Fic: Original: He & She: Freefall, NC-17
For those, like, six of you that read my 1) Original stuff 2)Het
The He & She 'verse is a loosely connected series of vignettes featuring a couple and their many year on-again-off-again relationship. They don't live in the same city most of the time. He's somewhat of a mystery to her, but they've known one another forever and that mystery, plus the ways she can provoke him are endlessly compelling to her. She doesn't, she hasn't walked as far out on a limb for anyone else. And he knows it, but doesn't quite believe it. Yet. But they have awesome sex. Really awesome sex.
This one is not quite finished (as in I've shown a revolver, so to speak, in the first act and it hasn't gone off yet), but as you'll see, it's definitely reached a stopping place. :)
~~~~~~~~~
“Well,” she said, staring up and up and up into the rafters, “this is different.”
He shrugged his shoulders, hands in his pockets as he followed her gaze upward. “Adventure, you said. Something different, you said.” She could feel his sardonic gaze on the side of her face. She turned to him, smiling a little uncertainly at the slight edge in his voice. He gestured at their room/chamber/missile silo “As you wished.”
Blushing at the implicit challenge in his voice, she gazed up at the ceiling - and the skylight covering half the ceiling dome thirty feet up - again. No visible furniture, though the walls and floor were covered in soft, cushiony panels.
At the odd ship-like entryway, she’d had to take off her heels to protect the floor and keenly felt their height differential anew. Only nine inches difference - nothing too insurmountable, but still. Made vertical smooching a bit trickier unless he backed her up against he wall and sort of slid her up and she could wrap her and… my…she was getting ahead of things.
Oddly, when she was barefoot he always seemed so much taller and broader, more substantial in a way that she realized was about two proto-girly steps from “ooh, Batman!” and “aren’t you (breathy voice) tall?” Practically, it wasn’t easy to kiss him on tiptoe for long and she was already restless with the twisting ache of “it’s been too long.”
Where the hell was the bed?
Handles on the wall. Plush, but utilitarian and…also where was the bathroom? She looked a question at him. He pointed to the side of the room behind her before she could even open her mouth. Frowning, she turned on her heel and padded over to the door, which was framed by hand-rails, padded with the same soft stuff as the rest of the walls (a tasteful deep purple) had a small punch-code key pad next to it and door pulls on…three sides? What the?
Before she could turn around, his hand was at the small of her back. “We should put our bags in here,” he said, swinging open the smooth, nearly frictionless door and tossing their bags inside. The room beyond seemed perfectly normal…for a bathroom behind what was essentially a bulkhead. “There,” he said, “all done.”
She blinked at him, her breath catching at sound of his voice already dropping low in his chest. Sighing, she closed her eyes as he moved in close and slid his arms around her, palms resting flat against her waist. He swept his thumbs across the silky fabric of her shirt. “Maybe get more comfortable?” he murmured, his cheek resting against her temple.
She shivered a little and turned to smile up at him, bring his mouth down to hers. He tasted…excited…kissing a lot more intensely than his normal Joe Cool demeanor portrayed. She couldn’t help give him a “what has gotten into you?” look as their lips parted.
A long, slow smile, and he and rubbed his knuckles gently over her hardening nipples. “Get this off,” he said, voice husky (a familiar all-but-order), “let me see.”
Leaning back against his chest, she watched his face while she slowly unbuttoned her shirt. His reaction was subtle; the shift in his pupils, the way his breath picked up and the muscles bunching and softening in his jaw as he swallowed hard. He inhaled appreciatively when she opened her shirt, pulled it almost off her shoulders and cupped her bra-clad breasts as if offering them to him.
“Very nice,” he rumbled, trailing his fingers over the backs of her hands. She reached for him, brushing the insides of his wrists with her fingers and, watching him the entire time, placed his hands over her breasts. He expertly released the front hook, brushed the bra aside and gathered her tight against his chest, running his palms up and under the delicate sensitive skin of her lower curves.
He held her there, breasts lying on the flat of his hands for a long, sighing moment, sliding against her skin from inner curve to outer, fingers open. It was lovely and not enough and she stirred restlessly against him, her head lolling on his shoulder and she made a small, frowning sort of sound.
Chuckling, he bent his head to kiss behind her ear and altered his trajectory slightly, rubbing across her nipples with an ever so slight pause (slide up-pause-slide down), still open handed and crazy making and just this side of too light. She squirmed, panting a little and reached back to grasp the large muscle of his thigh, trying to silently communicate hurry up (because if she said it aloud, he was liable to do the exact opposite.)
Another amused snort and he pressed himself against her, his own need hard and obvious against the upper curves of her ass. She gasped, fumbling for his other thigh so she could hold them tightly together, allowing him to concentrate on the really infuriating, fantastic havoc he was wreaking on her chest.
“I want to feel your skin,” she gasped, pressing the side of her face against his shirt.
“Want me to let go?” his voice was sly and far too steady, dammit. He paused, palms barely grazing her nipples, waiting for an answer. “Be undressed in a jiffy,” he teased.
“Jiffy,” she scoffed, grinding back against him. “No.”
“Well, there’s a mixed signal,” he observed, but slid his hands up and over her breasts and pressed in, gathering them close to her chest, a simple thing, but the pressure made her ache.
Her breath caught and she whispered his name. He made a questioning sound and she tilted her hips back, pressing long and hard against him.
“Impatient?” he was laughing, dammit.
“You have no idea,” she started to say, started to turn in his arms, but he held her in his palms again, sliding slowly, then his fingers were (finally) on her nipples, building pressure in a slow, controlled squeeze. She cried out, the pleasure flashing through her like an arc of light.
She tipped her face back and he caught her mouth with his own and swept possessively inside, tongue velvety and hot. She rose on the balls of her feet to meet him and he and luxuriously, tortuously, pinched her nipples again while he cradled her breasts in his fantastic hands.
He added a wicked little twist at the end of a pinch and her surprised yelp caused him make a speculative hum deep in his throat and change his grip to hold her in place with a hand to her hip as he ground against her. He stroked her breast softly for a moment then firmly pulled and twisted her now-aching nipple. A pleasure-soaked scream burst from her throat as she stiffened in his arms. One last tweak triggered a series of aftershocks that forced him to wrap his both arms around her, one palm across her belly, to keep her on her feet.
“Wow,” he said, appreciatively, “seriously?”
Feeling limp and flush and a little clumsy, she swatted at him. “You started it,” she slurred.
“I think I want to see you do that again,” he said in her ear, low and dark. “And I want you to scream louder.” She shuddered happily.
~~~~~~~
“Okay,” she agreed, turning in his arms, “sounds good to me.” She started working his shirt free from his pants. He reached down, unzipped her skirt and pushed his hands inside to slip it over her hips. She felt it slither to the floor.
When she got his shirt off over his head, he was staring. “Commando.”
She snorted. “You never do figure it out.”
“Oh my god,” he muttered, running his hands over her hips. “The train ride, the limo.”
“Com-pletely oblivious,” she said, popping the “p.” She schooled her expression to one of calculated innocence. “I don’t know why I still try.”
Groaning, he backed her up against the wall, hands tight at her waist. “You know what I said would happen if you did it again.” He was on her before she had a chance to reply.
She arched underneath his hand, trying to get closer. This was rare, him letting go of his iron detachment and giving in to passion. Oh, he had a temper, sure enough, and passion and drive aplenty for his career and calling, but in this? In this - at least with her - he normally kept up a bit of a wall between them. He was the observer, she the observed, so when his breath went ragged and he swept everything aside and just took, well, she hung on for the ride and savored it. As much as you can savor a whirlwind.
“How long,” he growled, pressing her wrists above her head. She smiled inwardly; he wanted to touch and wasn’t going to be distracted. “How long were you like this? Waiting for me.” His free hand smoothed over her hip and down, clever fingers reaching between her legs to find just the right spot. They dipped down and slid back up, holding her right on the brink of a delicious, friction-filled rush. She made a frustrated, wild sound and tried to press down, get a little bit more. He leaned against her, holding her against the wall, trapped between his hands and his body. She cried out again and turned her head away, overwhelmed.
Letting her wrists go, he stroked her neck and gently turned her face to his. “How long?” he whispered.
She looked him in the eye. “Since you told me where to meet you.” Three days ago.
He buried his face in her neck, groaning and muttering soft curses in half-phrases against her skin and his hands trailing over her shoulders, arms, sides as if making sure she was really there. He pressed his forehead to hers and let one hand steal up to caress her breast, brushing over the tender flesh with his thumb. She gasped and arched, pressing her wrists into the wall and trying to lift her hips to his.
Pulling back, he looked at her, a glance that was as blatantly erotic as his hands on her skin. He held her gaze, one hand braced against the wall and the other working his pants off with ruthless efficiency. She started to lower her arms to help him. “Stay still,” he hissed. “If you touch me now…”
She nodded her understanding.
Once free of his clothes, he darted in and took her mouth again, dipping with her when her knees buckled and picked her up, sliding her up the wall until she could wrap her legs around his waist. She could feel him pressed against her, hot and hard, and began to shake all over.
"Can I?" she gasped, needing the connection as much as the balance. "My arms."
"Mmm," he agreed, finding a spot on her neck that made her eyes roll back.
She wrapped around him. "Hey," she quavered, I don't think I...bed? Is there a bed?"
"Hmmm." He pressed closer - pushing and heavy and so warm - and she writhed against him, frustrated and slipping. He was nearly inside but so far from it.
"Please, come on, need you now."
The breath whooshed out of his lungs as he hugged her tightly, nodding. He patted her leg as he eased his weight off her and she untangled herself and stood on shaky legs - his hands steadying her - on the pillowy floor.
"I," he said, kissing her, "I can't..." and he peeled her away from the wall, took two steps and lay her on the deep cushions of the floor. "I wanted to..." he made a gesture she didn't quite get.
"Next round,” she said as she reached for him. “ Come here."
And he did, and was in her arms, groaning low in his chest when he entered her, like it hurt. "I, I have to," he pressed his face into her shoulder in one last bid for control.
She wrapped her legs around him,dug her heel into the small of his back and arched up into his body, moaning his name in frustration. "Fuck me now," she heard herself growl.
He moaned as he pressed his face into the side of her neck, his entire body as tense as a bow. “Again,” he said, almost harshly.
Threading her fingers into his hair, she turned her head so she could whisper it right into his ear. “Fuck. Me. Now.”
He growled his approval and rolled his hips - once, twice - long, sweet, strokes that were hard enough to make her gasp and brace herself for what was to come. Another roll and then he stopped, just barely inside her and hovered there. She didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking.
And then the tease lasted just a second or two too long and she pressed her hips up to meet him - fruitlessly - and something in her just flashed inside her, lust or frustration or fury, she didn’t know. She tried pulling him in with her legs with limited success and let out a scream of pure frustration, arching her back and clutching at his shoulders.
“That’s more like it,” he murmured, giving her a shark-like smirk. He thrust inside her again, smooth and and hard enough to make her breasts bounce. “You were entirely too calm.”
“I’ll show you calm,” she said between gritted teeth, untangling her legs and planting her feet on the floor. “Bring it,” she growled, and thrust against him with everything she had.
The shark’s smile was back again - this time with teeth - and he raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you think so?” And then he slid his hand underneath her hips and just moved her to where he wanted her to be, right where he could drag over her clit again and again, tightening the building pleasure inside her to an almost unbearable level. She gasped and lost the thread of their rhythm for a moment. Just putting her where he wanted her; he’d never done that before and it was unexpectedly hot.
His hand at her hip guided her back into sync with him. “You’re going to come apart for me, like this, just like this,” he assured her between thrusts, his gaze pinning her to the floor. “Gonna scream for me.”
She growled and screwed her eyes shut, feeling competitive and contrary. Smiling to herself, she concentrated on tightening every internal muscle, making his inward thrusts just that much more effort. She got a low, broken moan for her efforts. Ha.
“Still too calm,” he hissed and before she knew it, he’d pulled out, turned her over and was pulling her back onto his cock. She went dizzy a moment with his sheer something or other - she didn’t quite know the word but audacious and powerful and oh-my-god mad hot were all part of it - and collected herself enough to move with him and settle onto all fours.
The first thrust had her nearly collapsing again as he stroked over a place inside her that made sparks show up in her vision. Three more deep, powerful strokes and she was shaking from the inside out, all lit up, and each successive stroke pulling wild noises out of her throat and her breasts were heavy with want and feeling the gathering tingling flush of a really fantastic…because of that place he was ruthlessly stroking….that, that, oh…..
She did scream, shaking and pressing back against him. And she screamed again a few moments later when he draped himself over her back and pinched her now-constantly-throbing nipple. Her elbows collapsed and she let her head loll on her hands, a long, keening note of longing bursting out of her. How the hell could she want more after…..but…
She must have said it aloud. “Can feel it,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “How wound tight… the moment I…” he broke off, holding himself very still. She wanted to reach back and touch him, soothe him, but she didn’t think she could coordinate enough muscles and if he was holding still…. “I want you to,” his breath stuttered, and he pressed his forehead against her back. “Nipples. You. Pinch. ”
If he could stop right now and give her suggestions, well hell, she was going to….she waffled her way up to her elbows and crossed her arms so she could comfortably (ha!) fondle her own breasts. She wiggled her hips when she was ready, and he kissed the small of her back.
“Do not,” he ordered in a voice she wasn’t going to disobey, “hold back.”
And it seemed he wasn’t going to either, because he, he had never. Not like this. And, oh, she couldn’t keep up with his speed and so she just rocked against him as much as she could. He was growling and his hands bit into her hips and the sound of them as they came together, oh, oh,and his heat and his hands and god she was so wet and aching, still, and this, this, this, like every nerve was singing and she remembered all at once and pressed her fingers together, hands steady while the rest of her body was pinned and writhing and the pleasure of it made her entire body clench and tremble and she made a sharp, yelping sound at the surprise of it.
He made a triumphant, snarling reply, his hips jerking against her, slamming into her with abandon, until the lights burst screaming white behind her eyes - the rafters of the room would have rung with it if she wasn’t lying face down - and she was sobbing hoarsely through it as it came, wave after wave, until she was moving weakly against him, straight from blinding orgasm to a thousand shivery jittering aftershocks. He roared, thrusting in one last time hard and deep and oh, so lovely.
Her knees started to slide and he had the presence of mind to tip them over on their sides, slipping out of her, which made her whine a little at the loss. They lay there, loosely spooning and catching their breath.
“Well,” she ventured after a while, really kind of fucking awed.
He snorted and pulled her against him, wrapping one arm around her waist. He sounded pretty happy about the whole thing.
“Well,” she repeated. She could feel him smile against the back of her neck as she drifted off to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~
The He & She 'verse is a loosely connected series of vignettes featuring a couple and their many year on-again-off-again relationship. They don't live in the same city most of the time. He's somewhat of a mystery to her, but they've known one another forever and that mystery, plus the ways she can provoke him are endlessly compelling to her. She doesn't, she hasn't walked as far out on a limb for anyone else. And he knows it, but doesn't quite believe it. Yet. But they have awesome sex. Really awesome sex.
This one is not quite finished (as in I've shown a revolver, so to speak, in the first act and it hasn't gone off yet), but as you'll see, it's definitely reached a stopping place. :)
~~~~~~~~~
“Well,” she said, staring up and up and up into the rafters, “this is different.”
He shrugged his shoulders, hands in his pockets as he followed her gaze upward. “Adventure, you said. Something different, you said.” She could feel his sardonic gaze on the side of her face. She turned to him, smiling a little uncertainly at the slight edge in his voice. He gestured at their room/chamber/missile silo “As you wished.”
Blushing at the implicit challenge in his voice, she gazed up at the ceiling - and the skylight covering half the ceiling dome thirty feet up - again. No visible furniture, though the walls and floor were covered in soft, cushiony panels.
At the odd ship-like entryway, she’d had to take off her heels to protect the floor and keenly felt their height differential anew. Only nine inches difference - nothing too insurmountable, but still. Made vertical smooching a bit trickier unless he backed her up against he wall and sort of slid her up and she could wrap her and… my…she was getting ahead of things.
Oddly, when she was barefoot he always seemed so much taller and broader, more substantial in a way that she realized was about two proto-girly steps from “ooh, Batman!” and “aren’t you (breathy voice) tall?” Practically, it wasn’t easy to kiss him on tiptoe for long and she was already restless with the twisting ache of “it’s been too long.”
Where the hell was the bed?
Handles on the wall. Plush, but utilitarian and…also where was the bathroom? She looked a question at him. He pointed to the side of the room behind her before she could even open her mouth. Frowning, she turned on her heel and padded over to the door, which was framed by hand-rails, padded with the same soft stuff as the rest of the walls (a tasteful deep purple) had a small punch-code key pad next to it and door pulls on…three sides? What the?
Before she could turn around, his hand was at the small of her back. “We should put our bags in here,” he said, swinging open the smooth, nearly frictionless door and tossing their bags inside. The room beyond seemed perfectly normal…for a bathroom behind what was essentially a bulkhead. “There,” he said, “all done.”
She blinked at him, her breath catching at sound of his voice already dropping low in his chest. Sighing, she closed her eyes as he moved in close and slid his arms around her, palms resting flat against her waist. He swept his thumbs across the silky fabric of her shirt. “Maybe get more comfortable?” he murmured, his cheek resting against her temple.
She shivered a little and turned to smile up at him, bring his mouth down to hers. He tasted…excited…kissing a lot more intensely than his normal Joe Cool demeanor portrayed. She couldn’t help give him a “what has gotten into you?” look as their lips parted.
A long, slow smile, and he and rubbed his knuckles gently over her hardening nipples. “Get this off,” he said, voice husky (a familiar all-but-order), “let me see.”
Leaning back against his chest, she watched his face while she slowly unbuttoned her shirt. His reaction was subtle; the shift in his pupils, the way his breath picked up and the muscles bunching and softening in his jaw as he swallowed hard. He inhaled appreciatively when she opened her shirt, pulled it almost off her shoulders and cupped her bra-clad breasts as if offering them to him.
“Very nice,” he rumbled, trailing his fingers over the backs of her hands. She reached for him, brushing the insides of his wrists with her fingers and, watching him the entire time, placed his hands over her breasts. He expertly released the front hook, brushed the bra aside and gathered her tight against his chest, running his palms up and under the delicate sensitive skin of her lower curves.
He held her there, breasts lying on the flat of his hands for a long, sighing moment, sliding against her skin from inner curve to outer, fingers open. It was lovely and not enough and she stirred restlessly against him, her head lolling on his shoulder and she made a small, frowning sort of sound.
Chuckling, he bent his head to kiss behind her ear and altered his trajectory slightly, rubbing across her nipples with an ever so slight pause (slide up-pause-slide down), still open handed and crazy making and just this side of too light. She squirmed, panting a little and reached back to grasp the large muscle of his thigh, trying to silently communicate hurry up (because if she said it aloud, he was liable to do the exact opposite.)
Another amused snort and he pressed himself against her, his own need hard and obvious against the upper curves of her ass. She gasped, fumbling for his other thigh so she could hold them tightly together, allowing him to concentrate on the really infuriating, fantastic havoc he was wreaking on her chest.
“I want to feel your skin,” she gasped, pressing the side of her face against his shirt.
“Want me to let go?” his voice was sly and far too steady, dammit. He paused, palms barely grazing her nipples, waiting for an answer. “Be undressed in a jiffy,” he teased.
“Jiffy,” she scoffed, grinding back against him. “No.”
“Well, there’s a mixed signal,” he observed, but slid his hands up and over her breasts and pressed in, gathering them close to her chest, a simple thing, but the pressure made her ache.
Her breath caught and she whispered his name. He made a questioning sound and she tilted her hips back, pressing long and hard against him.
“Impatient?” he was laughing, dammit.
“You have no idea,” she started to say, started to turn in his arms, but he held her in his palms again, sliding slowly, then his fingers were (finally) on her nipples, building pressure in a slow, controlled squeeze. She cried out, the pleasure flashing through her like an arc of light.
She tipped her face back and he caught her mouth with his own and swept possessively inside, tongue velvety and hot. She rose on the balls of her feet to meet him and he and luxuriously, tortuously, pinched her nipples again while he cradled her breasts in his fantastic hands.
He added a wicked little twist at the end of a pinch and her surprised yelp caused him make a speculative hum deep in his throat and change his grip to hold her in place with a hand to her hip as he ground against her. He stroked her breast softly for a moment then firmly pulled and twisted her now-aching nipple. A pleasure-soaked scream burst from her throat as she stiffened in his arms. One last tweak triggered a series of aftershocks that forced him to wrap his both arms around her, one palm across her belly, to keep her on her feet.
“Wow,” he said, appreciatively, “seriously?”
Feeling limp and flush and a little clumsy, she swatted at him. “You started it,” she slurred.
“I think I want to see you do that again,” he said in her ear, low and dark. “And I want you to scream louder.” She shuddered happily.
~~~~~~~
“Okay,” she agreed, turning in his arms, “sounds good to me.” She started working his shirt free from his pants. He reached down, unzipped her skirt and pushed his hands inside to slip it over her hips. She felt it slither to the floor.
When she got his shirt off over his head, he was staring. “Commando.”
She snorted. “You never do figure it out.”
“Oh my god,” he muttered, running his hands over her hips. “The train ride, the limo.”
“Com-pletely oblivious,” she said, popping the “p.” She schooled her expression to one of calculated innocence. “I don’t know why I still try.”
Groaning, he backed her up against the wall, hands tight at her waist. “You know what I said would happen if you did it again.” He was on her before she had a chance to reply.
She arched underneath his hand, trying to get closer. This was rare, him letting go of his iron detachment and giving in to passion. Oh, he had a temper, sure enough, and passion and drive aplenty for his career and calling, but in this? In this - at least with her - he normally kept up a bit of a wall between them. He was the observer, she the observed, so when his breath went ragged and he swept everything aside and just took, well, she hung on for the ride and savored it. As much as you can savor a whirlwind.
“How long,” he growled, pressing her wrists above her head. She smiled inwardly; he wanted to touch and wasn’t going to be distracted. “How long were you like this? Waiting for me.” His free hand smoothed over her hip and down, clever fingers reaching between her legs to find just the right spot. They dipped down and slid back up, holding her right on the brink of a delicious, friction-filled rush. She made a frustrated, wild sound and tried to press down, get a little bit more. He leaned against her, holding her against the wall, trapped between his hands and his body. She cried out again and turned her head away, overwhelmed.
Letting her wrists go, he stroked her neck and gently turned her face to his. “How long?” he whispered.
She looked him in the eye. “Since you told me where to meet you.” Three days ago.
He buried his face in her neck, groaning and muttering soft curses in half-phrases against her skin and his hands trailing over her shoulders, arms, sides as if making sure she was really there. He pressed his forehead to hers and let one hand steal up to caress her breast, brushing over the tender flesh with his thumb. She gasped and arched, pressing her wrists into the wall and trying to lift her hips to his.
Pulling back, he looked at her, a glance that was as blatantly erotic as his hands on her skin. He held her gaze, one hand braced against the wall and the other working his pants off with ruthless efficiency. She started to lower her arms to help him. “Stay still,” he hissed. “If you touch me now…”
She nodded her understanding.
Once free of his clothes, he darted in and took her mouth again, dipping with her when her knees buckled and picked her up, sliding her up the wall until she could wrap her legs around his waist. She could feel him pressed against her, hot and hard, and began to shake all over.
"Can I?" she gasped, needing the connection as much as the balance. "My arms."
"Mmm," he agreed, finding a spot on her neck that made her eyes roll back.
She wrapped around him. "Hey," she quavered, I don't think I...bed? Is there a bed?"
"Hmmm." He pressed closer - pushing and heavy and so warm - and she writhed against him, frustrated and slipping. He was nearly inside but so far from it.
"Please, come on, need you now."
The breath whooshed out of his lungs as he hugged her tightly, nodding. He patted her leg as he eased his weight off her and she untangled herself and stood on shaky legs - his hands steadying her - on the pillowy floor.
"I," he said, kissing her, "I can't..." and he peeled her away from the wall, took two steps and lay her on the deep cushions of the floor. "I wanted to..." he made a gesture she didn't quite get.
"Next round,” she said as she reached for him. “ Come here."
And he did, and was in her arms, groaning low in his chest when he entered her, like it hurt. "I, I have to," he pressed his face into her shoulder in one last bid for control.
She wrapped her legs around him,dug her heel into the small of his back and arched up into his body, moaning his name in frustration. "Fuck me now," she heard herself growl.
He moaned as he pressed his face into the side of her neck, his entire body as tense as a bow. “Again,” he said, almost harshly.
Threading her fingers into his hair, she turned her head so she could whisper it right into his ear. “Fuck. Me. Now.”
He growled his approval and rolled his hips - once, twice - long, sweet, strokes that were hard enough to make her gasp and brace herself for what was to come. Another roll and then he stopped, just barely inside her and hovered there. She didn’t have to see his face to know he was smirking.
And then the tease lasted just a second or two too long and she pressed her hips up to meet him - fruitlessly - and something in her just flashed inside her, lust or frustration or fury, she didn’t know. She tried pulling him in with her legs with limited success and let out a scream of pure frustration, arching her back and clutching at his shoulders.
“That’s more like it,” he murmured, giving her a shark-like smirk. He thrust inside her again, smooth and and hard enough to make her breasts bounce. “You were entirely too calm.”
“I’ll show you calm,” she said between gritted teeth, untangling her legs and planting her feet on the floor. “Bring it,” she growled, and thrust against him with everything she had.
The shark’s smile was back again - this time with teeth - and he raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you think so?” And then he slid his hand underneath her hips and just moved her to where he wanted her to be, right where he could drag over her clit again and again, tightening the building pleasure inside her to an almost unbearable level. She gasped and lost the thread of their rhythm for a moment. Just putting her where he wanted her; he’d never done that before and it was unexpectedly hot.
His hand at her hip guided her back into sync with him. “You’re going to come apart for me, like this, just like this,” he assured her between thrusts, his gaze pinning her to the floor. “Gonna scream for me.”
She growled and screwed her eyes shut, feeling competitive and contrary. Smiling to herself, she concentrated on tightening every internal muscle, making his inward thrusts just that much more effort. She got a low, broken moan for her efforts. Ha.
“Still too calm,” he hissed and before she knew it, he’d pulled out, turned her over and was pulling her back onto his cock. She went dizzy a moment with his sheer something or other - she didn’t quite know the word but audacious and powerful and oh-my-god mad hot were all part of it - and collected herself enough to move with him and settle onto all fours.
The first thrust had her nearly collapsing again as he stroked over a place inside her that made sparks show up in her vision. Three more deep, powerful strokes and she was shaking from the inside out, all lit up, and each successive stroke pulling wild noises out of her throat and her breasts were heavy with want and feeling the gathering tingling flush of a really fantastic…because of that place he was ruthlessly stroking….that, that, oh…..
She did scream, shaking and pressing back against him. And she screamed again a few moments later when he draped himself over her back and pinched her now-constantly-throbing nipple. Her elbows collapsed and she let her head loll on her hands, a long, keening note of longing bursting out of her. How the hell could she want more after…..but…
She must have said it aloud. “Can feel it,” he said, his voice sounding strained. “How wound tight… the moment I…” he broke off, holding himself very still. She wanted to reach back and touch him, soothe him, but she didn’t think she could coordinate enough muscles and if he was holding still…. “I want you to,” his breath stuttered, and he pressed his forehead against her back. “Nipples. You. Pinch. ”
If he could stop right now and give her suggestions, well hell, she was going to….she waffled her way up to her elbows and crossed her arms so she could comfortably (ha!) fondle her own breasts. She wiggled her hips when she was ready, and he kissed the small of her back.
“Do not,” he ordered in a voice she wasn’t going to disobey, “hold back.”
And it seemed he wasn’t going to either, because he, he had never. Not like this. And, oh, she couldn’t keep up with his speed and so she just rocked against him as much as she could. He was growling and his hands bit into her hips and the sound of them as they came together, oh, oh,and his heat and his hands and god she was so wet and aching, still, and this, this, this, like every nerve was singing and she remembered all at once and pressed her fingers together, hands steady while the rest of her body was pinned and writhing and the pleasure of it made her entire body clench and tremble and she made a sharp, yelping sound at the surprise of it.
He made a triumphant, snarling reply, his hips jerking against her, slamming into her with abandon, until the lights burst screaming white behind her eyes - the rafters of the room would have rung with it if she wasn’t lying face down - and she was sobbing hoarsely through it as it came, wave after wave, until she was moving weakly against him, straight from blinding orgasm to a thousand shivery jittering aftershocks. He roared, thrusting in one last time hard and deep and oh, so lovely.
Her knees started to slide and he had the presence of mind to tip them over on their sides, slipping out of her, which made her whine a little at the loss. They lay there, loosely spooning and catching their breath.
“Well,” she ventured after a while, really kind of fucking awed.
He snorted and pulled her against him, wrapping one arm around her waist. He sounded pretty happy about the whole thing.
“Well,” she repeated. She could feel him smile against the back of her neck as she drifted off to sleep.
~~~~~~~~~