouth as she sucks him in slowly. The look on her face is doing him in - who could have guessed she'd love it like this? And she knows exactly what she's doing, forcing him to keep focused on her face and her mouth. He feels the underside of his length resting over her tongue, and a burst of arousal at the sensation yanks another moan from him. He moves his hand to her head, not pressuring but just resting in her hair, so she knows he doesn't want her to back off.

'Faster, sweet'eart. More.'

Her eyes smile up at him, and she does as he asks, almost. Just a little faster, just a little harder. Her eyes closer for a moment at the feel of his hand in her hair, but she doesn't want to miss a single moment. Her mouth pulls at him, strong and insistent now, the steady heartbeat pulse of her tongue right where he needs it.

All the while, her free hand roams, nails grazing his skin, over his hip and across his lower stomach; down between his thighs, lightly stroking over the ruched flesh of his bollocks. She's determined, focused, and above all else, relentless.

It's her tongue that's killing him, so soft and wet and curled around the spot where he needs it most. His mouth drops open, fast breaths pulled into a tight chest and the hand tightens in her hair.

'Bolly.'

He's hurtling towards the end, and almost can't form the words he has to.

'Stop.'

The moment she feels his hand tighten, she freezes, relinquishing her prize with great reluctance.

'What's wrong?' Concern gives her voice an edge, and her expression reflects the fear that she's done something to bollocks this up, too.

'Nothing.'

He pulls a pained smile, and tries to usher her upwards.

'Just nearly there, that's all.'

Edited 2012-07-22 21:48 (UTC)

'Oh. Right.'

Still confused, but eager to continue, she plants one last lingering kiss right on the crown, and then makes her way up his body. She's still wet from the shower, and that only seems to make this all the more decadent. Her mouth marks a line of soft kisses back up his torso, her hands urging him to lie back so she can rise above him, straddling his thighs, careful not to touch him too much. Her voice is honey dark when she murmurs against his chest,

'Need a moment?'

'Mmm.'

He's happy just to lie back and breathe for a second. But not much longer when her body's there for the touching. He runs his hands down the curve of her hips - one stays there, while the other slips between her legs, gently seeking out her clit.

'Always knew you'd have a filthy mouth on you.'

'I do not, mm, have a filthy mouth. I have a talented, loving mouth.' She has to pause when he starts exploring, her head dropping to rest against his shoulder. Her hips rock against his hand, and she bites back a quiet moan.

'And you have a cock that deserves my attentions.'

'See? Filth.'

All be it a different kind. He's not sure women should ever use the word 'cock'. He's smiling though, a touch smug, obviously appreciative of the compliment.

'If you give him a minute to calm down, he might give,' his fingers explore lower, pressing into her just a little bit, 'this some attention. If you're lucky.'

The heel of his hand presses over her clit, making sure she'll be ready. He wants nothing more than to give that all the attention in the world, over and over, constantly, always.

Another tight, quiet moan slips from somewhere deep in her throat, and her teeth fix in her lower lip. Her body presses back, instinct and desire taking over.

'Oh, if I'm lucky, hmm?' She forces herself to lift her head, to find his mouth again. Her breath is ragged against his lips, and her kiss is hungry, almost desperate. One hand presses over his heart again, pinning him to the bed while the other grabs his wrist, pulling it from between them. She doesn't want anything in the way when she sinks down and traps his cock between their body, painting her wet heat along his length.

'What if I don't want you to calm down? What if, I want to feel everything you're holding back?'

'Be the best twenty seconds of your life.'

He hisses quietly as she slides down, and he makes no move to push against the hand pinning him. He's quite liking the way she takes control. But he's also pretty sure that letting himself give her everything he's holding back would be a bad idea.

His hands move to her hips, encouraging the way she's moving over him. His lips pout as the excitement flares all over again, making him ache for her.

'C'mon, luv.'

She rocks against him, keeping him close, reveling in the feel of him, slippery and hot against her cleft. Another kiss, and this one lingers, her breasts grazing his chest.

'I want you.' Her voice is barely more than a whisper, as if she's afraid to speak such a powerful truth out loud. 'I want you so much, love.'

He groans helplessly, torn between loving the anticipation and needing her to finish him off. His kiss is just as desperate as hers was a moment ago, before melting into something long, and slow, and deep.

'Then take it, sweet'eart.'

She growls, softly, trying to listen to what his kiss is telling her and not his words. Sometimes he has all the sensitivity of a blind rhinoceros, and she doesn't know why she expected that to change once their clothes came off. Luckily for him, that kiss is convincing her this isn't just a physical desire; she remembers his words from before, and pours herself into this one simple touch.

Gradually, her hips dip and rise, until she catches him just so. It doesn't take much at all to press down, just enough. Her face crumples with the intensity of it, and her whole body shudders as he slips into her again. She doesn't stop until he's sheathed in her entirely, and her weight is resting against his hips.

Her lips part, but there are no words. Only her hot breath against his lips, and the pulse of her heart all around him.

He groans again, and can only stay still and take it. If he moves too much, he might go too far; the feeling of her arse pressed against his swollen bollocks is already a mental image that threatens to overwhelm.

His hands run up her sides and back down, and he holds her still as he pushes up as best he can. Once again, he's just praying he can make this last long enough for it to be good for her too.

She can feel the tension in him, and she loves the way his fingertips dig into the flesh of her hips. He pushes up, and she grinds on him, fitted so tight she barely needs to move at all to get all the pressure right where she needs it.

She buries her face against his neck, and her breath hitches every time his hips rise. For both of them, she knows it won't be long at all.

He fights to control his breathing, because as soon as that's gone he won't be able to stop himself. She grinds, and he sucks in air; she does it again and he forces it out slow. Her mouth near his neck sends tingles of arousal flaring through his skin, and he squeezes his eyes shut, chest shuddering a little as he presses up into her again. His heartbeat throbs between his legs, trapped in the heat of her body and he just wants to get lost in there. Nothing else matters.

Eyes closed, she breathes him in, as if she could take all of him into her, as if she could pull him into the embrace of her heart. Her mouth finds his skin, tasting his sweat, feeling the pounding of his pulse against her lips. Strong and slow now, the urgency gone for the moment, soothed by the feel of him fitted close and the press and release of his hips.

He told her to take, and she does just that, her hips scribing powerful arcs, letting the waves of pleasure take her farther away with every passing moment.

She's slowing into a rhythm, so she obviously wants it to last. He talks to himself; Man City's League Cup wining team, by order of squad number, most capped England players, highest transfer rates through the last ten years....but she's right there, her sweat and her breath and her hair over his face. He tries to stay slow, really tries, but he can't stop the urgency of his thrusts, the yearning to be as deep in her as he can get, like he could paint himself on her bones. He tries, but it's no good.

'Alex. Gonna...'

She rises with him, caught up in the rhythm, the pulse of his hips driving her towards the inevitable. She tries to make it last as long as possible, every touch lingering, every breath full of nothing but his scent, his heat.

The moment he utters her name, she shudders, nodding against his temple. She wants to answer, but all that comes out is a plaintive sound, half moan, half plea. Her body knows what it needs, and she couldn't stop now if she wanted to, and she doesn't want to. Her thighs tremble, waves of sensation making it hard to breathe, hard to think. He keeps up the pressure and she can't hold back anymore. There is no thought, save him.

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