Room 6620, Afternoon

[lady_bols]

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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[lady_bols]

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.'

[the_gene_genie]

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.'

[lady_bols]

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.

[the_gene_genie]

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.

[lady_bols]

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.

[the_gene_genie]

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.

[lady_bols]

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.

[the_gene_genie]

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...'

[lady_bols]

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.

[the_gene_genie]

It's a desperate last few seconds for him, trying so hard to let her finish first. But he can't hold it - his mind flashes images of her with her mouth wrapped around his cock, and that's the end of it. He buries himself in her as far as he can, over and over, until he can't move, locked in her as the peak hits and he's gone, lost in the haze of his pleasure pulsing out into her.

[lady_bols]

The sweet tension snaps and she breaks with it, shards of light behind her eyes and the sound of her own voice loud in her ears. She quakes with the strength of it, her hips still grinding slow circles, chasing the last strands of fire as they sweep through her from head to toe.

Gradually, it lets her go and she sighs, sagging against him, smiling as their sweat mingles. She presses her lips, soft as air, against his earlobe, drifting on the slow spiral back to earth.

[the_gene_genie]

He slides his arms around her back, and locks them there. It's about as much effort as he can manage after that.

'Mmm,' he says, a quiet sound of appreciation. His eyes close so he can enjoy the aftermath in peace. This is getting to be his favourite part of the day, doing this.

[lady_bols]

He wraps his arms around her and her eyes fall closed, this simple gesture of affection far more powerful than she'd ever imagined it could be. She nuzzles his cheek, pulling up just enough to find his mouth. Soft kisses still, in lieu of words.

But only for a moment, and then she's relaxing again, trying to find a place where her arms are comfortable without giving up her place astride him. Her head rests on his shoulder, and she doesn't seem to be in any hurry to move or speak or break this spell in any way.

[the_gene_genie]

'S'good.'



'Y'OK?

[lady_bols]

'Mmmm, wonderful. You?'

[the_gene_genie]

'Mmmm.'





'Bols?'

[lady_bols]

'Yes?'

[the_gene_genie]

'Need a drink, luv.'


And a fag, but he's thinking that'd go down even less well.

[lady_bols]

She sighs, and with much effort, pushes herself up to sitting.

'I see how you are,' she says, hands raking her hair back from her face, and if that makes her tits stand up proud then, okay. There may be an edge of playfulness in her voice, but there's also a look in her eye. One that lets him know, she's reluctant to give up this closeness so quickly.

[the_gene_genie]

His lips pout as he stares at her tits - if they're on display like that, no way he's not going to look - and he raises his eyebrows.

'Like what?'

He taps her bum lightly, because nope, the Scotch isn't getting any closer while he's still inside her.

[lady_bols]

'Love them and leave them. The man, the myth, the legend, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him.' She bends to catch his mouth again, using the kiss to distract from the awkward moment of separation. A moment later, she's rolling onto her back, sinking into the pillows and stretching.

'And me, just another notch on your bedpost.'

Okay, now she's teasing. They've been through hell to get here. And he told her, he's not going anywhere. She just has to believe that the universe will play along. She has to believe it, or else she'll go mad, again.

[the_gene_genie]

'An' don't you forget it, sweet'eart.'

He smirks cheekily, and rolls too, so he can press a kiss to her lips. And another.

'I'll just forget about the 'leaving' part for now. As long as you don't tell anyone.'

Another kiss. The novelty of being able to do that will last a while. But then he moves away, because wow, he needs that drink. He stretches when he's standing, adjusts the crown jewels a bit, and ambles over to the Scotch and cigs.

'You want one?'

[lady_bols]

'Mmm, no thanks,' she purrs, rolling and stretching out across the bed, arms reaching over her head and toes pointed. It's one of those shaking stretches, her eyes closed and every inch of her body pulled taut. A moment later, she relaxes, a long appreciate sigh on her lips.

'Is there any of that champagne left?'

[the_gene_genie]

'Yeah. It's probably flat, though.'

He knocks a double measure down his throat, and sighs with the satisfaction. Then pours another, lights a smoke and pulls the champagne from the cooled water that used to be ice. He puts some in a glass for her anyway. If she wants to risk it, it's her choice.

[lady_bols]

She reaches up to take the glass without sitting up.

'Doesn't matter,' she says, never taking her eyes off him.

Flat champagne with him is a luxury she never thought she'd enjoy. It's manna from heaven as far as she's concerned.