fic: Aye Aye Captain
Title : Aye Aye Captain
Author : aroo4life (aka AC Lovelady)
Original Fic
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Disclaimer: This was originally written as part of an Author's Challenge on another group.
The shiny surface of the cellophane dry cleaning bag caught my eye in the bathroom mirror. The teal shirt with its crisp creases, fine lines, and stunning buttons hung precariously on the back of the closet door in preparation for tomorrow's sales meeting. A tingle spread from the tips of my fingers as I envisioned running my hands across the starchy fabric, down the line of her spine, finding her waistline and pulling her into me. I adored her in faded 501s and soft cotton T-shirts, but when she wears the power shirt, I am reduced to a puddle at her feet.
The shirt taunted me from its resting place as I imagined her both in and out of its confines. I imagined her dark hair flowing over the collar, the small bit of ivory skin peeking from the triangle made by the buttons below the base of her throat, and her brown eyes shining at me as I stare in awe.
The shrill tone of the phone pierced through the desire beginning to consume me and I startled back to reality.
“Hey, beautiful,” I answered with a huge grin as caller ID had given her away. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Hey, you. Good thoughts, I hope.”
“Yep. I picked up the dry cleaning for your meeting tomorrow.”
“Oh! So you’ve been staring at the shirt again, huh?”
“Yep,” I squeaked out with that high pitched squeal that always gives me away.
“Nice,” she uttered with a small reflective pause. “All right, I’m going to be a few more minutes here and then on my way home. Do I need to pick up anything?”
“Nope. Dinner will be ready, just bring yourself.”
“See you in a few.”
“Aye, aye Captain,” I intoned with just a hint of mischief and a slight challenge.
“Oh, I quite like that.”
I took note of the slight change in her tone at our gentle and familiar teasing. “I thought you might,” I added with a wink she couldn’t see, but I’m certain she heard.
“I love you, baby. See you soon.”
“I love you, too.”
The refrain was easy; it was just us being us. I couldn’t remember exactly how it started. It might have been watching Dana on “The L Word” in that captain’s hat or perhaps a nod to Walt Whitman, but it was just another way to express my love for her. She was my captain and she owned me.
The evening was pleasant. We ate dinner, discussed our days, cleaned up, and fell into the reassuring pattern of our existence. We held hands while flipping incessantly through the television channels before settling on a program. I brought her a Diet Coke. She brought me a chocolate candy. It was the little things that made each day worth coming home.
As I prepared for bed, I once again caught sight of that teal shirt, and as before, my stomach clinched in response. The earlier fantasies once again raced to the forefront of my mind. I exited the bathroom and saw her there, her dark hair fanned out slightly on the pillow, the covers tucked under her arms as she just gazed over at me. I stopped and took in the vision of her there in the light of the bedside lamp.
A grin made its way to her beautiful lips as she caught me staring and she taunted, “You’ve been looking at the shirt again, huh?”
“Yep,” I mumbled sheepishly. Usually, I wait for her to make the move. I concede to her mood and her desire, but tonight, I just wanted. I wanted to take her, to consume her, to make her lose herself.
I crossed to my side of the bed and removed the pajamas I am not sure why I bothered to put on in the first place. Her gaze never left me as I folded the shorts and shirt and placed them with care on the nightstand. My intent was clear as I climbed under the cool cotton sheets and moved next to, but not quite on top of her.
Her soft gray t-shirt pressed against my cheek as I tucked my head into her shoulder. I placed a quick kiss to the hollow of her neck that was just inside my reach and was still for just a moment reveling in the scent of her hair and the softness of her body.
She turned her head slightly toward me and teasingly asked “What it is about that shirt that turns you on so much?”
I paused for a minute considering my answer. Should I tell her about the fantasy that overtakes me each and every time she puts on the shirt, how badly I want to slide to my knees before she can pull on her pants and just feel the soft, starchy fabric on my cheek in direct contrast with the softness of her inner thighs?
Or maybe I should tell her that the color of the shirt emphasizes the brown of her eyes and that when she wears the shirt, she walks with a different level of confidence-the kind of confidence that makes me want to follow her to the ends of the earth.
“It’s not the shirt so much as you in it, or kind of in it,” I gave a small lift of my brow followed by a quick wink. “When you wear that shirt, it makes my hands itch to be on you, to trace the lines of the creases, to feel your soft curves under the fabric. I want to run my hand along the buttons, flipping them open one by one until I can peel it off you and then trace my tongue along the exposed skin.”
I heard her breath catch as she turned the words over in her head. I had her attention and was ready to take full advantage. “So does that answer your question?”
Not waiting for a response, I repositioned myself over her and slid my hands under the hem of her sleep shirt. My palm moved across the smooth skin of her abdomen and I felt the muscles clench as her back arched slightly. I eased her forward just enough to remove the shirt. It was my turn to gasp. The swell of her breasts, her nipples hard and ready for attention-no matter how many times I have taken them in my hands or stroked them with my tongue, they never fail to take my breath from me.
I covered her body with mine and placed my mouth over hers. I wanted to savor the moment our lips touched, but her body spoke to me. It told me exactly what it wanted and slow was not in the equation. I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth and nipped it with my teeth. I felt her arch under me as she repositioned our mouths so that her tongue traced my lips. She thrust her thigh up and into me. I was tempted to grind myself onto the hard muscle of her thigh but this was about her.
I tore my mouth from hers and slid down the length of her body leaving the covers in place.
“What are you doing?” She protested the loss of my body pressing into her.
“What I want to do,” I managed with a confidence that she instills in me.
My world went completely dark as the quilt settled over my head forcing my senses into overdrive. Only she existed in this new place. I could not hear or see her. I could only feel. Instead of listening for her moans of pleasure or the shifts in the pitch of her voice as she urged me on, I concentrated on her motions and heard from her body what she wanted from me.
I slid the threadbare sleep shorts and Jockey underwear from her hips and pulled them down the length of her legs. As she shifted to aid in their removal, her fragrance assailed my nostrils and I felt myself swell in response. I placed my hands under her hips and pulled her toward my mouth. I traced my tongue up her inner thigh and then shifted over and did the same to the other side. I wanted to go more slowly; I really did, but her body was begging for my attention.
I settled into the juncture of her thighs and ran my tongue through her swollen and wet cleft. I stayed away from her clitoris and instead lapped up the juices flowing freely along her entire slit. I pressed a hard tongue up and into her, drawing the fresh wetness into my mouth with each thrust. I felt the muscles of her legs tighten as she pressed her hips even farther into my mouth, drawing me even closer.
It was then that I took her clitoris between my lips and suckled gently. The hand that she had been resting on my arm flew to my hand and gripped it tightly. She needed the contact with me - to show me what I could not hear or see. My other hand was firmly under her and I could feel how tight her ass was from the effort of pressing herself onto my tongue. I flicked the ridge of her clitoris in the same rhythm as the small shifting movements of her hips. I wanted her to come. I wanted to make her come.
I drew her clit harder into my mouth. Her hips dropped suddenly into the mattress as orgasm overtook her. I moved my head to keep her clit firmly between my lips. I felt each spasm on my tongue and wanted to savor each clench. I kept the motion steady until she shifted her hips again signaling she was done. I rested my head on her thigh and lay there for a moment unable to move. She stroked my hair gently as her legs twitched.
With one last kiss on each sticky thigh, I moved up and out from under the quilt. I squinted to re-adjust my eyes from the absolute darkness below to even the smallest bit of light from the bedside lamp. When she came into focus, her face was an absolute vision as she wore the largest grin I have seen on her face. It was breathtaking to know that I could produce that smile.
She pulled me the rest of the way to her and kissed me hard. My lips still tingling from their previous efforts relaxed under the pressure of her mouth and tongue. With an ease of movement, she rolled me over and cupped my sex in her hand.
“What are you doing?” I protested as this was supposed to have been about her.
“Remember, I give as good as I get.”
My nose flared at the statement and I choked out, “Aye aye, Captain.”
She winked at me. “I quite like that.”
Two fingers slid easily into my wet sex.
“I thought you might,” I stammered as her thumb found my clit.
She was always my captain. She owned me.
Author : aroo4life (aka AC Lovelady)
Original Fic
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Disclaimer: This was originally written as part of an Author's Challenge on another group.
The shiny surface of the cellophane dry cleaning bag caught my eye in the bathroom mirror. The teal shirt with its crisp creases, fine lines, and stunning buttons hung precariously on the back of the closet door in preparation for tomorrow's sales meeting. A tingle spread from the tips of my fingers as I envisioned running my hands across the starchy fabric, down the line of her spine, finding her waistline and pulling her into me. I adored her in faded 501s and soft cotton T-shirts, but when she wears the power shirt, I am reduced to a puddle at her feet.
The shirt taunted me from its resting place as I imagined her both in and out of its confines. I imagined her dark hair flowing over the collar, the small bit of ivory skin peeking from the triangle made by the buttons below the base of her throat, and her brown eyes shining at me as I stare in awe.
The shrill tone of the phone pierced through the desire beginning to consume me and I startled back to reality.
“Hey, beautiful,” I answered with a huge grin as caller ID had given her away. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Hey, you. Good thoughts, I hope.”
“Yep. I picked up the dry cleaning for your meeting tomorrow.”
“Oh! So you’ve been staring at the shirt again, huh?”
“Yep,” I squeaked out with that high pitched squeal that always gives me away.
“Nice,” she uttered with a small reflective pause. “All right, I’m going to be a few more minutes here and then on my way home. Do I need to pick up anything?”
“Nope. Dinner will be ready, just bring yourself.”
“See you in a few.”
“Aye, aye Captain,” I intoned with just a hint of mischief and a slight challenge.
“Oh, I quite like that.”
I took note of the slight change in her tone at our gentle and familiar teasing. “I thought you might,” I added with a wink she couldn’t see, but I’m certain she heard.
“I love you, baby. See you soon.”
“I love you, too.”
The refrain was easy; it was just us being us. I couldn’t remember exactly how it started. It might have been watching Dana on “The L Word” in that captain’s hat or perhaps a nod to Walt Whitman, but it was just another way to express my love for her. She was my captain and she owned me.
The evening was pleasant. We ate dinner, discussed our days, cleaned up, and fell into the reassuring pattern of our existence. We held hands while flipping incessantly through the television channels before settling on a program. I brought her a Diet Coke. She brought me a chocolate candy. It was the little things that made each day worth coming home.
As I prepared for bed, I once again caught sight of that teal shirt, and as before, my stomach clinched in response. The earlier fantasies once again raced to the forefront of my mind. I exited the bathroom and saw her there, her dark hair fanned out slightly on the pillow, the covers tucked under her arms as she just gazed over at me. I stopped and took in the vision of her there in the light of the bedside lamp.
A grin made its way to her beautiful lips as she caught me staring and she taunted, “You’ve been looking at the shirt again, huh?”
“Yep,” I mumbled sheepishly. Usually, I wait for her to make the move. I concede to her mood and her desire, but tonight, I just wanted. I wanted to take her, to consume her, to make her lose herself.
I crossed to my side of the bed and removed the pajamas I am not sure why I bothered to put on in the first place. Her gaze never left me as I folded the shorts and shirt and placed them with care on the nightstand. My intent was clear as I climbed under the cool cotton sheets and moved next to, but not quite on top of her.
Her soft gray t-shirt pressed against my cheek as I tucked my head into her shoulder. I placed a quick kiss to the hollow of her neck that was just inside my reach and was still for just a moment reveling in the scent of her hair and the softness of her body.
She turned her head slightly toward me and teasingly asked “What it is about that shirt that turns you on so much?”
I paused for a minute considering my answer. Should I tell her about the fantasy that overtakes me each and every time she puts on the shirt, how badly I want to slide to my knees before she can pull on her pants and just feel the soft, starchy fabric on my cheek in direct contrast with the softness of her inner thighs?
Or maybe I should tell her that the color of the shirt emphasizes the brown of her eyes and that when she wears the shirt, she walks with a different level of confidence-the kind of confidence that makes me want to follow her to the ends of the earth.
“It’s not the shirt so much as you in it, or kind of in it,” I gave a small lift of my brow followed by a quick wink. “When you wear that shirt, it makes my hands itch to be on you, to trace the lines of the creases, to feel your soft curves under the fabric. I want to run my hand along the buttons, flipping them open one by one until I can peel it off you and then trace my tongue along the exposed skin.”
I heard her breath catch as she turned the words over in her head. I had her attention and was ready to take full advantage. “So does that answer your question?”
Not waiting for a response, I repositioned myself over her and slid my hands under the hem of her sleep shirt. My palm moved across the smooth skin of her abdomen and I felt the muscles clench as her back arched slightly. I eased her forward just enough to remove the shirt. It was my turn to gasp. The swell of her breasts, her nipples hard and ready for attention-no matter how many times I have taken them in my hands or stroked them with my tongue, they never fail to take my breath from me.
I covered her body with mine and placed my mouth over hers. I wanted to savor the moment our lips touched, but her body spoke to me. It told me exactly what it wanted and slow was not in the equation. I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth and nipped it with my teeth. I felt her arch under me as she repositioned our mouths so that her tongue traced my lips. She thrust her thigh up and into me. I was tempted to grind myself onto the hard muscle of her thigh but this was about her.
I tore my mouth from hers and slid down the length of her body leaving the covers in place.
“What are you doing?” She protested the loss of my body pressing into her.
“What I want to do,” I managed with a confidence that she instills in me.
My world went completely dark as the quilt settled over my head forcing my senses into overdrive. Only she existed in this new place. I could not hear or see her. I could only feel. Instead of listening for her moans of pleasure or the shifts in the pitch of her voice as she urged me on, I concentrated on her motions and heard from her body what she wanted from me.
I slid the threadbare sleep shorts and Jockey underwear from her hips and pulled them down the length of her legs. As she shifted to aid in their removal, her fragrance assailed my nostrils and I felt myself swell in response. I placed my hands under her hips and pulled her toward my mouth. I traced my tongue up her inner thigh and then shifted over and did the same to the other side. I wanted to go more slowly; I really did, but her body was begging for my attention.
I settled into the juncture of her thighs and ran my tongue through her swollen and wet cleft. I stayed away from her clitoris and instead lapped up the juices flowing freely along her entire slit. I pressed a hard tongue up and into her, drawing the fresh wetness into my mouth with each thrust. I felt the muscles of her legs tighten as she pressed her hips even farther into my mouth, drawing me even closer.
It was then that I took her clitoris between my lips and suckled gently. The hand that she had been resting on my arm flew to my hand and gripped it tightly. She needed the contact with me - to show me what I could not hear or see. My other hand was firmly under her and I could feel how tight her ass was from the effort of pressing herself onto my tongue. I flicked the ridge of her clitoris in the same rhythm as the small shifting movements of her hips. I wanted her to come. I wanted to make her come.
I drew her clit harder into my mouth. Her hips dropped suddenly into the mattress as orgasm overtook her. I moved my head to keep her clit firmly between my lips. I felt each spasm on my tongue and wanted to savor each clench. I kept the motion steady until she shifted her hips again signaling she was done. I rested my head on her thigh and lay there for a moment unable to move. She stroked my hair gently as her legs twitched.
With one last kiss on each sticky thigh, I moved up and out from under the quilt. I squinted to re-adjust my eyes from the absolute darkness below to even the smallest bit of light from the bedside lamp. When she came into focus, her face was an absolute vision as she wore the largest grin I have seen on her face. It was breathtaking to know that I could produce that smile.
She pulled me the rest of the way to her and kissed me hard. My lips still tingling from their previous efforts relaxed under the pressure of her mouth and tongue. With an ease of movement, she rolled me over and cupped my sex in her hand.
“What are you doing?” I protested as this was supposed to have been about her.
“Remember, I give as good as I get.”
My nose flared at the statement and I choked out, “Aye aye, Captain.”
She winked at me. “I quite like that.”
Two fingers slid easily into my wet sex.
“I thought you might,” I stammered as her thumb found my clit.
She was always my captain. She owned me.