I've got a burning in my chest, it's calling for your thighs (NC-17)
Promptly at seven, Lysander arrived outside Parkinson Manor. He rapped smartly on the door and waited for one of the elves to let him in. It had been quite a while since he’d turned up on Pansy’s doorstep, and he found this time brought a sense of excitement and anticipation beyond what he’d felt in previous visits. Being a grown up seemed to agree with him. So far.
The large front door swung open, revealing a tiny house elf in a neatly pressed tea towel. Bowing low, she ushered Lysander into the spacious foyer. “Mistress is expecting you, sir. She will be down shortly.”
“Thank you,” he replied, offering the small creature a smile. While he waited, Lysander casually surveyed the surroundings. Nothing had changed, and yet it all had. He was shaking his head thoughtfully when the light tap of high heels reached his ears. Turning, his lips curled at the sight walking toward him.
“Hello there, love. You look beautiful.”
She’d not meant to alert him to her presence quite yet, but the sound of her heels on the marble foyer had betrayed her. Despite that, she couldn’t stop the curl of her lips at the sight of him. “Thank you,” she replied, stopping in front of him. It was instinctive to reach up to smooth his lapel. “You’re looking quite dapper yourself.”
“Figured I owed you a bit of effort, after everything,” he said, eyes twinkling. “And a proper hello.” With that he pulled her against him and bent to capture her full lips. There was no hurry, just a thorough exploration of the lips he’d known quite well once upon a time. They’d both grown up since those days, and Pansy had a woman’s curves beneath his hands, and kissed him back with the surety of experience gained in the intervening years.
She hummed in agreement as she slid her hands up his chest and around to the back of his neck, the fingers of one hand twining in the short strands of his hair. “It’s the least you can do, truly,” she murmured, pulling back to fix him with an amused blue gaze.
“Hmmm, you’re lucky I do owe you or else I might be inclined to forget our plans and go upstairs to ruin all the work you put in getting ready,” he murmured, letting his eyes rake over her curve-hugging dress.
“Who says I’d let you?” she asked with a raised brow. She stepped away with an impish little smirk curling her lips. “Maxwell,” she called, raising her voice, “my cloak.”
Lips curling as the elf brought Pansy’s cloak, Lysander took the garment and helped her into it. As he reached around her, fastening the clasp, his mouth rested beside her ear. “Haven’t we established that you can’t say no to me? Besides, you want me inside you as badly as I do.”
His words sent a shudder over her skin, and she inwardly cursed the visceral way her body reacted to his words. Damn him. Just for that, she was not letting him carry her upstairs without making an effort.
“That,” she murmured, “sounds like a challenge. Did you honestly think after ten years that you wouldn’t have to exert any effort for it?”
A low chuckle filled the small space between them. “Oh, Pansy, I plan to put in a lot of effort.” Straightening, he held out his arm, every inch the gentleman but for the twist of his lips. “You’ll see. Later.”
Pansy placed her hand in the crook of his arm and raised one eyebrow in expectation. “I’m waiting to be impressed.”
A dark-eyed wink, and they disapparated, reappearing moments later in the vestibule set aside for magical arrivals at Mon Plaisir. Lysander guided Pansy as they were shown to their seats, waving off the maitre’d and pulling out her chair himself. Once his companion was seated, he settled across from her, and ordered them a bottle of chardonnay when the sommelier visited the table. “How am I doing so far, then? Any terrible cock ups you’ll need to scold me for later?”
A dark brow rose as she idly surveyed the small, intimate restaurant. “Not as yet, no,” she replied, lips curling when her gaze met his. “But we’ve only just arrived, darling.”
“Your confidence in me is flattering, as always,” he teased. The wine arrived and Lysander lifted his glass. “To the first of many such evenings.”
“To your optimism,” Pansy retorted, clinking her glass against his. That there would be more evenings such as this, she had no doubt -- nay, she hoped there would. But it was too easy to fall back into old routines, to tease her suitor.
Leaning in, his voice lowered, his words only for Pansy’s ears. “In the spirit of that optimism, here’s to that lovely dress in a heap on the floor, and my name echoing off your walls.” Two could play the taunting game.
She quirked her head to the side, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. Her blue eyes gleamed with a faint hint of a challenge as she too leaned in closer. “Here’s to making you regret every last second you’ve gone without me.”
“Oh, but regret can be sweet.” He sipped his beverage and returned to a relaxed lounge in his chair. Neither of them were particularly interested in the actual plans they had for the evening. It would be fun to see just how long they’d make it before they abandoned all pretense and simply retired back to Pansy’s home so he could make love to her until she’d screamed herself hoarse. “And... inspirational.”
“Can it?” One dark brow lifted as she mimicked his pose and reclined in her seat. “Then I look forward to seeing what sort of inspiration you’ve stored in reserve.”
“And I look forward to showing you. Now,” he said, pointedly picking up his menu, “see what you want to eat. I imagine you’ll be needing the energy later.”
Pansy sniffed and lifted the menu to regard the contents. “You might want to order the oysters, darling,” she commented lightly, meeting his gaze over the menu.
Lips twitching, he raised a brow. “Are you suggesting I’ll need assistance getting excited? I can assure you that I’m well and truly ready for the challenge.” He’d wanted Pansy since they were in school. Finally quenching that thirst was all the aphrodisiac he needed.
She raised her glass to her lips and smiled, taking a long sip of her chardonnay. “Do you need assistance? I should hope not. But some things are much more... enjoyable with a little nudge.”
Under the table, her foot traced along the inside of his calf, slowly moving up towards his knee.
“By all means, nudge to your heart’s content.” Reaching a hand under the table, he stroked the petite foot steadily climbing his leg, then let it skim over the length of calf he was able to reach. “I’m not much of a fan of oysters, but I’m sure I’ll find something on the menu with a similar reputation.”
As the time since they’d arrived at the restaurant had passed, Pansy had looked more and more favorably on her initial idea for the evening’s outfit -- a negligee and robe. No pretense of dinner. There was pleasure to be had in prolonging the eventual outcome of their time together, but she was finished with waiting.
She’d waited for twelve years.
Her foot slid away from his leg and back into its waiting high heel, and Pansy stood. Setting the menu down on the table, she walked around behind Lysander and leaned down, pressing her lips to the shell of his ear.
“I don’t want anything on the menu,” she breathed. “I want you to take me home, and I want you to make up for every second that has passed over the last twelve years.” Her tongue flicked his earlobe quickly, eliciting a shudder, and she whispered, “Now.”
The curl of his lips was predatory, and Lysander rose from his chair and placed his hand at the base of Pansy’s spine. With his other, he tossed enough money onto the table to pay for their wine and the waiter’s trouble. Without a word, he led her from the restaurant proper into the apparition point.
“As the lady wishes,” he murmured, before whisking them away.
It didn’t even register to Pansy that they’d left her cloak behind at the restaurant. As her feet landed on the gleaming marble floor of her foyer, she didn’t care about anything except twining her fingers in Lysander’s hair and bringing his lips down to hers in a hard, fierce kiss.
His arms wrapped around her, nearly lifting Pansy from her feet as he plundered her mouth. One hand rose to tangle in her dark locks, his grip tipping her head to allow him to drink more deeply of her. It had been years since they’d been so wrapped in one another, and never with the certainty of what was to come. Finally, finally he would claim her fully, and the thought brought a growl from his throat.
Every last bit of desire that had laid slumbering between them flared up as they grasped at one another, desperate for the contact denied them for so long. Pansy’s mind was hazy with want -- a want so keen it nearly pained her -- but she was loathe to break contact with him for a second longer; even if that second meant leading him to her bedroom.
Marshaling her concentration, Pansy Apparated them upstairs to the west wing, the entwined pair reappearing in her candlelit bedroom.
Immediately Lysander’s hand sought the zipper of Pansy’s dress, drawing it down with an urgency that matched the fire within him. The dress slid from her body and he lifted her, crossing the few steps to the large bed in the center of the room. It was the work of a moment to remove the towering heels she’d worn for their evening out and shrug out of his jacket before covering her body with his own. “You’re stunning,” he breathed as one large hand caressed the creamy expanse of skin he’d bared.
It was good to know that her diligence in choosing her lingerie for the evening hadn’t gone unnoticed -- though at the moment, she couldn’t have cared less. An appreciative sigh fell from her lips as his hands slid over her -- finally; her own hands going to the black silk tie knotted at his throat.
The length of silk slipped from his neck and was tossed aside. Ducking down, he trailed his lips along the soft curves spilling over the cups of her bra. Pansy’s skin was soft as silk, but he wanted to see all of her, taste all of her, and Lysander reached beneath her form to unclasp the garment separating him from the perfect globes.
No demure blush stained her cheeks as she pulled the bra away from her body, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. Her blue eyes were dark with desire, pupils dilated, and she met his gaze without a hint of modesty. It almost felt as if it were a dream; a moment she’d wanted for years -- Lysander, here, in her bed.
Reaching up, she traced the strong line of his jaw with the tip of her finger. He was finally hers.
With a quick kiss, his teeth tugging at her full lower lip as he pulled away again, Lysander dipped lower to taste one of the pink buds straining in anticipation of his attention. He laved the taut peak, alternating between gentle swipes of his tongue and the not-quite-sharp press of his teeth. Pansy was beautiful, he’d always known that, but as he relished his new acquaintance with her body, he had to wonder why it took him so long to act on that knowledge.
Pansy’s fingers slid through his hair as she sighed his name in pleasure. The press of his lips to her skin was intoxicating; the only thing that could be better would be his skin pressed against hers. One hand slid over the back of his neck, nails raking over his skin as her hand slipped to the button at his collar.
His eyes followed Pansy’s slender fingers as she reached for his shirt. Much as he was enjoying his current occupation, Lysander couldn’t deny the appeal of having her pressed fully against his with no barrier. Slipping an arm around her waist, he tugged her close and rolled them so that his lover was astride him. His lips twisted into a smirk and he curled a lock of dark hair around his finger as he said, “Go on, then. It should be easier to get my clothes off now.”
“I don’t know. I was quite enjoying my prior vantage point,” she murmured, flicking buttons open one by one until his shirt hung loosely on his torso. “You may have underestimated my skills, Lysander.”
“Or maybe I just wanted to watch you undress me,” he countered, casually reaching up to pinch a pert nipple and grinning wolfishly at the gasp it brought to her lips.
She drug one manicured nail down the center of his chest, drawing a red line on his skin. “And you couldn’t watch otherwise?”
“Not as comfortably,” he explained as he palmed one lovely breast, caressing the soft flesh happily. “I quite like watching you from this angle, and letting you have the freedom to touch as you like.”
“Do you?” she queried softly, arching one dark brow. Pansy ducked her head and pressed her lips to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, letting him feel her teeth as she trailed kisses across his throat.
“Very much.” Gripping her hips, he ground his arousal against her, the fabric between them making the movement no more than a tease. “Now, the quicker you get me out of these clothes, the quicker I’ll be making you scream.”
Her breath caught at the movement, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of capitulation. Not quite yet.
“Has no one told you patience is a virtue, Lysander?” she asked conversationally, one dark brow rising as she slowly undid his belt.
Rising up to rest on his elbows, he nibbled at her breast, tugging lightly with his teeth. “I thought twelve years was long enough and you were finished with patience? Suddenly the urgency has left you? You’re not dying to feel me buried inside you?”
Pansy bowed her head, her breath stirring the dark hair on top of his head. She flicked open the button to his trousers and drew the zipper down slowly. She was dying to have him inside of her, the way she’d once thought about, but she didn’t want to rush it. “I want to savor this,” she whispered.
“We have all night,” he reminded her gently as his fingers brushed the softness of Pansy’s cheek. He was anxious to know all of her, to figure out all the ways he could coax his name from her lips, but there was plenty of time. “We have nights to come. As much as I want to enjoy every inch of you, this is not the only chance we’ll have to learn about each other.”
She knew he was right, but there was still the nagging sense that something was going to happen. The other shoe was going to drop. It wasn’t necessarily rational, but it renewed her determination to savor this night with Lysander. With luck, there would be more. Many, many more.
Pansy’s hands went to his loose shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, moving surely as she pulled his undershirt up and over his head. Her lips found his in a soft kiss, and she made a soft, encouraging murmur as fingers tugged at his trousers.
Pulling away from their kiss, his hands covered hers and together they drew his trousers and pants down. “And yours, too, love,” he murmured with a pointed glance at the knickers she still wore. “Only fair as I am all laid out before you.”
He was; quite nicely. Pansy let her gaze linger on the long line of his tan torso, the line of hair leading below his navel down to his straining member. She couldn’t find fault with his logic. “Perhaps a helping hand might be available?” she asked, lips curling. “I’m sure you know what to do.”
“I believe I do,” he agreed. Pulling her close to his chest, Lysander rolled them. Taking his time, he nibbled his way down the length of Pansy’s lovely neck before nipping gently at the point of each collar bone. The breathy panting and minute twisting of her body as she found herself unable to keep still were deeply satisfying, and his eyes flicked up to his lover’s face as he traced the valley between her breasts with his tongue. She gasped when he suckled first at one breast and then the other, drawing the rosy tips into taut peaks before continuing his path down her body, tasting the hollow of her navel even as his fingers hooked in the delicate knickers she wore. Lysander pressed a lingering kiss to her center, over the lacy fabric, a last tease before he slid them from her body before covering her with his own.
Lysander’s teasing had fanned the burning want within her until it was nigh unbearable. Her breasts ached where they were crushed against his chest, and her thighs parted, knees on either side of his hips to welcome his body into hers.
“No more waiting,” she whispered in the small space between their lips.
A verbal reply was unnecessary, as he arched his back and sank into her waiting warmth, a low groan of appreciation escaping him at finally claiming her fully. Lips finding Pansy’s, Lysander moved within her with fervor, the tap tap tap of the headboard keeping time.
Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, Pansy’s nails scoured Lysander’s back in pleasure. Gods, it was almost too much; yet at the same time, she wanted him to go harder, to go deeper. She wanted more.
Hissing as she ripped furrows down the length of his back, though it only spurred him on, Lysander let his grip tighten at her hip, drawing her up to meet every thrust. There would be small purple marks in her alabaster skin from his fingers, but the sounds pouring from Pansy’s lips did not indicate she minded in the least, and for his sake, he liked the idea of leaving his mark on her. It had taken them years to get here, but she was his now, and he, hers.
Pansy gasped, back arching when one particularly hard thrust hit that spot deep inside of her, the one that made stars shine behind her eyes. “Gods,” she whispered, “yes.”
He shifted, angling to penetrate more deeply, seeking out the place that had caused her breath to catch. Again and again he moved over her sweet spot, forcing back his own release until he could secure Pansy’s. She was beautiful with naught but pleasure flowing through her, and he strove to drive her to its pinnacle.
It came upon her quicker than she’d reckoned. Lysander’s name fell from her lips as she surrendered to pleasure, letting it flood her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moon indentions in his skin as she rode out her climax.
The clench of her body around him pulled him past the edge of his endurance, and Lysander thrust his last, hips pinning hers to the mattress as the surge of bliss wracked through him. Shifting to her side, he pulled Pansy so that she lay draped across his chest, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. “Succubus,” he teased.
“Mmmm,” she hummed against his lips, pulling back to offer a raised eyebrow. “Was that what I’ve been waiting for for twelve years?” Her lips curled at his offended expression. “I think we should do that again.”
“Wait another twelve years? I’m sorry, love, but I think most I’ll be able to manage is another twelve minutes. Then you’re going to have to lay back and think of England, because I’m not done with you yet.”
“What about twelve seconds?”
His lips twisted wryly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Summary: Lysander and Pansy finally consummate their relationship.
The large front door swung open, revealing a tiny house elf in a neatly pressed tea towel. Bowing low, she ushered Lysander into the spacious foyer. “Mistress is expecting you, sir. She will be down shortly.”
“Thank you,” he replied, offering the small creature a smile. While he waited, Lysander casually surveyed the surroundings. Nothing had changed, and yet it all had. He was shaking his head thoughtfully when the light tap of high heels reached his ears. Turning, his lips curled at the sight walking toward him.
“Hello there, love. You look beautiful.”
She’d not meant to alert him to her presence quite yet, but the sound of her heels on the marble foyer had betrayed her. Despite that, she couldn’t stop the curl of her lips at the sight of him. “Thank you,” she replied, stopping in front of him. It was instinctive to reach up to smooth his lapel. “You’re looking quite dapper yourself.”
“Figured I owed you a bit of effort, after everything,” he said, eyes twinkling. “And a proper hello.” With that he pulled her against him and bent to capture her full lips. There was no hurry, just a thorough exploration of the lips he’d known quite well once upon a time. They’d both grown up since those days, and Pansy had a woman’s curves beneath his hands, and kissed him back with the surety of experience gained in the intervening years.
She hummed in agreement as she slid her hands up his chest and around to the back of his neck, the fingers of one hand twining in the short strands of his hair. “It’s the least you can do, truly,” she murmured, pulling back to fix him with an amused blue gaze.
“Hmmm, you’re lucky I do owe you or else I might be inclined to forget our plans and go upstairs to ruin all the work you put in getting ready,” he murmured, letting his eyes rake over her curve-hugging dress.
“Who says I’d let you?” she asked with a raised brow. She stepped away with an impish little smirk curling her lips. “Maxwell,” she called, raising her voice, “my cloak.”
Lips curling as the elf brought Pansy’s cloak, Lysander took the garment and helped her into it. As he reached around her, fastening the clasp, his mouth rested beside her ear. “Haven’t we established that you can’t say no to me? Besides, you want me inside you as badly as I do.”
His words sent a shudder over her skin, and she inwardly cursed the visceral way her body reacted to his words. Damn him. Just for that, she was not letting him carry her upstairs without making an effort.
“That,” she murmured, “sounds like a challenge. Did you honestly think after ten years that you wouldn’t have to exert any effort for it?”
A low chuckle filled the small space between them. “Oh, Pansy, I plan to put in a lot of effort.” Straightening, he held out his arm, every inch the gentleman but for the twist of his lips. “You’ll see. Later.”
Pansy placed her hand in the crook of his arm and raised one eyebrow in expectation. “I’m waiting to be impressed.”
A dark-eyed wink, and they disapparated, reappearing moments later in the vestibule set aside for magical arrivals at Mon Plaisir. Lysander guided Pansy as they were shown to their seats, waving off the maitre’d and pulling out her chair himself. Once his companion was seated, he settled across from her, and ordered them a bottle of chardonnay when the sommelier visited the table. “How am I doing so far, then? Any terrible cock ups you’ll need to scold me for later?”
A dark brow rose as she idly surveyed the small, intimate restaurant. “Not as yet, no,” she replied, lips curling when her gaze met his. “But we’ve only just arrived, darling.”
“Your confidence in me is flattering, as always,” he teased. The wine arrived and Lysander lifted his glass. “To the first of many such evenings.”
“To your optimism,” Pansy retorted, clinking her glass against his. That there would be more evenings such as this, she had no doubt -- nay, she hoped there would. But it was too easy to fall back into old routines, to tease her suitor.
Leaning in, his voice lowered, his words only for Pansy’s ears. “In the spirit of that optimism, here’s to that lovely dress in a heap on the floor, and my name echoing off your walls.” Two could play the taunting game.
She quirked her head to the side, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. Her blue eyes gleamed with a faint hint of a challenge as she too leaned in closer. “Here’s to making you regret every last second you’ve gone without me.”
“Oh, but regret can be sweet.” He sipped his beverage and returned to a relaxed lounge in his chair. Neither of them were particularly interested in the actual plans they had for the evening. It would be fun to see just how long they’d make it before they abandoned all pretense and simply retired back to Pansy’s home so he could make love to her until she’d screamed herself hoarse. “And... inspirational.”
“Can it?” One dark brow lifted as she mimicked his pose and reclined in her seat. “Then I look forward to seeing what sort of inspiration you’ve stored in reserve.”
“And I look forward to showing you. Now,” he said, pointedly picking up his menu, “see what you want to eat. I imagine you’ll be needing the energy later.”
Pansy sniffed and lifted the menu to regard the contents. “You might want to order the oysters, darling,” she commented lightly, meeting his gaze over the menu.
Lips twitching, he raised a brow. “Are you suggesting I’ll need assistance getting excited? I can assure you that I’m well and truly ready for the challenge.” He’d wanted Pansy since they were in school. Finally quenching that thirst was all the aphrodisiac he needed.
She raised her glass to her lips and smiled, taking a long sip of her chardonnay. “Do you need assistance? I should hope not. But some things are much more... enjoyable with a little nudge.”
Under the table, her foot traced along the inside of his calf, slowly moving up towards his knee.
“By all means, nudge to your heart’s content.” Reaching a hand under the table, he stroked the petite foot steadily climbing his leg, then let it skim over the length of calf he was able to reach. “I’m not much of a fan of oysters, but I’m sure I’ll find something on the menu with a similar reputation.”
As the time since they’d arrived at the restaurant had passed, Pansy had looked more and more favorably on her initial idea for the evening’s outfit -- a negligee and robe. No pretense of dinner. There was pleasure to be had in prolonging the eventual outcome of their time together, but she was finished with waiting.
She’d waited for twelve years.
Her foot slid away from his leg and back into its waiting high heel, and Pansy stood. Setting the menu down on the table, she walked around behind Lysander and leaned down, pressing her lips to the shell of his ear.
“I don’t want anything on the menu,” she breathed. “I want you to take me home, and I want you to make up for every second that has passed over the last twelve years.” Her tongue flicked his earlobe quickly, eliciting a shudder, and she whispered, “Now.”
The curl of his lips was predatory, and Lysander rose from his chair and placed his hand at the base of Pansy’s spine. With his other, he tossed enough money onto the table to pay for their wine and the waiter’s trouble. Without a word, he led her from the restaurant proper into the apparition point.
“As the lady wishes,” he murmured, before whisking them away.
It didn’t even register to Pansy that they’d left her cloak behind at the restaurant. As her feet landed on the gleaming marble floor of her foyer, she didn’t care about anything except twining her fingers in Lysander’s hair and bringing his lips down to hers in a hard, fierce kiss.
His arms wrapped around her, nearly lifting Pansy from her feet as he plundered her mouth. One hand rose to tangle in her dark locks, his grip tipping her head to allow him to drink more deeply of her. It had been years since they’d been so wrapped in one another, and never with the certainty of what was to come. Finally, finally he would claim her fully, and the thought brought a growl from his throat.
Every last bit of desire that had laid slumbering between them flared up as they grasped at one another, desperate for the contact denied them for so long. Pansy’s mind was hazy with want -- a want so keen it nearly pained her -- but she was loathe to break contact with him for a second longer; even if that second meant leading him to her bedroom.
Marshaling her concentration, Pansy Apparated them upstairs to the west wing, the entwined pair reappearing in her candlelit bedroom.
Immediately Lysander’s hand sought the zipper of Pansy’s dress, drawing it down with an urgency that matched the fire within him. The dress slid from her body and he lifted her, crossing the few steps to the large bed in the center of the room. It was the work of a moment to remove the towering heels she’d worn for their evening out and shrug out of his jacket before covering her body with his own. “You’re stunning,” he breathed as one large hand caressed the creamy expanse of skin he’d bared.
It was good to know that her diligence in choosing her lingerie for the evening hadn’t gone unnoticed -- though at the moment, she couldn’t have cared less. An appreciative sigh fell from her lips as his hands slid over her -- finally; her own hands going to the black silk tie knotted at his throat.
The length of silk slipped from his neck and was tossed aside. Ducking down, he trailed his lips along the soft curves spilling over the cups of her bra. Pansy’s skin was soft as silk, but he wanted to see all of her, taste all of her, and Lysander reached beneath her form to unclasp the garment separating him from the perfect globes.
No demure blush stained her cheeks as she pulled the bra away from her body, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. Her blue eyes were dark with desire, pupils dilated, and she met his gaze without a hint of modesty. It almost felt as if it were a dream; a moment she’d wanted for years -- Lysander, here, in her bed.
Reaching up, she traced the strong line of his jaw with the tip of her finger. He was finally hers.
With a quick kiss, his teeth tugging at her full lower lip as he pulled away again, Lysander dipped lower to taste one of the pink buds straining in anticipation of his attention. He laved the taut peak, alternating between gentle swipes of his tongue and the not-quite-sharp press of his teeth. Pansy was beautiful, he’d always known that, but as he relished his new acquaintance with her body, he had to wonder why it took him so long to act on that knowledge.
Pansy’s fingers slid through his hair as she sighed his name in pleasure. The press of his lips to her skin was intoxicating; the only thing that could be better would be his skin pressed against hers. One hand slid over the back of his neck, nails raking over his skin as her hand slipped to the button at his collar.
His eyes followed Pansy’s slender fingers as she reached for his shirt. Much as he was enjoying his current occupation, Lysander couldn’t deny the appeal of having her pressed fully against his with no barrier. Slipping an arm around her waist, he tugged her close and rolled them so that his lover was astride him. His lips twisted into a smirk and he curled a lock of dark hair around his finger as he said, “Go on, then. It should be easier to get my clothes off now.”
“I don’t know. I was quite enjoying my prior vantage point,” she murmured, flicking buttons open one by one until his shirt hung loosely on his torso. “You may have underestimated my skills, Lysander.”
“Or maybe I just wanted to watch you undress me,” he countered, casually reaching up to pinch a pert nipple and grinning wolfishly at the gasp it brought to her lips.
She drug one manicured nail down the center of his chest, drawing a red line on his skin. “And you couldn’t watch otherwise?”
“Not as comfortably,” he explained as he palmed one lovely breast, caressing the soft flesh happily. “I quite like watching you from this angle, and letting you have the freedom to touch as you like.”
“Do you?” she queried softly, arching one dark brow. Pansy ducked her head and pressed her lips to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, letting him feel her teeth as she trailed kisses across his throat.
“Very much.” Gripping her hips, he ground his arousal against her, the fabric between them making the movement no more than a tease. “Now, the quicker you get me out of these clothes, the quicker I’ll be making you scream.”
Her breath caught at the movement, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of capitulation. Not quite yet.
“Has no one told you patience is a virtue, Lysander?” she asked conversationally, one dark brow rising as she slowly undid his belt.
Rising up to rest on his elbows, he nibbled at her breast, tugging lightly with his teeth. “I thought twelve years was long enough and you were finished with patience? Suddenly the urgency has left you? You’re not dying to feel me buried inside you?”
Pansy bowed her head, her breath stirring the dark hair on top of his head. She flicked open the button to his trousers and drew the zipper down slowly. She was dying to have him inside of her, the way she’d once thought about, but she didn’t want to rush it. “I want to savor this,” she whispered.
“We have all night,” he reminded her gently as his fingers brushed the softness of Pansy’s cheek. He was anxious to know all of her, to figure out all the ways he could coax his name from her lips, but there was plenty of time. “We have nights to come. As much as I want to enjoy every inch of you, this is not the only chance we’ll have to learn about each other.”
She knew he was right, but there was still the nagging sense that something was going to happen. The other shoe was going to drop. It wasn’t necessarily rational, but it renewed her determination to savor this night with Lysander. With luck, there would be more. Many, many more.
Pansy’s hands went to his loose shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, moving surely as she pulled his undershirt up and over his head. Her lips found his in a soft kiss, and she made a soft, encouraging murmur as fingers tugged at his trousers.
Pulling away from their kiss, his hands covered hers and together they drew his trousers and pants down. “And yours, too, love,” he murmured with a pointed glance at the knickers she still wore. “Only fair as I am all laid out before you.”
He was; quite nicely. Pansy let her gaze linger on the long line of his tan torso, the line of hair leading below his navel down to his straining member. She couldn’t find fault with his logic. “Perhaps a helping hand might be available?” she asked, lips curling. “I’m sure you know what to do.”
“I believe I do,” he agreed. Pulling her close to his chest, Lysander rolled them. Taking his time, he nibbled his way down the length of Pansy’s lovely neck before nipping gently at the point of each collar bone. The breathy panting and minute twisting of her body as she found herself unable to keep still were deeply satisfying, and his eyes flicked up to his lover’s face as he traced the valley between her breasts with his tongue. She gasped when he suckled first at one breast and then the other, drawing the rosy tips into taut peaks before continuing his path down her body, tasting the hollow of her navel even as his fingers hooked in the delicate knickers she wore. Lysander pressed a lingering kiss to her center, over the lacy fabric, a last tease before he slid them from her body before covering her with his own.
Lysander’s teasing had fanned the burning want within her until it was nigh unbearable. Her breasts ached where they were crushed against his chest, and her thighs parted, knees on either side of his hips to welcome his body into hers.
“No more waiting,” she whispered in the small space between their lips.
A verbal reply was unnecessary, as he arched his back and sank into her waiting warmth, a low groan of appreciation escaping him at finally claiming her fully. Lips finding Pansy’s, Lysander moved within her with fervor, the tap tap tap of the headboard keeping time.
Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, Pansy’s nails scoured Lysander’s back in pleasure. Gods, it was almost too much; yet at the same time, she wanted him to go harder, to go deeper. She wanted more.
Hissing as she ripped furrows down the length of his back, though it only spurred him on, Lysander let his grip tighten at her hip, drawing her up to meet every thrust. There would be small purple marks in her alabaster skin from his fingers, but the sounds pouring from Pansy’s lips did not indicate she minded in the least, and for his sake, he liked the idea of leaving his mark on her. It had taken them years to get here, but she was his now, and he, hers.
Pansy gasped, back arching when one particularly hard thrust hit that spot deep inside of her, the one that made stars shine behind her eyes. “Gods,” she whispered, “yes.”
He shifted, angling to penetrate more deeply, seeking out the place that had caused her breath to catch. Again and again he moved over her sweet spot, forcing back his own release until he could secure Pansy’s. She was beautiful with naught but pleasure flowing through her, and he strove to drive her to its pinnacle.
It came upon her quicker than she’d reckoned. Lysander’s name fell from her lips as she surrendered to pleasure, letting it flood her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little half-moon indentions in his skin as she rode out her climax.
The clench of her body around him pulled him past the edge of his endurance, and Lysander thrust his last, hips pinning hers to the mattress as the surge of bliss wracked through him. Shifting to her side, he pulled Pansy so that she lay draped across his chest, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. “Succubus,” he teased.
“Mmmm,” she hummed against his lips, pulling back to offer a raised eyebrow. “Was that what I’ve been waiting for for twelve years?” Her lips curled at his offended expression. “I think we should do that again.”
“Wait another twelve years? I’m sorry, love, but I think most I’ll be able to manage is another twelve minutes. Then you’re going to have to lay back and think of England, because I’m not done with you yet.”
“What about twelve seconds?”
His lips twisted wryly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Summary: Lysander and Pansy finally consummate their relationship.