lady_bols | Room 6620, Afternoon

The firmest of his attentions makes her go rigid with tension, eyes scrunched shut, breath held as she focuses entirely on that single point of bliss. With his soft kisses in counterpoint, she sags, gasping for breath, moaning, her hands fisting in the sheets.

Her body responds, just as surely and obviously as his does, warm honey flowing freely. She lifts her hips to press against his mouth, trying to find the rhythm of his teasing, but it's not there yet. Coherent thought is not an option right now. He's fulfilling a long-held fantasy of hers, one she never in a million years thought would happen, and all she can do is lie here and take it.

His eye close when she lifts up; all he can do is keep pressing his tongue where she needs it, drunk on the taste of her and the sound of her moans. He'd been playing when he started, but he never thought she'd respond like this. He braces on one arm and without thinking, brings the other hand up and uses the fingertips to stroke where she's most wet. Never mind her; it makes him groan, because that's what he's been dreaming of, getting in there.

He's finding out all sorts of things about her now. For one, she's very vocal in bed, every new sensation telegraphed back to him in incoherent syllables, breathless cries drawn up from somewhere deep and primal. For another, all it takes is the barest touch to evoke a response, one that shudders through her entire frame.

Her hands stretch over her head to hold onto the edge of the mattress, and she's biting her lip, trying to keep some semblance of composure, but it's impossible. Not with the feel of his voice vibrating against her, and the promise of that teasing fingertip. Another flicker of his tongue, and she might shatter into a thousand pieces.

She gets more than one flicker of his tongue, because he's not stopping for anything. Driving her now, insistent, and he didn't mean for it to go like this but he can't stop himself from slipping his fingers inside of her. She's so wet, and he groans against her, breathless and uncoordinated now, pressing deep and licking fast, knowing she's close.

'Yes yes yes yes yes yes...'

Her body quakes, whatever rhythm she might have grasped lost just as quickly to sensory overload. Her breath stutters and then she holds it, her spine curling as the pleasure takes her. Every long muscle in her body trembles, and when it hits a peak, she gasps, crying out, her cunt gripping him with hard pulses at the point of no return. It feels like she's coming apart, all sense of self obliterated, and all she can do is hold on, trusting him to keep going and not let her go.

His head snaps back when she starts to come, because he has to breathe and he has to see her face. His fingers don't stop pushing but his gaze is fixed on her expression, a flash of triumph exploding in his chest. He didn't fail, and she's just as gorgeous as he thought she'd be when she comes. He couldn't see anything last night; now he has to see everything.

When it feels like the peak is starting to fade, he leans in again and gives her one more kiss, before nuzzling at the base of her abdomen.

That was worth waiting for.

Her hands are shaking when she reaches for him, urging him up her body.

'Come here, love.'

Her body is still rippling with aftershocks, and her breath is loud in her ears.

He grins, and slides up her, pulling his hand free but leaving it resting on the inside of her thigh.

'Forgot to tell you,' he murmurs, pausing at her breasts, 'I'm a whore in the bedroom.'

Well. By the standards of his day, maybe.

'What on earth -- are you talking about?'

One hand wipes at his chin and she's pulling him close, trying to steal a kiss.

'Don' matter.'

Yeah, that smile isn't going anywhere any time soon, though it goes a little tight when she pulls him close. His erection presses against her inner thigh, but he ignores it for now and gives her the kiss she wants.

'Good?'

She nods, still a bit glassy eyed, breathing his breath, taking in the scent of her sex and his own musk.

'For you?'

What a stupid question, Alex. But she needs time to gather the strands of her consciousness again, so she can focus on him and his needs.

He snorts, and nips at her jaw.

''course.'

How could he not enjoy that? And how could he not by hyper-aware of her now, warm and come-happy underneath him. He presses forward a bit,and shifts, and then hisses as the swollen head of his cock nudges her warmth.

'...still wanna wait, Alex?'

His mouth lands on hers, maybe just a tinge of desperation there.

's'OK if you do.'

She smiles at the question, already shifting to accommodate him. Her hands skim over his chest, down around his ribs, over his hips. The whole while she's kissing him, or what she can reach of him, purring under her breath.

'I think I'm done waiting. How about you?'

One hand finds his prick, and draws the crown along her slit, wetness against wetness, answering him with shuddering breath at the intensity of the sensation.

'Daft mare.'

With what she's got in her hand, she really shouldn't need to ask. But her words still set off a small bomb of nerves and excitement in his belly, and he hesitates. Just for a second. This has been a long time coming.

'Sure?'

Her answer is another slow, tender, lingering kiss, a reminder that she didn't just make the decision lightly. This moment is more than just a shag, and she thinks he knows that. One foot caresses the back of his calf as her knee rises.

'I want you,' she breathes.

'All of you.'

He holds her gaze for a moment. He knows how lucky he is. After everything she found out, everything that happened, everything he turned out to be - she wants him.

Then he smiles, and takes a quiet breath and eases his hips forward. Finally. Finally. Three years of wanting, and he's finally slipping inside her. His chest tightens and jaw clenches as the taut skin over the head sinks into tight, wet heat. His eyes drop closed, and he moans helplessly, before pushing deeper, pulling back, pushing further, not stopping, can't stop until she's taken all of him.

And she's just as lucky, after all she put him through, after everything she took away from him, he still wants her.

Her gaze never breaks from his until he's closing his eyes, and she welcomes the weight of his body, the feel of him pressing home, rocking against her. He's thick, and it's glorious, feeling the length of him filling her, stretching to receive him. Her head falls back and she moves with him, hooking her heels around his backside, hips scribing gentle circles in time with his movement.

He swallows hard, and pushes up so he can lock his arms out. He wants to watch her, so he can give her what she wants. Wants to see everything on her face. His breath comes hard already, and - not that he'll ever admit it - there's a voice in the back of his mind yelling, you're shagging Alex Drake! which is a little distracting. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing at this point.

'Y'OK?'

It's a tad breathless and he starts slow, a gentle push-and-pull. This needs to last a bit, otherwise he'll never live it down. And anyway, they have time.

Edited 2012-07-16 23:07 (UTC)

She smiles up at him, nodding, her every movement languid and sensual. He just gave her a mind-blowing orgasm, and the second one is always better than the first. Her hand comes to rest over his heart, and she presses her palm flat, the silent gesture another way to connect to him.

They're as alive as they've ever been, here in this place. They breathe, they eat, they sleep, they make love. This isn't a dream. The fire he's stoking low in her belly is reflected in her gaze. Dark eyes, pupils shot wide, she looks up at him, marveling at his pout of concentration. That she's here with him is a miracle.

This is better than any dance she'd ever imagined. There are no words to express how good he feels.

He nods, and spreads his knees wider, all the better to give him a solid base. The pace doesn't increase, but he gets a little more firm when she puts her hand on him. The doubts about himself over the last few days seem to melt away - he can do this, and she wants him to. He might not be what any of them thought he was, but he can make her come, and he can make her feel good, and she wants him. It's a big part of what makes someone a man, in his book.

As long as he doesn't blow it. Very, very important he doesn't blow it. He can tell it's going to be a struggle already; she fits around him like a hand in a velvet glove, reacting to every push of his hips with a push back of her own. She's not passive, even caught underneath him. He breathes out, and stamps down the coiling excitement in his gut as he rocks a little harder. There'll be time for that later.

And with that firm push, all attempts to keep quiet go right out the window. Every stroke is answered with a decadent moan, soft, but raw and unmistakable. She can't seem to get enough of touching him, her hands stroking over his chest, his arms, his neck. And her feet and legs do much the same. He spreads his knees and hers rise, her heels skimming over his arse, pulling him in.

'Always thought, our first time, would be in, your office. Or, ah yes, my couch.'

He strokes over a hot spot, and she lights up, lips parted, her eyes falling closed at the rich wash of sensation.

'Never thought we'd make it, to a bed.' She's grinning as she says it, looking up at him, taking in his expression as she moves with him.

He never expected her to be so tactile. But then, in his fantasies she wasn't so...real. Her hands don't stop, and his hips respond, speeding up to answer the pull of her feet on his backside.

'Last of the...uh, great romantics, you.'

Mmm, he likes that reaction. He tries to find it again, though he can't remember what he did to get it the first time.

'Wanted it on the office floor, did you?'

She laughs, groans, her heels digging in when he finds it again.

'No, thought I'd be the, one to initiate. Jump you in that chair. Maybe on the desk. Mmm, there, yes there.'

Her eyes roll back and she clings to him for a few moments before relaxing back, gasping for breath.

'This is better...' To say the least.

'I wouldn' have complained.'

Understatement.

OK, he reckons he's got this now. A thrust, and a little twist when he's pressed down against her. He could watch her eyes roll back all day - if there was a chance this could go on that long. He's bloody glad she's started talking. It takes his mind away from the pressure building, and the sound of their bodies coming together, and the tight clench of her when he hits the bits she likes.

'Been wanting...you over that desk since the...the day you walked in.'

She's reaching for him again, rising up a little, hands gently begging another kiss.

'Yeah? I never guessed.'

She uses her weight as leverage, her strong legs letting her meet him just so. Her teeth fix in her lower lip, and it's there, yes, there. She can feel him responding, too. The way he's holding himself, the tension in his breath, and the sound of his voice.

'Still,' she murmurs against the corner of his mouth. 'This, like this, is better.'

It wouldn't have meant as much to either of them, then. She hopes he can feel that, too.

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