the_gene_genie | OOM: Texas, 1888. Just outside Oakville

She doesn't care. It feels amazing, and knowing he wants her, that this is giving him pleasure too, only adds to everything else until finally the scales have toppled.

She grabs the sheets in a desperate fist and arches, slowly, as if the pressure building inside her is lifting her into the air. She breathes out, harsh and loud, and goes tight

and then it all bursts through her in a handful of violent seconds, pleasure whiting out the world and everything in it. She can't stay silent, though she tries. The sharp breath in she takes is laced with a pleasured cry, every inch of her rocking and trembling with release.

The instinct is to pull away, and breathe. But he doesn't. She goes so tight; how can he not see her all the way through it? So he keeps lapping at her, slower now, but trying to draw it out until she comes down, or pushes him away.

He never stops watching her. She can be a pain in the arse, but God, she's gorgeous.

After a few seconds the rocking of her hips slows down, becoming so gentle you might even think she's gone still. She's rolling against him, catching her breath, indulging in the ebbing pangs of ecstasy. Her hand slides from her breast, down her belly and back into his hair, stroking him like a pussycat.

When she's finally caught her breath, she tilts her chin to her chest so she can catch his eyes. She gives him a gentle tug.

She means to kiss the ever-loving hell out of him.

He lets her go when she starts to slow in earnest, leaning his head against her thigh so he can catch his breath. He gives his mouth a wipe, and then just waits for her with a bit of a grin on his face.

He needs no more encouragement than that tug, of course. He does stop en route to nuzzle at her breasts, and lay a gentle kiss on her throat. But then he's kissing her, nice and slow, rubbing gently against her as he does.

Result.

He should be able to feel her heart racing when he kisses her throat. It's pounding so loudly she's sure it's echoing in the room; but that doesn't deter her from kissing him in earnest, nice and easy, just like him, so she's sure not to lose her breath.

She moves against him, pressing firmly where he's rubbing up, moaning when she feels just how hard he is. That was amazing for her, and despite what he says it looks like it was all right for him as well.

She wraps her arms around him. They're heavy now, like lead weights; but she doesn't let go. She brings him in close to her, rubbing her body up against his. Her leg slides around his hip, making sure he's snug against her.

She definitely doesn't look like she hated it, that's for sure. And he loves the way she closes around him in increments; arms around him, body against him, leg over his hip. It's like being folded into something warm and welcoming, without all their usual bullshit. He could get used to this.

'Like this?' he murmurs, quiet against her lips.

'Or, you wan' to...like las' night?'

"Like this," she whispers, dragging her lips over his. Slow, light kisses.

She's breathing heavily, lingering in the heady afterglow. She'll let him take control for now, until she can right the world around her.

Edited 2011-09-20 01:47 (UTC)

''K.'

He's as careful as he can be, given how turned on he is right now. He slips his hand between them, lines up right, hissing quietly from the pressure of his hand around the sensitive head.

Just an inch or so, to start with. It's as excruciating for him as last night, immediately tight, but so warm and wet he can't help but love it.

'Better'n yesterday?'

Her head drops back, eyes slipping shut. They squeeze tight as he pushes into her, and she arches, letting out a controlled breath.

She opens her eyes slowly, nodding just slightly.

"A lil'."

It's still an uncomfortably tight fit, obvious in the strained tones of her voice. But it will get better, right? Her leg climbs up his hip, giving them both a little more room.

He bloody hopes it will. He dreams of one day not having to go so slow, of being able to have her the way he wants, without being so careful. But it's not her fault, and she clings to him so tight, he's not about to start complaining.

And he can tell it's still hurting her. But what can he do? Keep going slow, nudging into her little by little, gritting his teeth against the pressure, and the hot bands of pleasure clenching around his shaft every time one of them moves. Just wants to get to her g-spot. If it's going to get better, that'll be the place.

Her breath catches each time he nudges himself a little further inside her. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, exhaling shallow little puffs of air, licking the salt off his skin. He still tastes of soap and dirt.

"God Almighty."

He's just so long. Just when she thinks they've reached the limit, he presses in a little deeper. There has to be a way to make this more comfortable for them both; some different position. But she only knows the two.

He stops, eventually. He's barely moving in her now, but it's obviously not working for her. And he's a lot of things, but definitely not the type to hurt a woman for his own gratification. So he slows, and halts, breathing out hard.

'Let's try it sittin' up. Or from behind, if y'like, though I don' know if that'll be any easier.'

She lays her head back and catches her breath, searching out his dark eyes.

"Y'think it'll help?"

She has no idea, no preference either way. But she nods just slightly. She trusts him.

'Should do.'

Maybe. No guarantee. It's not the angle that's the problem, really, but neither of them can change their size, so they'll just have to make the best of it. So he slides out carefully, wincing at the pressure still, and moves past her to the head of the bed. He sticks a pillow against the wall and gets comfortable leaning on it, then crosses his legs loosely.

'C'mere.'

She carefully rolls onto her side, watching him. Spread out in all his glory. There's no keeping her eyes off his body like this, and she blushes when she catches herself staring at him.

She gets to her hands and knees and crawls her way up to him, slowly because she's feeling it deep in her muscles. But she doesn't dawdle. They'll make this work. And if it doesn't, they'll make something else work.

Neither one of them are very good at giving up.

Edited 2011-09-20 02:49 (UTC)

If he notices her staring, he doesn't seem to mind. He's too busy eyeing up her tits anyway.

'Tha's it. Jus'...'

He encourages her to straddle his lap, leaning in to kiss her in a way he hopes is reassuring. When it comes to sex, he has no intention of giving up, no. One hand closes over a breast, and he murmurs in appreciation, ushering her closer.

'Jus' like las' night. Slow as you like, only its easier for me to help like this.'

She nods gently, settling herself astride him. The kiss is reassuring, and she goes back in for another.

Just relax, Kate. Relax.

She moans quietly, not breaking from his lips. Her hands move between them, and before she guides him to her opening she spends a few seconds stroking him, recalling all the things that drove him crazy earlier. She doesn't want this to be disappointing for him. She wants to make him as excited as he makes her.

He moans quietly when her hands stroke him, and his hands curl around her backside, easing her forward, silent encouragement to sit down on him.

It'd be hard for this to be disappointing for him - unless he can't get her off. Then it would be, and a firm blow to his ego as well.

'Take your time. He's not' goin' anywhere.'

He hopes.

She snickers softly, tension easing from her shoulders.

"Not yet, anyway."

She hopes.

She draws in a deep breath, circling his corona with the pad of her finger. Grasping to the lingering satisfaction of her orgasm, she brings one hand to the brass headboard and eases down on him, running his head along her slit before pressing him to her opening. She doesn't break eye contact, almost level with him for once and needing to see the look in his gorgeous blue eyes.

'Don' you listen to her,' he mutters, in the direction of his cock.

Yes, he talks to his penis. Sometimes.

But not for long, this time. No danger of losing his edge when she plays with him like that; he's definitely got a weakness for the gentle touch. And as they're almost level, she'll be able to see the lust in his eyes when she eases down on him. Should certainly be able to feel the way his hands tighten, and hear the way he sucks his breath over his teeth.

There are so many things to tease him for. Every time she turns around, he's given her fresh ammunition. She'll save it for later this time, only because he's already shut up, and likely for the same reasons she's not speaking either.

There's a distinct femininity in the way her breath catches, in the little tremor, and gasp. This is a whole new way of doing things, and she finds already that she likes it. Having the control of riding him, while still being able to look in his eyes, feel his hands on her, touch her chest to his.

She takes him in as deep as last night and pauses. A wrinkle forms in her brow, and she allows her eyes to slip shut for a second. She hums, a quite mmm that sounds like she's taken a bite of something truly decadent.

He smiles breathlessly, and brings one hand up to caress her breast, dragging his thumb lightly over the nipple.

'Better?'

It's looking promising. And feeling even more so. He loves this position too, because it gives a great view of her chest, and can be varied to suit.

He leans in, turns his head so he can kiss her throat softly, and taste the sweat there. His turn to hum in appreciation, though he doesn't try and push her down further. She can take all the time she needs.

She moves her hips in a slow, circular motion, testing and savoring, adjusting. She nods, a quiet mm-hm falling from her lips before she reopens her eyes, and catches him just before he leans in to kiss her. She sighs, moving her hand to his shoulder, and carefully starts to rock.

He loses a moan as soon as she starts, muscles tensing through his shoulders. But he reminds himself to breathe easy, and is glad she already sorted him out once today, so that this is less desperate than it might have been. He can relax, let her play, let himself enjoy her body.

So he leans back, resting his head against the wall and watching her from under half-lowered lids. His hand remains at her breast, the other helping her keep steady, curled around the taut swell of her backside. The steady roll of pleasure washing through him can be seen in the sharp bobbing of his Adam's apple; when she clenches too hard his eyes close, and he can't swallow at all, holding his breath until a grunt escapes and frees him again.

It's still more passive than he generally likes, but when she's this tight, it doesn't matter. Any position's going to get him off, it's just a matter of holding off until she's had her fill. And anyway, she looks bloody gorgeous like this.

She's so careful at first, more steady than slow; grateful for the natural lubrication of her orgasm. Once they find a rhythm it's more about the penetration than the speed. Every time he pushes her limits she gasps, slows a bit, and has to find her bearings again.

It really doesn't take that long. Her hand slides over his knuckles, cupping the back of his hand the way he's cupping her breast. She holds onto the headboard, desperate to keep it from knocking against the wall as they move. And then she's free to speed up in increments.

She's still putting forth a lot more concentration than would likely make them both most comfortable. Concentrating on keeping the thrusts light; concentrating on keeping the rhythm; concentrating on making this good for him. However, she catches herself every now and then. She'll lean in, feather her lips over his, kissing him so gently it's barely there at all, leaving wet, warm prints behind her as she moves on to someplace new.

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