I may like your talk, like you breathing heavily [NC-17]
Category: Pink Sheep RPG
The moon was bright overhead as Emma cruised along the London streets. It was true she could have Apparated or Flooed to Michael's flat, but the night was crisp and the sky was remarkably clear, so she'd decided to make the drive across the city in her bright pink, leopard-print convertible. There wasn't much occasion for her to drive her little car given that most of her time was spent in the magical world where such things were generally looked down upon, but Emma loved her princess-mobile.
She parked along the street just up the block from her playmate's building and her smile was wide and bright as she made her way inside. He'd told her to visit soon. This was not as soon as she'd hoped after their kisses at the gala, but she was here now and excited to see him.
As she exited the elevator on the uppermost floor, she pressed the bell in two short bursts, trying not to bounce on her toes in anticipation. There were games to be played. Maybe some she hadn't played before.
Straightening, box in hand, Michael stacked it on the pile of boxes already filled and marked. He'd felt the wards flicker just as the doorbell rang as he closed the top of the box and taped it, a haze of smoke filtering between his lips while his hands were occupied.
Only when the job was done to his satisfaction did Michael toss the tape dispenser aside and pull the joint from his lips to blow out the sweet smelling smoke.
The place was half packed now. The vision he had for his shop wouldn't take shape for several months, maybe more, as he began pulling all the pieces together. He was moving to the flat above the corner store, half because it would keep him in proximity to his new endeavor and half because the Penthouse had always been for Astoria and not for himself. He'd chosen the opulent place because he knew it's what his sister would like. Now that she'd moved out though, he felt no need to continue on there.
Finally making it to the door, Michael took another inhale of his joint before opening it. His lips twitched at the bouncy blond that came into view. He was unsurprised Emma had shown up unannounced. He'd been expecting her for sometime now.
"Evening, dove."
Emma blinked as the very specific scent of marijuana tickled her senses on her next breath. The smile remained on her face as her eyes flicked to the hand-rolled cigarette between Michael's fingers. Though she'd never seen him smoke before, it wasn't exactly a shock that her pretty man partook of this particular pastime. Michael was easygoing and generally unconcerned by the world's perception of him. Enjoying the pleasant haze of a joint would seem in character for her friend, and it only took a second to come to the conclusion she was okay with this development.
The brightness returning to her eyes, Emma bounced lightly on the tips of her toes. "Hi. Up for some company, pretty man?"
"I could stand some," Michael nodded, blue eyes bright as he shifted to the side to allow her inside. He'd not missed her surprise over his smoke of choice, but she'd dismissed it as quickly as she'd registered the fact.
The sweet scent she wore filled his space as she bounced past and Michael felt his eyes brighten with the wolf's awareness - a dove in their cave - but he brought the joint to his lips and inhaled, his own will and the weed quieting the beast.
"Thirsty?" he asked after he shut the door.
"I could stand a drink," she answered, a twinkle in her eye as she borrowed his phrasing. Slipping her hand into one of Michael's, Emma let him lead her to the kitchen.
As they walked, green eyes flitted around the very large flat taking note of the boxes stacked and items that were missing from the places she remembered them being. It was a good thing she'd managed to come now. From the looks of it, Michael was not going to be in the place she knew to find him much longer. "Are you going far away?"
"Just to Diagon," Michael said, lips twitching as he glanced down at her. She was a kitten, but she had tiny little claws of wit and cleverness. It was one of the things that drew him to her. "Bought that empty corner lot by Flourish & Blotts and down the way from Wheezes," he added as he led her to the kitchen and opened the ice box for her to peruse the choices he had - which wasn't many; several beers and a lone bottle of pumpkin juice littered the shelves now that it was only himself in the flat.
Emma's grin widened as she peered into the ice box. A single bottle of something other than alcohol in the flat. Single men were such odd creatures. MJ's flat had similar refreshments, something Emma scolded him for as often as her brother harped on her shopping habits.
Ordinarily she tried not to take the last of something when visiting someone else's home, but Emma didn't care much for beer. She didn't think Michael would mind, in any case, so she grabbed the bottle of pumpkin juice with a sheepish glance at her host and hopped up onto the counter while he got something for himself.
As she twisted the top off her drink and took a sip, legs swinging gently where they hung from her perch, she tried to conjure an image of the property he'd described. Mr. Carmichael had her running errands in Diagon Alley frequently as well as keeping an eye out for potential investment properties and Emma thought she knew the place Michael was speaking of. It was a decent enough spot, but certainly nothing like the sprawling penthouse flat in which Michael currently lived. Not that there was anything wrong with living below your means. Emma herself kept a fairly small flat despite the resources to which she had access.
"Tired of your modest surroundings?" she queried with a giggle before her brow creased in thought. "Isn't that lot zoned commercial?
"It is, in fact," Michael said, lips twitching as he leaned back on the counter across from her to watch her face. Everything, every emotion and thought flitted across her features and she didn't bother trying to hide it. Very Gryffindor of her, but Michael liked watching. "Am putting together a little something for the commercial bits and without my sister here, there's nothing really tying me to the Grecian columns and marble flooring."
He brought the joint up to his lips then, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a ring.
Emma was curious, but Michael hadn't offered any additional details so she kept her questions to herself. Her pretty man was not secretive exactly, but neither had she ever found him to be an open book. Michael would share what he wanted to, when he wanted to, and that was okay. That he was an enigma was part of the reason she liked spending time with him. Emma rarely held anything back and it was always interesting to be with someone so very different from herself.
"I'm glad I came you before you moved. Who knows when I'd have found you again? I'd have had to break my promise."
"And that would have been a shame," Michael said, lips twitching as he met her gaze. Pushing off from the counter behind him, he crossed the small space between them, one hand sliding under a knee and tugging her to the edge while he put out his joint in the ash tray behind her.
"Though I would have made sure you knew where to find me, kitten," he added, eyes bright as he stepped between her legs and set both hands flat on the counter, body caging her there.
Her heartbeat quickened as Michael came into her space, his eyes shining and focused on her in a different way than they had been moments before. Were Emma a little less bold herself, she might've looked away, blushed at the intensity of his gaze, but Emma was a Gryffindor through and through, albeit not a very intimidating one. Her green eyes remained locked on Michael's bright blues even as her breathing turned shallow.
"Good. I like coming to see you. It would make me sad if I couldn't find you."
"Truly sad?" Michael asked, finger tracing down the line of her jaw as he watched her. He'd known why she had come; he'd asked her to, and they both had known what the visit would entail. It was his way with this little Gryffindor kitten.
Michael was fond of Emma, enjoyed the way she responded to him. She was always abuzz with energy, but it was a warm pleasant thing, feline in nature; foreign to his wolf now, but no less warm and inviting.
Ducking his head, Michael breathed against her neck before pressing his lips softly just beneath her ear.
Emma's eyes fluttered shut as Michael's lips warmed her skin. It was true she was fond of flirting, and rarely did she pass up the opportunity to snog a handsome bloke, but it was only Michael who had ever tasted more of her than that. There was no one else who'd inspired the same trust and understanding as her friend with the chiseled features, and it was nice to be in the calm and comfort of his space again.
That wasn't to say she was unaffected by the light touch of his lips or heat of his body so close to her own. Quite the opposite, already her blood was beginning to rush, an anticipatory heightening of her senses making her acutely aware of his every move. "Positively filled with woe," she breathed.
"All the better you will know where to find me then," Michael said softly, breath fanning across her skin as he pressed his palm to the back her neck and tipped her head to the side so he could run his lips down the line of her jaw.
Small hands slipped between them, gripping the cotton fabric of Michael's t-shirt and pulling him closer. His lips were warm, almost fevered as they skimmed along her jaw, melting away the thoughts that tried to form and leaving a desire to taste him that would not be denied. Turning her head, Emma pressed her lips to his, begging admittance.
Amusement swirled through Michael at the blond kitten's impatience, but it was an unbridled thing, not calculated or executed with any other thought than want. It was exactly why he liked playing with this kitten; there were no pretensions to Emma, no expectations and he genuinely enjoyed her.
He especially enjoyed the way she responded to him, enjoyed the heat that swirled in a liquid way, slow and molten when she grabbed at him, moved beneath his hands.
Tangling one hand in her hair, the other went to her hip and pulled her roughly to the edge of the counter until her body was flush with his. Michael tipped her head, tasted as she wanted to be tasted, as he wanted to taste; deeply, thoroughly, lips sliding over hers to take and give, demand and then offer.
A surprised squeak, muffled by the soft mouth that fed of her own, escaped at the sudden tug, but Emma could not object to the effect of it. Her hips tight against Michael's, she curled a leg around his thigh as if to lock him in place.
There were people who might not think much of the loose arrangement she and her pretty man shared, seeing each other as the mood struck or when chance intervened, but Emma didn't care. Neither of them were inclined to put a name and rules to it. It was not empty as there was a true fondness between them and Michael had never once made her feel like less for coming to him this way. If they were both having fun and feeling good, that was plenty.
Working her hands under the edge of his shirt, wanting Michael's skin beneath her fingers, she dragged her nails lightly over heated flesh.
Michael's lips curled slightly in a smile against hers and he pulled back enough to catch her hazy, swirling gaze. "Hold tight, kitten," he murmured even as he wrapped an arm tightly around her back and pulled her from the counter.
Her legs twined about his waist as he walked through the kitchen, lips catching at hers. Michael knew where he was going and didn't need to glance about to find his bearings. Not when there was a warm woman wrapped around him.
And he was not unaffected. There was no name for what he and Emma shared, but he did love the way she responded, the unbridled reactions. It wasn't just when he kissed her, but always. She played as a kitten bats at a ball of yarn, but there was no true pretense to the tiny blond holding fast to him.
The heat that swirled in him always, smoldering and steaming, surged forth, a liquid molten thing that warmed his skin as he pressed her against the wall. A hand wound through her hair, pulling her lips to his, and pressed his hips into hers, teasing both of them.
The tension brought by Michael's long fingers as they tangled in her mane of hair was enough to bring a moan to her lips, but it was the intimate pressure of his hips and the thrill of being pinned to the wall in a passionate embrace that set her blood rushing. She felt wanton and sexy, adjectives Emma had never really thought to apply to herself before. Flirty and fun described her aptly most of the time, but at the moment she did not feel like the ingenue most people saw.
Fingers curling in the hem of his shirt, she tugged it upward, the press of their bodies making progress slow. When it bunched beneath his arms, an impatient kitten-like growl rose in her throat. She wanted skin.
A breathless laugh escaped from Michael against her mouth before he pushed away from the wall with his hands, hips still pinning Emma in place. His eyes were swirling, a blue so vivid it nearly glowed against his pale skin as he pulled his tee over head.
She was an impatient thing, but just this moment, Michael didn't really want patience. It was usually wont to be his game, but the fire in her had stoked his own and he wanted her. He wanted to make her keen and writhe and to feel the slide of skin.
He reached for her then, pulled her against his body again as he brought her mouth his, nipped at her lips. His hands tugged her own jumper free, over her head, and only then did he move away from the wall, moments later spilling her to his bed. Michael followed her though, scraped his teeth down her neck even as his hand smoothed up her denim clad thigh, hooking around her hip and tugging, his own hips grinding into her.
The first time she'd been with Michael, the only other time she'd played these games, he'd been gentle, easing her into each step with care and skill far beyond her own. This was an entirely different experience, heated and urgent, and Emma's eyes were lit with delight and desire. She liked this version of her pretty man, who could somehow feel dangerous and safe all at once.
Instinctively moving against the rock of his hips, small hands smoothed down his back to his fantastic arse, urging on the delicious friction between them. As his teeth dragged down her skin, Emma moaned, "Yes, more like that."
Michael grinned against her skin, more a flash a teeth than anything at the breathy little moan. Only Emma would demand even as she writhed beneath him, unable to stop her own body's reaction. He remembered their last time together, wondered briefly whether she'd played with anyone else since he'd deflowered her, but the thought was pushed to the ether as he continued his journey down her neck, nipping lightly at her skin as he went.
One hand was braced against the bed, but the other slid down her side, smoothed over her bare abdomen and his musician's fingers picked at the button of her denims easily. The material loose, he slid his hand over her hip, beneath her pants and knickers and gripped her arse as he rolled his hips into hers again.
There were still too many clothes between them, Emma decided even as her legs wrapped around his hips, loving the way he felt pressed against her. It was a hard reality that to touch they way she wanted to, the way her hands itched to to touch him without the interfering cloth, she would have to give up the feeling of Michael cradled between her thighs. It was a sacrifice she was working up to, but not yet ready to make.
When his head dipped lower, taking a small, lace-covered breast into his mouth, Emma gasped, back arching off the bed. Michael was really very good at this.
That, he wanted her to do that again, and thought was concurrent with action as he pulled his hand from beneath her denims and deftly unhooked the clip of her bra. Twined as they were, the material didn't fall away from her body, but a small tug on the lace bared her and Michael licked at a pert, pink nipple before sucking until she writhed beneath him again, little sounds spilling her lips.
His hands never stilled, even as he switched his attention to her other breast. He found his way to the loose denim at her hips again. A few tugs at the material bared her enough that he easily slipped his hand beneath her little lace knickers, cupped the heat of her, slid his fingers into her wet curls and filled her with a single digit.
The shudder that slid down her spine had Michael pulling away with one last lick to rest slightly to the side as his blue gaze sought her face, the part of her lips as he slid his finger nearly out of her wet heat and then slowly filled her with two. She was tight, needed this for what they both wanted, but even that was distant as he took in the sight of her.
Emma's blond hair was vividly tousled against his navy duvet, her eyes hazy and full of want, her skin flushed from the height of her cheeks to the tips of her nipples framed by the bra he'd pulled down, but not off. Her denims still clung to her hips, but his hand disappeared beneath to make her breathing go uneven.
She was beautiful.
She felt warm, too warm for body temperature to explain the goosebumps that spread incongruously over her skin. The rosy buds that had so recently been lavished with attention were taut, reaching out in search of the wet heat of Michael's mouth in vain. Still, Emma couldn't bring herself to complain about the loss, not when his hand was doing such lovely things elsewhere.
Rocking her hips to meet the slide of his fingers, Emma shivered. She'd forgotten how good this felt, or maybe it really was better this time, without the worry of what was to come. Whichever the case, Michael had her breaths coming in short, fast pants as needy mewls spilled from her lips.
Her eyes raised to his, so bright a blue they nearly glowed and for once she could read the usually inscrutable orbs. He wanted her. Wanted. The first time, Michael had made love to her because she'd come to him and asked for it. She knew he'd enjoyed their time together, but there was not the heat that she saw now in his eyes.
Her hands reached for him, pulling him close so she could taste him again. The kiss was urgent and seeking, hungry. She wanted him, too.
Michael drank her, fed from her mouth because he could and in that moment, Emma was his air. He'd always been especially attuned to people around him and just now, her want rolled over his own like a hot tide, insistent and ravenous. The mix of both heats, different but intending the same thing, was potent and demanding.
When she shuddered again, a moan lost from her mouth to his, Michael bit down on her bottom lip. She was ready for him, strained beneath him for the contact they both wanted, and in a deft movement, he released her lip and pulled his hand from her knickers. It was moment's work to rid her of the ballet flats she wore and tug her denims over her hips as she wriggled to help him.
He'd already his button and zip down when Emma helped to push the denim lower, but the material was only very low on his hips - far enough - when he slid his hand down her thigh to her hip, tugged. Michael didn't tease or wait, and unlike the time he deflowered her, there was no hesitation as he filled her completely, his own rasped breath lost to the side of her neck at how good she felt.
It didn't hurt, though Emma tensed minutely as her body stretched to accommodate him. Once he began to move, though, strong, determined thrusts that rocked the bed and her on it, all the tension melted away.
Twining her legs around Michael's hips to anchor herself, one hand came up to sift through his slightly too long hair as he stoked her desire, fanning the flames of her need until she couldn't hold it in. The breathy moans and soft grunts pouring from her mouth made her blush, but her body responded eagerly, matching him stroke for shiver-inducing stroke. He shifted, grazing a spot that made stars dance before her eyes and had her kitten claws pressing into his skin.
"That's it, dove," he said, his voice rough as he moved in her. "Just feel," he added, lips grazing her jaw.
Michael could feel her clenching around him, could hear how much it affected her in her voice, her breathing, the finest reactions of her body. When her nails dug, though, when she shivered, Michael shifted his hand from her hip down her thigh, grasped her none-too-gently and pulled until her leg was grazing against his side. A growl rumbled through his chest at her breathy gasp, the scrape of her nails, and Michael buried his face in her neck as he filled her, over and over, just there.
It was all haphazard now, but they were nearly lost in the heat as he rolled his hips just so, the new angle making them both a bit desperate for the release just barely out of reach.
Emma's eyes were closed, blocking out any distraction from the glorious sensations Michael was inspiring and the sounds coming from herself and her lover. It was intoxicating, almost unbearably pleasurable, the way he played her body as if she were an instrument, building her music rapidly toward a crescendo.
And then it came. A waterfall of pleasure crashed over her, shaking her from tip to toe as she was overwhelmed, her body no longer under her control. Clinging to him as she shuddered, Emma opened her eyes to find Michael's glowing blues fixed on her, predatory and edged with a wild tint as he approached the end of his endurance. She was transfixed.
He could feel her fluttering around him, her body shuddering, and Michael finally let go of the last shreds of his control and spilled himself in her, hand bruising on her hip has he buried himself two, three more times. The pleasure of sharing like this was comparable to nothing else in Michael's experience, the utter surrender a person had to choose to give themselves over to so that stars exploded in their vision and stole all coherency for a few moments in time.
He nuzzled his nose against the warm, damp skin of her neck, the wolf in him craving touch and the scent of her; honeysuckle and sex.
Their bodies were still intertwined, the only sound that of their still heavy breaths as Emma ran her fingers lightly over Michael's back. She felt languid and warm, hazy in the afterglow of what she and her lover had shared.
It was easy to see why Lola was so enthusiastic about sex, but Emma couldn't imagine going about things the way her friend did. As wonderful as she felt, even with the little aches from where Michael's hands had pressed just past the edge of comfort, she couldn't imagine sharing this with a stranger. Her pretty man might not be 'hers' completely, but Emma knew he cared for her and she cared for him. It was that attachment that made it... "Wow."
He chuckled against her skin, lips turning into a grin. "Something like that," he agreed, hand tracing up her side in a smooth, long stroke as he nibbled at her neck. He was content to stay where he was just yet, fitted together with her, but he touched because he wanted to and could. He wasn't a man that often craved anything, but he was not done with Emma.
He liked her and she was as uninhibited in this as she was everything else. It didn't hurt that they moved so well together or that she smelled good, tasted better - something the wolf in him was especially particular about.
Wiggling under his caress, Emma was surprised to feel a hint of desire flickering within her again. Already. But Michael's hand felt good on her skin and his lips were doing very nice things too; who could blame her for being affected by that?
"Michael?" she queried, voice airy as his teeth grazed her skin again.
"Dove?" His voice was a bit of a growling rumble as he nipped up her neck, fingers sliding into her hair as he rested on his arm above her yet.
"Can we play again?" She felt certain she knew the answer, but the roll of her hips could only help her case.
Michael grinned against her neck even as his hand tightened in her hair when she moved beneath him. It was not so long after their first time, but Michael had not spent himself fully and he was more than ready to indulge what had already been buzzing along his skin.
Reflexes even quicker than normal, Michael caught her hip and in one smooth movement filled her completely. "Like that, pet?"
Emma sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden and demonstrative answer to her question. As their bodies fell into the rhythm that was rapidly becoming second nature, she nuzzled Michael's cheek. "Just like that."
Summary: Emma pays Michael a long overdue visit. They play games. [NC-17]
The moon was bright overhead as Emma cruised along the London streets. It was true she could have Apparated or Flooed to Michael's flat, but the night was crisp and the sky was remarkably clear, so she'd decided to make the drive across the city in her bright pink, leopard-print convertible. There wasn't much occasion for her to drive her little car given that most of her time was spent in the magical world where such things were generally looked down upon, but Emma loved her princess-mobile.
She parked along the street just up the block from her playmate's building and her smile was wide and bright as she made her way inside. He'd told her to visit soon. This was not as soon as she'd hoped after their kisses at the gala, but she was here now and excited to see him.
As she exited the elevator on the uppermost floor, she pressed the bell in two short bursts, trying not to bounce on her toes in anticipation. There were games to be played. Maybe some she hadn't played before.
Straightening, box in hand, Michael stacked it on the pile of boxes already filled and marked. He'd felt the wards flicker just as the doorbell rang as he closed the top of the box and taped it, a haze of smoke filtering between his lips while his hands were occupied.
Only when the job was done to his satisfaction did Michael toss the tape dispenser aside and pull the joint from his lips to blow out the sweet smelling smoke.
The place was half packed now. The vision he had for his shop wouldn't take shape for several months, maybe more, as he began pulling all the pieces together. He was moving to the flat above the corner store, half because it would keep him in proximity to his new endeavor and half because the Penthouse had always been for Astoria and not for himself. He'd chosen the opulent place because he knew it's what his sister would like. Now that she'd moved out though, he felt no need to continue on there.
Finally making it to the door, Michael took another inhale of his joint before opening it. His lips twitched at the bouncy blond that came into view. He was unsurprised Emma had shown up unannounced. He'd been expecting her for sometime now.
"Evening, dove."
Emma blinked as the very specific scent of marijuana tickled her senses on her next breath. The smile remained on her face as her eyes flicked to the hand-rolled cigarette between Michael's fingers. Though she'd never seen him smoke before, it wasn't exactly a shock that her pretty man partook of this particular pastime. Michael was easygoing and generally unconcerned by the world's perception of him. Enjoying the pleasant haze of a joint would seem in character for her friend, and it only took a second to come to the conclusion she was okay with this development.
The brightness returning to her eyes, Emma bounced lightly on the tips of her toes. "Hi. Up for some company, pretty man?"
"I could stand some," Michael nodded, blue eyes bright as he shifted to the side to allow her inside. He'd not missed her surprise over his smoke of choice, but she'd dismissed it as quickly as she'd registered the fact.
The sweet scent she wore filled his space as she bounced past and Michael felt his eyes brighten with the wolf's awareness - a dove in their cave - but he brought the joint to his lips and inhaled, his own will and the weed quieting the beast.
"Thirsty?" he asked after he shut the door.
"I could stand a drink," she answered, a twinkle in her eye as she borrowed his phrasing. Slipping her hand into one of Michael's, Emma let him lead her to the kitchen.
As they walked, green eyes flitted around the very large flat taking note of the boxes stacked and items that were missing from the places she remembered them being. It was a good thing she'd managed to come now. From the looks of it, Michael was not going to be in the place she knew to find him much longer. "Are you going far away?"
"Just to Diagon," Michael said, lips twitching as he glanced down at her. She was a kitten, but she had tiny little claws of wit and cleverness. It was one of the things that drew him to her. "Bought that empty corner lot by Flourish & Blotts and down the way from Wheezes," he added as he led her to the kitchen and opened the ice box for her to peruse the choices he had - which wasn't many; several beers and a lone bottle of pumpkin juice littered the shelves now that it was only himself in the flat.
Emma's grin widened as she peered into the ice box. A single bottle of something other than alcohol in the flat. Single men were such odd creatures. MJ's flat had similar refreshments, something Emma scolded him for as often as her brother harped on her shopping habits.
Ordinarily she tried not to take the last of something when visiting someone else's home, but Emma didn't care much for beer. She didn't think Michael would mind, in any case, so she grabbed the bottle of pumpkin juice with a sheepish glance at her host and hopped up onto the counter while he got something for himself.
As she twisted the top off her drink and took a sip, legs swinging gently where they hung from her perch, she tried to conjure an image of the property he'd described. Mr. Carmichael had her running errands in Diagon Alley frequently as well as keeping an eye out for potential investment properties and Emma thought she knew the place Michael was speaking of. It was a decent enough spot, but certainly nothing like the sprawling penthouse flat in which Michael currently lived. Not that there was anything wrong with living below your means. Emma herself kept a fairly small flat despite the resources to which she had access.
"Tired of your modest surroundings?" she queried with a giggle before her brow creased in thought. "Isn't that lot zoned commercial?
"It is, in fact," Michael said, lips twitching as he leaned back on the counter across from her to watch her face. Everything, every emotion and thought flitted across her features and she didn't bother trying to hide it. Very Gryffindor of her, but Michael liked watching. "Am putting together a little something for the commercial bits and without my sister here, there's nothing really tying me to the Grecian columns and marble flooring."
He brought the joint up to his lips then, inhaling and blowing the smoke out in a ring.
Emma was curious, but Michael hadn't offered any additional details so she kept her questions to herself. Her pretty man was not secretive exactly, but neither had she ever found him to be an open book. Michael would share what he wanted to, when he wanted to, and that was okay. That he was an enigma was part of the reason she liked spending time with him. Emma rarely held anything back and it was always interesting to be with someone so very different from herself.
"I'm glad I came you before you moved. Who knows when I'd have found you again? I'd have had to break my promise."
"And that would have been a shame," Michael said, lips twitching as he met her gaze. Pushing off from the counter behind him, he crossed the small space between them, one hand sliding under a knee and tugging her to the edge while he put out his joint in the ash tray behind her.
"Though I would have made sure you knew where to find me, kitten," he added, eyes bright as he stepped between her legs and set both hands flat on the counter, body caging her there.
Her heartbeat quickened as Michael came into her space, his eyes shining and focused on her in a different way than they had been moments before. Were Emma a little less bold herself, she might've looked away, blushed at the intensity of his gaze, but Emma was a Gryffindor through and through, albeit not a very intimidating one. Her green eyes remained locked on Michael's bright blues even as her breathing turned shallow.
"Good. I like coming to see you. It would make me sad if I couldn't find you."
"Truly sad?" Michael asked, finger tracing down the line of her jaw as he watched her. He'd known why she had come; he'd asked her to, and they both had known what the visit would entail. It was his way with this little Gryffindor kitten.
Michael was fond of Emma, enjoyed the way she responded to him. She was always abuzz with energy, but it was a warm pleasant thing, feline in nature; foreign to his wolf now, but no less warm and inviting.
Ducking his head, Michael breathed against her neck before pressing his lips softly just beneath her ear.
Emma's eyes fluttered shut as Michael's lips warmed her skin. It was true she was fond of flirting, and rarely did she pass up the opportunity to snog a handsome bloke, but it was only Michael who had ever tasted more of her than that. There was no one else who'd inspired the same trust and understanding as her friend with the chiseled features, and it was nice to be in the calm and comfort of his space again.
That wasn't to say she was unaffected by the light touch of his lips or heat of his body so close to her own. Quite the opposite, already her blood was beginning to rush, an anticipatory heightening of her senses making her acutely aware of his every move. "Positively filled with woe," she breathed.
"All the better you will know where to find me then," Michael said softly, breath fanning across her skin as he pressed his palm to the back her neck and tipped her head to the side so he could run his lips down the line of her jaw.
Small hands slipped between them, gripping the cotton fabric of Michael's t-shirt and pulling him closer. His lips were warm, almost fevered as they skimmed along her jaw, melting away the thoughts that tried to form and leaving a desire to taste him that would not be denied. Turning her head, Emma pressed her lips to his, begging admittance.
Amusement swirled through Michael at the blond kitten's impatience, but it was an unbridled thing, not calculated or executed with any other thought than want. It was exactly why he liked playing with this kitten; there were no pretensions to Emma, no expectations and he genuinely enjoyed her.
He especially enjoyed the way she responded to him, enjoyed the heat that swirled in a liquid way, slow and molten when she grabbed at him, moved beneath his hands.
Tangling one hand in her hair, the other went to her hip and pulled her roughly to the edge of the counter until her body was flush with his. Michael tipped her head, tasted as she wanted to be tasted, as he wanted to taste; deeply, thoroughly, lips sliding over hers to take and give, demand and then offer.
A surprised squeak, muffled by the soft mouth that fed of her own, escaped at the sudden tug, but Emma could not object to the effect of it. Her hips tight against Michael's, she curled a leg around his thigh as if to lock him in place.
There were people who might not think much of the loose arrangement she and her pretty man shared, seeing each other as the mood struck or when chance intervened, but Emma didn't care. Neither of them were inclined to put a name and rules to it. It was not empty as there was a true fondness between them and Michael had never once made her feel like less for coming to him this way. If they were both having fun and feeling good, that was plenty.
Working her hands under the edge of his shirt, wanting Michael's skin beneath her fingers, she dragged her nails lightly over heated flesh.
Michael's lips curled slightly in a smile against hers and he pulled back enough to catch her hazy, swirling gaze. "Hold tight, kitten," he murmured even as he wrapped an arm tightly around her back and pulled her from the counter.
Her legs twined about his waist as he walked through the kitchen, lips catching at hers. Michael knew where he was going and didn't need to glance about to find his bearings. Not when there was a warm woman wrapped around him.
And he was not unaffected. There was no name for what he and Emma shared, but he did love the way she responded, the unbridled reactions. It wasn't just when he kissed her, but always. She played as a kitten bats at a ball of yarn, but there was no true pretense to the tiny blond holding fast to him.
The heat that swirled in him always, smoldering and steaming, surged forth, a liquid molten thing that warmed his skin as he pressed her against the wall. A hand wound through her hair, pulling her lips to his, and pressed his hips into hers, teasing both of them.
The tension brought by Michael's long fingers as they tangled in her mane of hair was enough to bring a moan to her lips, but it was the intimate pressure of his hips and the thrill of being pinned to the wall in a passionate embrace that set her blood rushing. She felt wanton and sexy, adjectives Emma had never really thought to apply to herself before. Flirty and fun described her aptly most of the time, but at the moment she did not feel like the ingenue most people saw.
Fingers curling in the hem of his shirt, she tugged it upward, the press of their bodies making progress slow. When it bunched beneath his arms, an impatient kitten-like growl rose in her throat. She wanted skin.
A breathless laugh escaped from Michael against her mouth before he pushed away from the wall with his hands, hips still pinning Emma in place. His eyes were swirling, a blue so vivid it nearly glowed against his pale skin as he pulled his tee over head.
She was an impatient thing, but just this moment, Michael didn't really want patience. It was usually wont to be his game, but the fire in her had stoked his own and he wanted her. He wanted to make her keen and writhe and to feel the slide of skin.
He reached for her then, pulled her against his body again as he brought her mouth his, nipped at her lips. His hands tugged her own jumper free, over her head, and only then did he move away from the wall, moments later spilling her to his bed. Michael followed her though, scraped his teeth down her neck even as his hand smoothed up her denim clad thigh, hooking around her hip and tugging, his own hips grinding into her.
The first time she'd been with Michael, the only other time she'd played these games, he'd been gentle, easing her into each step with care and skill far beyond her own. This was an entirely different experience, heated and urgent, and Emma's eyes were lit with delight and desire. She liked this version of her pretty man, who could somehow feel dangerous and safe all at once.
Instinctively moving against the rock of his hips, small hands smoothed down his back to his fantastic arse, urging on the delicious friction between them. As his teeth dragged down her skin, Emma moaned, "Yes, more like that."
Michael grinned against her skin, more a flash a teeth than anything at the breathy little moan. Only Emma would demand even as she writhed beneath him, unable to stop her own body's reaction. He remembered their last time together, wondered briefly whether she'd played with anyone else since he'd deflowered her, but the thought was pushed to the ether as he continued his journey down her neck, nipping lightly at her skin as he went.
One hand was braced against the bed, but the other slid down her side, smoothed over her bare abdomen and his musician's fingers picked at the button of her denims easily. The material loose, he slid his hand over her hip, beneath her pants and knickers and gripped her arse as he rolled his hips into hers again.
There were still too many clothes between them, Emma decided even as her legs wrapped around his hips, loving the way he felt pressed against her. It was a hard reality that to touch they way she wanted to, the way her hands itched to to touch him without the interfering cloth, she would have to give up the feeling of Michael cradled between her thighs. It was a sacrifice she was working up to, but not yet ready to make.
When his head dipped lower, taking a small, lace-covered breast into his mouth, Emma gasped, back arching off the bed. Michael was really very good at this.
That, he wanted her to do that again, and thought was concurrent with action as he pulled his hand from beneath her denims and deftly unhooked the clip of her bra. Twined as they were, the material didn't fall away from her body, but a small tug on the lace bared her and Michael licked at a pert, pink nipple before sucking until she writhed beneath him again, little sounds spilling her lips.
His hands never stilled, even as he switched his attention to her other breast. He found his way to the loose denim at her hips again. A few tugs at the material bared her enough that he easily slipped his hand beneath her little lace knickers, cupped the heat of her, slid his fingers into her wet curls and filled her with a single digit.
The shudder that slid down her spine had Michael pulling away with one last lick to rest slightly to the side as his blue gaze sought her face, the part of her lips as he slid his finger nearly out of her wet heat and then slowly filled her with two. She was tight, needed this for what they both wanted, but even that was distant as he took in the sight of her.
Emma's blond hair was vividly tousled against his navy duvet, her eyes hazy and full of want, her skin flushed from the height of her cheeks to the tips of her nipples framed by the bra he'd pulled down, but not off. Her denims still clung to her hips, but his hand disappeared beneath to make her breathing go uneven.
She was beautiful.
She felt warm, too warm for body temperature to explain the goosebumps that spread incongruously over her skin. The rosy buds that had so recently been lavished with attention were taut, reaching out in search of the wet heat of Michael's mouth in vain. Still, Emma couldn't bring herself to complain about the loss, not when his hand was doing such lovely things elsewhere.
Rocking her hips to meet the slide of his fingers, Emma shivered. She'd forgotten how good this felt, or maybe it really was better this time, without the worry of what was to come. Whichever the case, Michael had her breaths coming in short, fast pants as needy mewls spilled from her lips.
Her eyes raised to his, so bright a blue they nearly glowed and for once she could read the usually inscrutable orbs. He wanted her. Wanted. The first time, Michael had made love to her because she'd come to him and asked for it. She knew he'd enjoyed their time together, but there was not the heat that she saw now in his eyes.
Her hands reached for him, pulling him close so she could taste him again. The kiss was urgent and seeking, hungry. She wanted him, too.
Michael drank her, fed from her mouth because he could and in that moment, Emma was his air. He'd always been especially attuned to people around him and just now, her want rolled over his own like a hot tide, insistent and ravenous. The mix of both heats, different but intending the same thing, was potent and demanding.
When she shuddered again, a moan lost from her mouth to his, Michael bit down on her bottom lip. She was ready for him, strained beneath him for the contact they both wanted, and in a deft movement, he released her lip and pulled his hand from her knickers. It was moment's work to rid her of the ballet flats she wore and tug her denims over her hips as she wriggled to help him.
He'd already his button and zip down when Emma helped to push the denim lower, but the material was only very low on his hips - far enough - when he slid his hand down her thigh to her hip, tugged. Michael didn't tease or wait, and unlike the time he deflowered her, there was no hesitation as he filled her completely, his own rasped breath lost to the side of her neck at how good she felt.
It didn't hurt, though Emma tensed minutely as her body stretched to accommodate him. Once he began to move, though, strong, determined thrusts that rocked the bed and her on it, all the tension melted away.
Twining her legs around Michael's hips to anchor herself, one hand came up to sift through his slightly too long hair as he stoked her desire, fanning the flames of her need until she couldn't hold it in. The breathy moans and soft grunts pouring from her mouth made her blush, but her body responded eagerly, matching him stroke for shiver-inducing stroke. He shifted, grazing a spot that made stars dance before her eyes and had her kitten claws pressing into his skin.
"That's it, dove," he said, his voice rough as he moved in her. "Just feel," he added, lips grazing her jaw.
Michael could feel her clenching around him, could hear how much it affected her in her voice, her breathing, the finest reactions of her body. When her nails dug, though, when she shivered, Michael shifted his hand from her hip down her thigh, grasped her none-too-gently and pulled until her leg was grazing against his side. A growl rumbled through his chest at her breathy gasp, the scrape of her nails, and Michael buried his face in her neck as he filled her, over and over, just there.
It was all haphazard now, but they were nearly lost in the heat as he rolled his hips just so, the new angle making them both a bit desperate for the release just barely out of reach.
Emma's eyes were closed, blocking out any distraction from the glorious sensations Michael was inspiring and the sounds coming from herself and her lover. It was intoxicating, almost unbearably pleasurable, the way he played her body as if she were an instrument, building her music rapidly toward a crescendo.
And then it came. A waterfall of pleasure crashed over her, shaking her from tip to toe as she was overwhelmed, her body no longer under her control. Clinging to him as she shuddered, Emma opened her eyes to find Michael's glowing blues fixed on her, predatory and edged with a wild tint as he approached the end of his endurance. She was transfixed.
He could feel her fluttering around him, her body shuddering, and Michael finally let go of the last shreds of his control and spilled himself in her, hand bruising on her hip has he buried himself two, three more times. The pleasure of sharing like this was comparable to nothing else in Michael's experience, the utter surrender a person had to choose to give themselves over to so that stars exploded in their vision and stole all coherency for a few moments in time.
He nuzzled his nose against the warm, damp skin of her neck, the wolf in him craving touch and the scent of her; honeysuckle and sex.
Their bodies were still intertwined, the only sound that of their still heavy breaths as Emma ran her fingers lightly over Michael's back. She felt languid and warm, hazy in the afterglow of what she and her lover had shared.
It was easy to see why Lola was so enthusiastic about sex, but Emma couldn't imagine going about things the way her friend did. As wonderful as she felt, even with the little aches from where Michael's hands had pressed just past the edge of comfort, she couldn't imagine sharing this with a stranger. Her pretty man might not be 'hers' completely, but Emma knew he cared for her and she cared for him. It was that attachment that made it... "Wow."
He chuckled against her skin, lips turning into a grin. "Something like that," he agreed, hand tracing up her side in a smooth, long stroke as he nibbled at her neck. He was content to stay where he was just yet, fitted together with her, but he touched because he wanted to and could. He wasn't a man that often craved anything, but he was not done with Emma.
He liked her and she was as uninhibited in this as she was everything else. It didn't hurt that they moved so well together or that she smelled good, tasted better - something the wolf in him was especially particular about.
Wiggling under his caress, Emma was surprised to feel a hint of desire flickering within her again. Already. But Michael's hand felt good on her skin and his lips were doing very nice things too; who could blame her for being affected by that?
"Michael?" she queried, voice airy as his teeth grazed her skin again.
"Dove?" His voice was a bit of a growling rumble as he nipped up her neck, fingers sliding into her hair as he rested on his arm above her yet.
"Can we play again?" She felt certain she knew the answer, but the roll of her hips could only help her case.
Michael grinned against her neck even as his hand tightened in her hair when she moved beneath him. It was not so long after their first time, but Michael had not spent himself fully and he was more than ready to indulge what had already been buzzing along his skin.
Reflexes even quicker than normal, Michael caught her hip and in one smooth movement filled her completely. "Like that, pet?"
Emma sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden and demonstrative answer to her question. As their bodies fell into the rhythm that was rapidly becoming second nature, she nuzzled Michael's cheek. "Just like that."
Summary: Emma pays Michael a long overdue visit. They play games. [NC-17]