Now touch me, baby (NC-17)
It had been their habit to see each other on the weekend, but Regan had been on his mind since he’d seen her last and Miles wasn’t inclined to wait any longer to have her company again. He’d spent the day working from his home office and mid-day gave in to the urge to owl and invite her to spend the evening with him after she finished whatever activities she had planned for the day.
It was half six when the crack of Apparation alerted him to Regan’s arrival and Miles rose from his desk, stretching the kinks from his back after a long day of sitting. He found her in his entryway, and a smile spread as she turned toward the sound of his footsteps. The anticipation and pleasure he felt every time they got together was mirrored in Regan’s face; she never held her happiness at seeing him back. It was a look he loved seeing on her. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Enjoying the butterfly-giddy feeling she got every time she saw Miles, since it seemed it was never going away, Regan took the few steps into his space, sliding her arms around him. "Hello," she greeted, beaming up at him.
She'd been surprised by his owl, having thought he'd be too busy with his practice during the week to want to entertain, but no less delighted by the invitation for its unexpectedness. Regardless of what they chose to do, she liked being near Miles, and she'd found that the quiet moments they spent just sitting together, chatting or silent, were some of her favorites. He was peaceful, in a way that few people were, and much as she adored her household and their passion and exuberance, it was something she'd been missing. Not that passion doesn't also play into some moments beside the fire.
The thought tinted her cheeks immediately, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, chagrined. That, as well as the butterflies, appeared to be a lasting affliction.
Bending to steal a quick kiss from the pinkened face that was turned up to his, Miles slid an arm around her and started them back to the cozy, informal living area where he spent most evenings. A quick swish of his wand had a fire blazing in the hearth and he flopped onto the sofa, tugging Regan with him. He chuckled at her squeak of surprise, settling her in his lap as was usual when they sat together. He’d missed holding her, and the slight pressure of her form against his relaxed him in a way he hadn’t even realized was tense.
“That’s better. My lap has been chilled these last few days. It’s good to have my favorite warmer back where she belongs,” Miles teased. “You really shouldn’t run off for so long.”
Regan poked her tongue out at him briefly, though it was true that she preferred being exactly where she was, and didn't mind his pointing it out. "You do have work," she admonished, "and I think this might lessen your productivity somewhat."
“But it would brighten my day considerably,” came the ready retort. In truth, he’d prefer to keep Regan far away from a few of his clients and their business, but most of what he did these days was harmless enough, and the thought of having her pop by his office from time to time didn’t bother him in the slightest. Quite the opposite. “I’m always glad to have you near.”
"Mm, then you'll have to acquire more free time..." she pondered aloud, shifting to brush her lips across his, "or else install an ottoman for me in your office, though again, I see that being potentially problematic."
She ribbed him because he never minded; oftener than not it made him smile, and she enjoyed seeing his smile. In truth though, it made her warm and content to know that he wished for her presence as much as she did his, and she wrapped the memory of that feeling around herself when she missed his calming steadiness.
Shifting them again, Miles stretched out on the sofa so that Regan lay facing him, half on his chest and their legs entwined. “I suppose it could be troublesome. My clients might not appreciate my distraction, and I’m not sure I could resist kissing you if you were so close.”
As if to prove his point, he pressed his lips to hers gently, savoring what he’d been without the last few days. Twining his fingers into Regan’s soft hair, Miles drank her in as he enjoyed the feeling of her body against his from top to bottom.
With a hum of pleasure, all her senses instantly alive and singing at having the length of herself draped along Miles, Regan surrendered to his kiss, her hands finding purchase in the knit of his jumper. She was certain she could never tire of this; tasting one another for the simple joy and rightness of it, and she subsided in his arms, content to give him what he would have of her.
It was so easy to lose himself in Regan. Miles pulled her closer until she was nearly on top of him, letting his hand slip beneath her shirt to skim over the smooth plane of her back. The sensation of her skin beneath his fingers had a low growl of want rising from deep within his chest as he deepened their kiss. Her taste was sweet, her body warm and pliant. Miles knew he could have more of her, and the thought was so, so tempting.
Arching into the electric caress of Miles' fingertips across her bare skin, the current of heat dancing along her nerves as he fed at her mouth, Regan loosed his clothing and shoved her hands into his hair, writhing perforce at the cacophony of sensation. She broke from his lips to find his eyes, her own liquid and bright with awareness, hissing a soft "Yes" as he tracked the ridges of her spine with a light touch.
She was so beautiful when desire lit her from within and Miles’ eye darkened as he returned, “Yes?” Studying each restless movement, his fingers tracked the curve of Regan’s ribs from back to front, then down the cage and around to her spine again. The quick rise and fall of her chest and soft panting breaths as she shivered beneath his caress were mesmerizing.
Moving her grip to his shoulders, she braced herself on her forearms, trying to give him better access to her skin, the fleeting touches spreading gooseflesh everywhere they ghosted.
"Miles,please," Regan entreated, swaying with the helpless twisting of her body, seeking the heat of his hands and the sweet high they promised. She could feel her reason falter, protesting feebly, and didn't care; she was safe in the drawing snake-charm of his eyes and even her butterflies faded, dissolving into the curling warmth that had nothing to do with her brain.
Palms flat against her sides, Miles marveled that he could nearly span Regan’s waist with his hands. His touch was warm and smooth as it rose from the top of her hips upward until his thumbs grazed the band of her bra, slowly worrying the skin below. Locked in her sea green gaze, Miles tracked higher still, barely brushing the gentle under-curve of her breasts. “You are so lovely,” he said, his voice low and gruff.
His words registered, but dimly, the timbre of his voice louder to her than what he'd said, nearly as much of a caress as the dizzying sweep of his thumbs over oh-so-sensitive flesh, the silk translating the fever of his touch as though it wasn't there. Shuddering in delicious anticipation, Regan tugged at him, eager to follow the spiral of longing she felt, Miles' own desire making her greedy with want.
"Touch me," she whispered, thrilling at the spark that lit his eyes.
It was a request he was not inclined to turn down. Careful to watch for any sign of alarm, Miles eased Regan’s shirt over her head and laid it over the back of the sofa. Fingers tracing the silky cup, kneading, he pulled her closer to press his lips to the exposed slope of one soft mound, kissing and sucking lightly at her satin-like skin.
The gasp his attentions earned sped his blood and made him ache with desire. Despite his noble intentions, being with Regan never failed to draw out his base instincts, and Miles’ hand moved to loose the delicate garment that still covered her.
Every brush and press of Miles' lips, the darts of fire as he tasted her, raced like waves over her body, making her skin feel tight and infinite all at once. Each new caress seemed to supercede the last in intensity, magnifying her hunger for his touch and the sense that she was waiting for something important. Harsh breaths and needy sounds spilled from her unbidden, her fingers grasping at Miles' shoulder and hair, nails grazing skin and scalp as he kindled her.
Regan could feel the rosy hue paint her face and chest as the clasp at her back was released and Miles drew the soft blue lace away, revealing her to his gaze. The heat of passion in his eyes made her forget her shyness, and she offered another breathy 'please' in encouragement.
Her little noises, somehow both wanton and innocent, and the quiet plea that fell from her lips nearly broke through the last of his threadbare restraint. Miles rolled them, bracing himself above her as he looked at her beauty in wonder. Though it had not been said aloud, he knew that no other had looked upon Regan this way, touched her as he did. Cupping her cheek, his eyes were warm with affection and want. “My girl,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her lips.
Ever so slowly, his hand mapped the skin of her neck and chest; his lips following after as if to dot the towns along the road. A dot for the beating of her pulse, another for the pointed ends of each clavicle. His tongue traced a river in the valley between her breasts before he tasted the rosy peak of each mountain. Moving lower still, Miles smoothed his palm, warm and solid, over her stomach until he reached the button of Regan’s trousers. “Trust me. I will not give you cause to regret it.”
With a strangled cry of protest as the sinuous wet heat of his mouth left her breast, Regan stilled her focus to the deliberate path of Miles' hand, trembling minutely with the sharp flutter in her stomach. She blinked slowly as Miles spoke, her thoughts clouded with the vivid haze of her body's pleasure, and shivered as she understood his words. There was no question in trusting him; she did, and while the exhilaration she felt was akin to that of edging along a cliff, she was not apprehensive at his request.
A trace of smile played at the corners of her lips as she raised her eyes to his expectant ones, and she nodded her assent, savoring the quick jolt of excitement that assailed her as he tugged and the button slid free.
Pleased with the surety Regan seemed to have in her choice, he unfastened her zipper next, keeping his eyes trained on her face so that he could watch her every reaction. Unhurried, Miles let his hand disappear beneath her trousers and the silky knickers underneath. He loved the way her eyes widened as he cupped her heat, and the cry of surprise and pleasure when he slipped a finger between her folds. Seeking her center, Miles teased the sensitive nub, a predatory smile curling his lips as she moved against his hand.
Gasping at the swift, sudden burst of pleasure each flick of his fingertip sent spiraling through her, Regan arched into the touch, her hands roaming Miles’ chest and arms restlessly, gripping at him as she writhed. Glowing warmth trickled along her veins, heightened by the intense regard in which he held her and the wickedness tinting his features. She couldn’t mind his amusement, or anything else, at present, lost in his eyes and the sweet dance he controlled.
Regan’s light touch, never resting anywhere more than a moment as he taxed her ability to focus on anything but the movement of his fingers, and the way her body instinctively sought more of the delicious torment made him long to see her face when the coiling tension finally burst into uncontrollable bliss. “That’s it, love, just let it feel good,” he coaxed as he eased one finger inside her. The heat of her tight passage, slick with desire, pulled a moan from Miles’ lips and he bent to suckle at her breast, the need for a distraction from his own desire too great to ignore.
Her fingers flying to curl into Miles' hair, Regan lost a whimper, soft with the rush of air as her inner muscles accepted the intrusion, and she rocked against his palm without meaning to. The glorious liquid tug of his mouth made it difficult not to thrash beneath him, and as he'd bidden, she didn't fight to be still, letting herself follow the rhythm his lips and fingers set, her eyes falling closed on the image of Miles' head at her breast because sight was simply too overwhelming to process.
In the visual quiet, she realized she was reaching for something, undulating enticingly just outside of comprehension, before the maelstrom claimed her again. On a cry as his teeth grazed her, she managed, "Miles," forcing her eyes open to watch him.
Gods, she was enticing. Everything she felt was reacted to physically, verbally. Her body writhed beneath him, unable to hold back even if she wished it. Dragging his thumb heavily over her center, Miles’ finger tracked her inner curve as he delighted in the buck of Regan’s hips. He raised his eyes to hers and prompted, “Let go, love. Let me see you swept away.”
As though his direction solved the mystery of that which she’d been seeking, Regan felt the sliding warmth Miles had been feeding curl tightly within her, and time stopped for a long heartbeat, her body frozen in the searing bliss of her release. Her breath returned in a muffled little shriek as she shuddered, clutching at his arms to anchor herself. The stutters of residual sensation bowed her in smaller waves, forcing a few tears from the corners of her eyes at the overpowering wash of connection that drew her back to Miles.
Stilling eventually, her breathing still riddled with tiny hitches, she pulled at him tentatively, craving the security of an embrace after the frenzy of her fall.
Gathering Regan close as he shifted back beside her, Miles brushed the tears from her face. “Good girl,” he said quietly, following his words with a soft kiss. This was all new to her and overwhelming, so for several minutes he simply held her, comforting caresses smoothed along her still-bare skin as she cuddled against him. “Are you alright?” he asked at length. “I haven’t frightened you?”
Shaking her head where she rested against his shoulder, stirring enough to lay a hand at his cheek, Regan murmured, "No... not frightened." She was still a bit shocked, her brain muddled with new experience and a dizzying whirl of emotion, but his petting soothed her, and the lingering thrum of pleasure was blessedly mellow.
It was an effort to lift her head, suffused with delicious lassitude as she felt right then, but she roused to look at Miles, a shy curve playing at her lips. "I feel amazing just now, actually."
Tugging a blanket from the back of the sofa, Miles spread it over them and dusted a series of light kisses over her mouth. “Amazing is good.” His expression turned more serious and he met her gaze. “If you haven’t already, it would be a good idea to see your healer and ask about potions to prevent pregnancy. I’m not trying to rush you, but it’s best if we’re prepared.”
“I’ve taken it since third year,” Regan assured him, and though the mention made her blush, she was glad for his concern. “It has applications aside from the obvious, and no one is fond of my mood without it.” Tristan had insisted, in fact, but given their current position, she didn’t feel the need to think of him.
Miles nodded, pleased to have that sorted. Not that he was opposed to having children, but he wanted it to be in his own time, and preferably after he married. None of that was important just this moment though, while Regan was still pressed against him, bare-chested and beautiful. And none of his planning for the future eased the ache of want he felt at having her near, languid after her sexual awakening.
Taking her hand, he linked their fingers and smiled. “It pleases me to have your trust. I enjoy making you feel good and cherished, and if you aren’t ready then that will be the end of it, but if you’re willing, I’d like you to do something for me.”
"Yes," Regan agreed immediately, quite willing to reciprocate the affection he'd shown her. She wriggled against Miles eagerly, her awareness of the swell of his arousal nestled at the hollow of her hip making her pulse race with longing once more. Her eyes were bright as she watched him, anxious in both her curiosity and the desire to please.
“Thank you,” he said, stroking his thumb across cheek. Miles tugged his jumper over his head, more to enjoy the feeling of skin on skin than out of necessity, then moved to unfasten his trousers. Pushing the fabric low on his hips, he freed his erection from its confines and gently led Regan’s small hand to it. A rough exhale escaped him as her fingers curled around his length, and covering her hand with his own, Miles led her to slide over him firmly, his hips rocking in time with the motion. “Yes, just like that.”
Surprised by the softness of the skin beneath her hand but excited at the ability to make his body respond as he'd done for her, she let Miles guide her touch, reclining against his chest in order to watch the combined motion of their hands. Feeling him thrust into her grasp stirred the memory of his finger stroking inside her, coaxing the starburst of her pleasure, and she shivered, contemplating this motion plunging him into her body. The rarely-visited thought usually evoked a fuzzy sort of apprehension, the idea of giving herself fully to a lover a vague mystery at best, but lying in Miles' arms with her caress intimate upon him, she wanted, and knew without qualm that he would understand and cherish her gift.
Abuzz with her certainty and the hum of renewed passion, she turned her face up to kiss him fiercely, sliding her free hand through his hair.
Miles was slightly stunned by the passion in Regan’s kiss, but matched it easily, releasing his hold on the hand she worked over his stiff flesh so that he could mirror her action and twine his fingers in her hair. That she was eager to bring him the same blissful release he’d sought to provide was clear, and her willingness and desire to please him was incredibly alluring. Relishing the press of her breasts against his chest and the steady glide of her hand, the rush of pleasure came quickly. He tensed, eyes squeezing shut as he moaned deeply and the surge of ecstasy overtook him.
The tug of Miles' grip in her hair and his moan vibrating against her lips drew Regan's attention back to the smooth slip of her fingers over his flesh, and she stroked him until he seemed to settle, the sudden tension draining from his frame. Retrieving her wand from the sleeve of her discarded shirt, she cleaned the warm stickiness of his climax from both of them, then tucked herself back into the curve of his arm, burrowing contentedly.
Smiling affectionately at the tiny woman snuggled against him, Miles' arms circled her. He had not invited Regan over with the intention of seducing her, but his lover did not seem to be unhappy with the turn of events, and the sweet languor from his own release was still with him. No, Miles couldn’t find a single thing to lament about the way things had progressed.
“You did very well,” he praised as his hands ran lazily over her back. “I’m feeling rather amazing myself now.”
Regan giggled softly at his theft of her phrase, delighted to have pleased him. "You should," she murmured, stretching to press herself against his hands and nuzzling the bare plane of his shoulder, "you've been very patient with me... and I do realize that isn't especially fulfilling, of itself."
“I won’t pretend I wouldn’t very much like to make love to you,” Miles admitted, waggling his brows playfully. “And when that day comes, if it comes, you’ll want to clear your schedule because I’ll be making up for lost time. For now, though, I’m happy to have you with me, no matter what the activity. You’re worth the wait.”
She pinkened at his statement and the tease in his expression, smiling faintly, then let her gaze fall away, laying her head at his chest, quiet.
Worth. It was one of the words she struggled with; even understanding that she was loved and mattered to the people she'd let close to her didn't erase the hateful connotations she'd learned were shadows of that concept, and hearing it in Miles' voice gripped her heart in a cold fist until she made herself listen. The thawing was swift enough to hurt, his affirmation cocooning her more deeply in the aegis of security his presence always granted, and she damped the rising bubble of tears ruthlessly, unwilling to worry him over her foolishness.
"I'll keep that in mind," she answered eventually.
He felt the pensiveness come over her, though there was no outward evidence beyond her sudden quiet and the stilling of her movements to seek more of his touch, and Miles bid her to meet his eyes with a finger light against her chin. When her green eyes lifted hesitantly to his, he met them seriously. “Do. I won’t have anyone thinking ill of the woman I care for, not even herself. I’m not known for making time in my life for just anyone. I spend time with you because it pleases me and because you are a woman of quality.”
She was silent as he spoke, absorbing, and when he'd finished she reached up to touch him, cradling his jaw in her hands. Words were insufficient, and she had none; she rose to kiss him, breathing a little sigh that loosed the hold of her doubt. His ability to read her was comforting, but moreso his faith in choosing to court her, to try his not inconsiderable patience with her inexperience made him that much more a wonder to her, and she tried to say with her lips against his what she could not with her voice.
Miles met her with feeling, hoping that her reaction to his statement went deeper than just appreciation of his thoughts about her. He wanted her to believe what he’d said. Harping on the point wouldn’t do any good, though, and there was a beautiful, half-naked woman in his arms. Everything else could wait.
Summary: Miles and Regan spend the evening together. (NC-17)
It was half six when the crack of Apparation alerted him to Regan’s arrival and Miles rose from his desk, stretching the kinks from his back after a long day of sitting. He found her in his entryway, and a smile spread as she turned toward the sound of his footsteps. The anticipation and pleasure he felt every time they got together was mirrored in Regan’s face; she never held her happiness at seeing him back. It was a look he loved seeing on her. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Enjoying the butterfly-giddy feeling she got every time she saw Miles, since it seemed it was never going away, Regan took the few steps into his space, sliding her arms around him. "Hello," she greeted, beaming up at him.
She'd been surprised by his owl, having thought he'd be too busy with his practice during the week to want to entertain, but no less delighted by the invitation for its unexpectedness. Regardless of what they chose to do, she liked being near Miles, and she'd found that the quiet moments they spent just sitting together, chatting or silent, were some of her favorites. He was peaceful, in a way that few people were, and much as she adored her household and their passion and exuberance, it was something she'd been missing. Not that passion doesn't also play into some moments beside the fire.
The thought tinted her cheeks immediately, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, chagrined. That, as well as the butterflies, appeared to be a lasting affliction.
Bending to steal a quick kiss from the pinkened face that was turned up to his, Miles slid an arm around her and started them back to the cozy, informal living area where he spent most evenings. A quick swish of his wand had a fire blazing in the hearth and he flopped onto the sofa, tugging Regan with him. He chuckled at her squeak of surprise, settling her in his lap as was usual when they sat together. He’d missed holding her, and the slight pressure of her form against his relaxed him in a way he hadn’t even realized was tense.
“That’s better. My lap has been chilled these last few days. It’s good to have my favorite warmer back where she belongs,” Miles teased. “You really shouldn’t run off for so long.”
Regan poked her tongue out at him briefly, though it was true that she preferred being exactly where she was, and didn't mind his pointing it out. "You do have work," she admonished, "and I think this might lessen your productivity somewhat."
“But it would brighten my day considerably,” came the ready retort. In truth, he’d prefer to keep Regan far away from a few of his clients and their business, but most of what he did these days was harmless enough, and the thought of having her pop by his office from time to time didn’t bother him in the slightest. Quite the opposite. “I’m always glad to have you near.”
"Mm, then you'll have to acquire more free time..." she pondered aloud, shifting to brush her lips across his, "or else install an ottoman for me in your office, though again, I see that being potentially problematic."
She ribbed him because he never minded; oftener than not it made him smile, and she enjoyed seeing his smile. In truth though, it made her warm and content to know that he wished for her presence as much as she did his, and she wrapped the memory of that feeling around herself when she missed his calming steadiness.
Shifting them again, Miles stretched out on the sofa so that Regan lay facing him, half on his chest and their legs entwined. “I suppose it could be troublesome. My clients might not appreciate my distraction, and I’m not sure I could resist kissing you if you were so close.”
As if to prove his point, he pressed his lips to hers gently, savoring what he’d been without the last few days. Twining his fingers into Regan’s soft hair, Miles drank her in as he enjoyed the feeling of her body against his from top to bottom.
With a hum of pleasure, all her senses instantly alive and singing at having the length of herself draped along Miles, Regan surrendered to his kiss, her hands finding purchase in the knit of his jumper. She was certain she could never tire of this; tasting one another for the simple joy and rightness of it, and she subsided in his arms, content to give him what he would have of her.
It was so easy to lose himself in Regan. Miles pulled her closer until she was nearly on top of him, letting his hand slip beneath her shirt to skim over the smooth plane of her back. The sensation of her skin beneath his fingers had a low growl of want rising from deep within his chest as he deepened their kiss. Her taste was sweet, her body warm and pliant. Miles knew he could have more of her, and the thought was so, so tempting.
Arching into the electric caress of Miles' fingertips across her bare skin, the current of heat dancing along her nerves as he fed at her mouth, Regan loosed his clothing and shoved her hands into his hair, writhing perforce at the cacophony of sensation. She broke from his lips to find his eyes, her own liquid and bright with awareness, hissing a soft "Yes" as he tracked the ridges of her spine with a light touch.
She was so beautiful when desire lit her from within and Miles’ eye darkened as he returned, “Yes?” Studying each restless movement, his fingers tracked the curve of Regan’s ribs from back to front, then down the cage and around to her spine again. The quick rise and fall of her chest and soft panting breaths as she shivered beneath his caress were mesmerizing.
Moving her grip to his shoulders, she braced herself on her forearms, trying to give him better access to her skin, the fleeting touches spreading gooseflesh everywhere they ghosted.
"Miles,please," Regan entreated, swaying with the helpless twisting of her body, seeking the heat of his hands and the sweet high they promised. She could feel her reason falter, protesting feebly, and didn't care; she was safe in the drawing snake-charm of his eyes and even her butterflies faded, dissolving into the curling warmth that had nothing to do with her brain.
Palms flat against her sides, Miles marveled that he could nearly span Regan’s waist with his hands. His touch was warm and smooth as it rose from the top of her hips upward until his thumbs grazed the band of her bra, slowly worrying the skin below. Locked in her sea green gaze, Miles tracked higher still, barely brushing the gentle under-curve of her breasts. “You are so lovely,” he said, his voice low and gruff.
His words registered, but dimly, the timbre of his voice louder to her than what he'd said, nearly as much of a caress as the dizzying sweep of his thumbs over oh-so-sensitive flesh, the silk translating the fever of his touch as though it wasn't there. Shuddering in delicious anticipation, Regan tugged at him, eager to follow the spiral of longing she felt, Miles' own desire making her greedy with want.
"Touch me," she whispered, thrilling at the spark that lit his eyes.
It was a request he was not inclined to turn down. Careful to watch for any sign of alarm, Miles eased Regan’s shirt over her head and laid it over the back of the sofa. Fingers tracing the silky cup, kneading, he pulled her closer to press his lips to the exposed slope of one soft mound, kissing and sucking lightly at her satin-like skin.
The gasp his attentions earned sped his blood and made him ache with desire. Despite his noble intentions, being with Regan never failed to draw out his base instincts, and Miles’ hand moved to loose the delicate garment that still covered her.
Every brush and press of Miles' lips, the darts of fire as he tasted her, raced like waves over her body, making her skin feel tight and infinite all at once. Each new caress seemed to supercede the last in intensity, magnifying her hunger for his touch and the sense that she was waiting for something important. Harsh breaths and needy sounds spilled from her unbidden, her fingers grasping at Miles' shoulder and hair, nails grazing skin and scalp as he kindled her.
Regan could feel the rosy hue paint her face and chest as the clasp at her back was released and Miles drew the soft blue lace away, revealing her to his gaze. The heat of passion in his eyes made her forget her shyness, and she offered another breathy 'please' in encouragement.
Her little noises, somehow both wanton and innocent, and the quiet plea that fell from her lips nearly broke through the last of his threadbare restraint. Miles rolled them, bracing himself above her as he looked at her beauty in wonder. Though it had not been said aloud, he knew that no other had looked upon Regan this way, touched her as he did. Cupping her cheek, his eyes were warm with affection and want. “My girl,” he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her lips.
Ever so slowly, his hand mapped the skin of her neck and chest; his lips following after as if to dot the towns along the road. A dot for the beating of her pulse, another for the pointed ends of each clavicle. His tongue traced a river in the valley between her breasts before he tasted the rosy peak of each mountain. Moving lower still, Miles smoothed his palm, warm and solid, over her stomach until he reached the button of Regan’s trousers. “Trust me. I will not give you cause to regret it.”
With a strangled cry of protest as the sinuous wet heat of his mouth left her breast, Regan stilled her focus to the deliberate path of Miles' hand, trembling minutely with the sharp flutter in her stomach. She blinked slowly as Miles spoke, her thoughts clouded with the vivid haze of her body's pleasure, and shivered as she understood his words. There was no question in trusting him; she did, and while the exhilaration she felt was akin to that of edging along a cliff, she was not apprehensive at his request.
A trace of smile played at the corners of her lips as she raised her eyes to his expectant ones, and she nodded her assent, savoring the quick jolt of excitement that assailed her as he tugged and the button slid free.
Pleased with the surety Regan seemed to have in her choice, he unfastened her zipper next, keeping his eyes trained on her face so that he could watch her every reaction. Unhurried, Miles let his hand disappear beneath her trousers and the silky knickers underneath. He loved the way her eyes widened as he cupped her heat, and the cry of surprise and pleasure when he slipped a finger between her folds. Seeking her center, Miles teased the sensitive nub, a predatory smile curling his lips as she moved against his hand.
Gasping at the swift, sudden burst of pleasure each flick of his fingertip sent spiraling through her, Regan arched into the touch, her hands roaming Miles’ chest and arms restlessly, gripping at him as she writhed. Glowing warmth trickled along her veins, heightened by the intense regard in which he held her and the wickedness tinting his features. She couldn’t mind his amusement, or anything else, at present, lost in his eyes and the sweet dance he controlled.
Regan’s light touch, never resting anywhere more than a moment as he taxed her ability to focus on anything but the movement of his fingers, and the way her body instinctively sought more of the delicious torment made him long to see her face when the coiling tension finally burst into uncontrollable bliss. “That’s it, love, just let it feel good,” he coaxed as he eased one finger inside her. The heat of her tight passage, slick with desire, pulled a moan from Miles’ lips and he bent to suckle at her breast, the need for a distraction from his own desire too great to ignore.
Her fingers flying to curl into Miles' hair, Regan lost a whimper, soft with the rush of air as her inner muscles accepted the intrusion, and she rocked against his palm without meaning to. The glorious liquid tug of his mouth made it difficult not to thrash beneath him, and as he'd bidden, she didn't fight to be still, letting herself follow the rhythm his lips and fingers set, her eyes falling closed on the image of Miles' head at her breast because sight was simply too overwhelming to process.
In the visual quiet, she realized she was reaching for something, undulating enticingly just outside of comprehension, before the maelstrom claimed her again. On a cry as his teeth grazed her, she managed, "Miles," forcing her eyes open to watch him.
Gods, she was enticing. Everything she felt was reacted to physically, verbally. Her body writhed beneath him, unable to hold back even if she wished it. Dragging his thumb heavily over her center, Miles’ finger tracked her inner curve as he delighted in the buck of Regan’s hips. He raised his eyes to hers and prompted, “Let go, love. Let me see you swept away.”
As though his direction solved the mystery of that which she’d been seeking, Regan felt the sliding warmth Miles had been feeding curl tightly within her, and time stopped for a long heartbeat, her body frozen in the searing bliss of her release. Her breath returned in a muffled little shriek as she shuddered, clutching at his arms to anchor herself. The stutters of residual sensation bowed her in smaller waves, forcing a few tears from the corners of her eyes at the overpowering wash of connection that drew her back to Miles.
Stilling eventually, her breathing still riddled with tiny hitches, she pulled at him tentatively, craving the security of an embrace after the frenzy of her fall.
Gathering Regan close as he shifted back beside her, Miles brushed the tears from her face. “Good girl,” he said quietly, following his words with a soft kiss. This was all new to her and overwhelming, so for several minutes he simply held her, comforting caresses smoothed along her still-bare skin as she cuddled against him. “Are you alright?” he asked at length. “I haven’t frightened you?”
Shaking her head where she rested against his shoulder, stirring enough to lay a hand at his cheek, Regan murmured, "No... not frightened." She was still a bit shocked, her brain muddled with new experience and a dizzying whirl of emotion, but his petting soothed her, and the lingering thrum of pleasure was blessedly mellow.
It was an effort to lift her head, suffused with delicious lassitude as she felt right then, but she roused to look at Miles, a shy curve playing at her lips. "I feel amazing just now, actually."
Tugging a blanket from the back of the sofa, Miles spread it over them and dusted a series of light kisses over her mouth. “Amazing is good.” His expression turned more serious and he met her gaze. “If you haven’t already, it would be a good idea to see your healer and ask about potions to prevent pregnancy. I’m not trying to rush you, but it’s best if we’re prepared.”
“I’ve taken it since third year,” Regan assured him, and though the mention made her blush, she was glad for his concern. “It has applications aside from the obvious, and no one is fond of my mood without it.” Tristan had insisted, in fact, but given their current position, she didn’t feel the need to think of him.
Miles nodded, pleased to have that sorted. Not that he was opposed to having children, but he wanted it to be in his own time, and preferably after he married. None of that was important just this moment though, while Regan was still pressed against him, bare-chested and beautiful. And none of his planning for the future eased the ache of want he felt at having her near, languid after her sexual awakening.
Taking her hand, he linked their fingers and smiled. “It pleases me to have your trust. I enjoy making you feel good and cherished, and if you aren’t ready then that will be the end of it, but if you’re willing, I’d like you to do something for me.”
"Yes," Regan agreed immediately, quite willing to reciprocate the affection he'd shown her. She wriggled against Miles eagerly, her awareness of the swell of his arousal nestled at the hollow of her hip making her pulse race with longing once more. Her eyes were bright as she watched him, anxious in both her curiosity and the desire to please.
“Thank you,” he said, stroking his thumb across cheek. Miles tugged his jumper over his head, more to enjoy the feeling of skin on skin than out of necessity, then moved to unfasten his trousers. Pushing the fabric low on his hips, he freed his erection from its confines and gently led Regan’s small hand to it. A rough exhale escaped him as her fingers curled around his length, and covering her hand with his own, Miles led her to slide over him firmly, his hips rocking in time with the motion. “Yes, just like that.”
Surprised by the softness of the skin beneath her hand but excited at the ability to make his body respond as he'd done for her, she let Miles guide her touch, reclining against his chest in order to watch the combined motion of their hands. Feeling him thrust into her grasp stirred the memory of his finger stroking inside her, coaxing the starburst of her pleasure, and she shivered, contemplating this motion plunging him into her body. The rarely-visited thought usually evoked a fuzzy sort of apprehension, the idea of giving herself fully to a lover a vague mystery at best, but lying in Miles' arms with her caress intimate upon him, she wanted, and knew without qualm that he would understand and cherish her gift.
Abuzz with her certainty and the hum of renewed passion, she turned her face up to kiss him fiercely, sliding her free hand through his hair.
Miles was slightly stunned by the passion in Regan’s kiss, but matched it easily, releasing his hold on the hand she worked over his stiff flesh so that he could mirror her action and twine his fingers in her hair. That she was eager to bring him the same blissful release he’d sought to provide was clear, and her willingness and desire to please him was incredibly alluring. Relishing the press of her breasts against his chest and the steady glide of her hand, the rush of pleasure came quickly. He tensed, eyes squeezing shut as he moaned deeply and the surge of ecstasy overtook him.
The tug of Miles' grip in her hair and his moan vibrating against her lips drew Regan's attention back to the smooth slip of her fingers over his flesh, and she stroked him until he seemed to settle, the sudden tension draining from his frame. Retrieving her wand from the sleeve of her discarded shirt, she cleaned the warm stickiness of his climax from both of them, then tucked herself back into the curve of his arm, burrowing contentedly.
Smiling affectionately at the tiny woman snuggled against him, Miles' arms circled her. He had not invited Regan over with the intention of seducing her, but his lover did not seem to be unhappy with the turn of events, and the sweet languor from his own release was still with him. No, Miles couldn’t find a single thing to lament about the way things had progressed.
“You did very well,” he praised as his hands ran lazily over her back. “I’m feeling rather amazing myself now.”
Regan giggled softly at his theft of her phrase, delighted to have pleased him. "You should," she murmured, stretching to press herself against his hands and nuzzling the bare plane of his shoulder, "you've been very patient with me... and I do realize that isn't especially fulfilling, of itself."
“I won’t pretend I wouldn’t very much like to make love to you,” Miles admitted, waggling his brows playfully. “And when that day comes, if it comes, you’ll want to clear your schedule because I’ll be making up for lost time. For now, though, I’m happy to have you with me, no matter what the activity. You’re worth the wait.”
She pinkened at his statement and the tease in his expression, smiling faintly, then let her gaze fall away, laying her head at his chest, quiet.
Worth. It was one of the words she struggled with; even understanding that she was loved and mattered to the people she'd let close to her didn't erase the hateful connotations she'd learned were shadows of that concept, and hearing it in Miles' voice gripped her heart in a cold fist until she made herself listen. The thawing was swift enough to hurt, his affirmation cocooning her more deeply in the aegis of security his presence always granted, and she damped the rising bubble of tears ruthlessly, unwilling to worry him over her foolishness.
"I'll keep that in mind," she answered eventually.
He felt the pensiveness come over her, though there was no outward evidence beyond her sudden quiet and the stilling of her movements to seek more of his touch, and Miles bid her to meet his eyes with a finger light against her chin. When her green eyes lifted hesitantly to his, he met them seriously. “Do. I won’t have anyone thinking ill of the woman I care for, not even herself. I’m not known for making time in my life for just anyone. I spend time with you because it pleases me and because you are a woman of quality.”
She was silent as he spoke, absorbing, and when he'd finished she reached up to touch him, cradling his jaw in her hands. Words were insufficient, and she had none; she rose to kiss him, breathing a little sigh that loosed the hold of her doubt. His ability to read her was comforting, but moreso his faith in choosing to court her, to try his not inconsiderable patience with her inexperience made him that much more a wonder to her, and she tried to say with her lips against his what she could not with her voice.
Miles met her with feeling, hoping that her reaction to his statement went deeper than just appreciation of his thoughts about her. He wanted her to believe what he’d said. Harping on the point wouldn’t do any good, though, and there was a beautiful, half-naked woman in his arms. Everything else could wait.
Summary: Miles and Regan spend the evening together. (NC-17)