Tuesday night

[keira_nightly]

[That night.]Keira's belly hurts from laughing, her throat hoarse and her mouth set in a permanent grin when she clambers out of Paul's car onto the drive of her building. Nic is usually fairly adept at convincing him to drive them to and from places if neither of them feel like being particularly responsible, and that's most of the time

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[billboyd]

"Mmm," he says. "Something Nic and I agree on

[keira_nightly]

Once she gets a better hold on the holler that wants to roar out, she unclenches her jaw and squirms against the lukewarm wood of the armoire, riding the hard thrust of Bill's hand. She can't help the full-body shudder each time there's an edge of teeth in the hard sucks of Bill's mouth.

"Fuck. Bill, yeah, that's good, that's very good, yeah, yes..."

Her mouth is slack now but her words are soft and mumbled by habit, because she knows she sounds silly dirty-talking for Johnny, no matter what Johnny says, or Nic, or Orlando that one time. It never comes naturally on the prop bed, but she's started to get used to it with Bill, and the words sound less awkward and forced when he's the one begging for them.

[billboyd]

He loves the fucking sound of her voice when she's muttering approving words he doesn't think she is entirely in control of, loves the way it rises and falls with her breathing, so that 'yes' becomes siblant and prolonged and his name slides from between her lips as a husky purr.

His cock is fucking aching in his dress trousers and his hips are doing that thing they do with her that they've never actually done with anyone else, some sort of gently insistent rocking motion that has nothing to do with anything other than the fact that he can't quite keep them still when she whimpers like this, unselfconsciously needy (he hasn't quite got the hang of unselfconscious yet, but he's getting better); the motion doesn't really provide any friction, only a shifting of the constriction his trousers are inflicting on him, but it's still pretty fucking good, something sultry and harsh about the denial of pressure and pleasure while he listens to her coming apart

[keira_nightly]

She'd only dimly aware of what Bill asks, and what he does when she finds herself empty again, shaking and burning with the last clenches of orgasm. She makes her eyes crack open (they take a moment to focus); through heavy lashes she sees him lick her off his own fingers, eyes closed, cheeks flushed and hair mussed.

There's a tight clench in her belly at the sight, something that's not quite as white-hot as the lust boiling over in her limbs and chest, but something bright (yellow, she feels, buttery and warm) that makes her hold her breath for a second as she reaches for him again. Her fingers curve gently at the back of his neck and he lets her sink down to him, pulling him closer.

[billboyd]

His lips slide rather naturally along her collarbone -- or at least he doesn't recall consciously directing them there -- as she curls her fingers around the back of his neck, tugging him close. He slides his arms around her waist and lets his brow rest, just for a moment, against the ridge of her shoulder.

She is feathering kisses over the top of his head, and he smiles faintly, desperately aware of her naked thighs on either side of his, still clad in his rapidly-becoming-extraneous trousers, of the feel of her hands on his back, stroking, the feel of her breasts barely brushing high up on his chest, their height disparity magnified by the position, yet he has no real urge to move immediately.

He is comfortable here, in her arms.

"I'm sorry, Keira," he murmurs, and doesn't quite manage to issue the apology and look up at her at the same time. "For last night. For scaring you."

[keira_nightly]

There's the tingle of climax and that of the growing need to have Bill inside, and they almost eclipse the tingle at the back of her throat that makes her arms tighten around him for a heartbeat.

"I'm just not used to caring for someone quite this much, you know?," she murmurs and moves to feel her way down his chest, cupping his cock through the crotch of his pants. He hisses and groans when she does, but stays otherwise silent, still not looking up at her.

"Come to bed with me," she says, a strange echo of the first time she asked him to, and pulls them both up and onto the bed, where she straddles him and kisses him hard enough to bruise her own lips on his teeth.

[billboyd]

He doesn't have time to say no, even if he'd wanted to (which he doesn't, he's not a bloody moron) before she has him on his back on her bed

[keira_nightly]

Bill isn't still or loose enough for Keira to push the shirt off him so she just leaves it open, dragging her nails down his chest and stomach when she pulls away. Bill's teeth tug on her lips before he lets go too, a muted whine dying in his throat, muffled by a rushed exhale

[billboyd]

He lets his head fall back at the feel of her lips on his cock, the slick, dexterous heat of her tongue swirling around the head, pushing back his foreskin and then pressing gently at the slit. His hips stutter upward, and he thinks about moaning or something, but he can't quite get the breath for something that directed. Instead it sounds a bit like he's choking.

The hand that she doesn't have wrapped around the base of his cock is curled gently around his balls. He can feel the side of her thumb pressing between them lightly, then sweeping across that tender, shivering skin, and his legs shift wider without his permission or direction. Oh, he wants to say, or maybe yeah, but he says nothing because his lungs have locked up tight, though every time her soft little fist clenches gently around his balls his breath is shoved out of him in tremulous gusts

[keira_nightly]

She pauses, half a second, the space of a breath; she can't fucking get enough of that, the strangled cry, the unselfconscious cracking of his voice when it gets out, surrender made into sound

[billboyd]

At least she doesn't have nails, is the first thing he thinks, quickly followed by Surely she doesn't mean to-- which is interrupted by the recollection that she's a porn star, right, and a porn star that generally shags other porn stars, who probably don't have any reservations about... that.

Like Nic, who only subs for girls.

Um..., he thinks, and then her lips are descending again, not around his cock -- her hand is taking care of that now, steady, tight strokes creating an urgently pleasant twisting at the base of his spine -- but across his balls, lips warm and sucking, tongue wet and lapping, and he can hear himself gasping desperately. His hips twist upward, beyond his ability to still this time, and she obligingly swipes her tongue lower. The slick, hot pressure of her tongue on the underside of his nuts is enough to unwire him, leave him snarling wordlessly and helplessly up at the ceiling, aware of her hand on the back of his thigh, pressing it up, presumably to give her room, but absolutely unable to resist it and

[keira_nightly]

There's something to be said for clutter, she supposes, when a shift of her hips against the mattress early revealed, in true pornographic deus ex machina style, her tube of lube amidst the folds of the sheets, where they'd lost it sometime the night before. They'd gone without in the end; this, however, she'd rather have it for

[billboyd]

He shifts, silent and tense, and wonders if he should open his eyes or say something encouraging or possibly not encouraging, possibly something that would cause her to remove her finger from his arse (and honestly, that's not something it had occurred to him to be worried about amongst all his other worries

[keira_nightly]

Obviously, it isn't

[billboyd]

He murmurs agreement into her mouth, and it is better, actually, is actually really really good and not weird feeling in the slightest, except for the part where he's fairly sure no one other than himself has ever touched him there before (and he's not even sure he's actually ever touched himself there), but her fingertips are light and slick and warm, and the feeling of gently insistenet pressure is good, hot, tingly

[keira_nightly]

The hand in her hair is no longer tugging but fisting tightly. She smiles and moans throatily at the feel of his chest hair against her nipples, and the wet streak of his cock against her stomach.

"Will you let me touch you again?" His breath hitches against her mouth, and if there's reluctance in his non-answer, it's superceded by the evident spark her words are already kindling. She nudges his thigh higher with hers and he opens up without resistence, opens up for her, just as the muscles underneath her fingertips clench tightly, then loosen when she slides her tongue into his mouth again, licking hotly. "I want to be inside you, Bill, like that." She presses a fingertip against his hole again, intent but still not insistent yet. "Fuck you and suck your cock till you come screaming." He's stopped breathing again, and she nips at the prickly angle of his jaw, breathing the last word low. "Will you let me?"

Funny how even though she's the one asking, grammatically speaking, he's the one about to beg.