the_gene_genie | OOM: Room 6620, #3

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OOM: Room 6620, #3

The evening did pass smoothly, and it's been a long time since he's been so grateful for anything. OK, there was the inevitable drifting of his thoughts back to recent - and not so recent - events, but it helped to have a distraction. He forced himself to concentrate on what happened with her today, and it gave him some respite. In hindsight, maybe he shouldn't have picked up The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly - he's seen it too many times to get fully lost in it.

Still. As things stand, he's got no complaints. But now it's over, and they do have to make an attempt at sleeping again. So he's in the bathroom, freshly out of the shower, newly shaved, and telling himself firmly that restraint is the order of the day, here.

Definitely a tad nervous when he emerges into the room, though.

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He doesn't know what to say to that. No one has ever done anything like that for him before. How could they? It's not like everyone knows the road to Heaven is through a pub, and even fewer that there's a magic bar as an alternative. But no one he's seen through that door has ever looked back. They've been glad to go. He never thought anyone would really want to stay, because of him.

It's probably a good thing. Most of them have been blokes. But the point stands.

His hand finds her face. He can't find any words. He just runs the pad of his thumb under her eye, along her cheekbone, and then leans in and kisses her. The sort of kiss that says thank you, and probably that other thing too, only he's never been good at speaking the important stuff.

They've never been good at speaking the important things to one another, so she's gotten used to reading him in other ways. What she feels in his touch is nothing short of amazing.

Her hands grip his shirt, and she trembles, her breath hitching as she kisses him. It's relief, and joy, and sorrow, all together a wash of emotion too rich to express any other way but through something so simple. So rare and wonderful.

There is gratitude in her touch as well.

Without him, she has no idea where she might have ended up. That's a thought she can't even look in the eye.

When she pulls back, she's sniffling, smiling through her tears.

'Besides, I still owe you a date. A proper one, without interruptions.'

'Tell me I don' have to wear the penguin suit again.'

It was a terrible hardship last time.

His hand returns to her hip, then slips 'round to her rear. He reckons he's allowed something, after that.

She laughs under her breath, a rich, warm sound that melts into something that might be called a purr.

'No, not if you don't want to.'

There may be a hint of disappointment in her voice.

'You do have to dance with me. That's not optional.'

Her knee slips between his and she hooks a heel behind his leg, pulling them closer until they're nose to nose.

'I liked where the dancing was going.'

Disappointment. Hmm. Maybe the tux will get another go.

He snorts a laugh, and gives her bum a squeeze.

'If the dancing's going to end up going that way, then OK. No problem.'

He runs his hand up her leg as she moves it between his, before returning it to where it started.

'...'course if you keep doing that, I can't promise to stay a gentleman much longer.'

She hums in agreement, or is it another purr at the feel of his hand on her thigh?

'I should probably move to the other bed.'

She makes no move to do that. He's warm, and he smells divine. And she's needed this for so long.

'Yeah. Prob'ly.'

He makes no move to let her go. If anything, he inches her leg a little tighter between his, to the point where his breath hitches.

'For the record, if I disappear suddenly, you likely won't need to come check if I'm OK. Especially if I'm in the bathroom.'

Unless getting an unexpected eyeful is on her agenda, or does it for her or something.

'Right.' She sounds a little breathless herself, easing his way by lifting her knee just enough.

'Is it cheating if we leave all our clothes on?'

She wants to take his hand, and put it where she needs it, but she doesn't dare move. Her body is betraying her even now. When his thigh comes to rest against her, she can't help but curl her hips.

'Um...dunno.'

His voice sounds heavy with want even to his own ears, and he knows he just set out the reasons why waiting is important, but...oh God he has wanted this for three years.

And the problem is, he believes her when she says she wants this. He knew what they had before, he's not ignorant. And she came back because of him.

He doesn't move. But he does say, 'I'm gonna vote 'no'. Not cheating.'

'Good, because if you don't touch me soon, I may lose my mind entirely.'

She leans in for another kiss, shifting to grind against his thigh, pressing against the hard length she feels at her hip. The surge of pleasure is so intense, she gasps, arching into him. This is probably a mistake, going too quickly, could stand to wait, all of that seems perfectly reasonable and rational and completely unnecessary when he's lying beside her, holding her, touching her.

He groans into her mouth, and presses back immediately, body once more operating without intervention from the brain. They're already pressed tight, but he rolls a little anyway, so she's on her back and he's fitted against her side, one thigh hard between her legs.

'Problem is,' he says, between kisses and already panting a bit, 'as soon as I get near your tits, I'm done for. An' if you want my hands somewhere else, I'm gonna have to move me leg.'

And therefore, won't have that friction against her side. And right now, he's thinking - or part of him is - that's a horrible idea.

Edited 2012-07-06 23:59 (UTC)

'Right. No tits.'

She grins against his mouth, curling her free leg around his, pulling it in snug against her body. Alex has always been a problem solver, and this is just another problem for her to work out. Breathless, giggling a bit, she starts to move. Her hips scribe a lazy circle against his thigh, and she ripples with the sweet relief.

'Like this then.'

He squeezes his eyes shut, and shifts his weight, so he's not pushing against her hip quite so hard, and to anchor his leg steady for her.

'That'll do it for you? You sure?'

He does want her to get what she seems to need.

'Unless you have -- any other -- ideas?'

She's open to suggestions.

Her head presses back into the pillows, her lips parted, trying to stifle the moans now rising in her chest. She slips a hand down between their bodies, down the softness of his belly, down between his legs, feeling the incredible heat of his body through the thin fabric of his pyjamas. She wishes there was a light, so she could see his face when she caresses him.

'Oh, plenty. But they all involve-'

He cuts off because she's touching him. She's touching him, and how many years has she dreamt about her hand doing this? For her to just reach down and touch, like it's no big thing...he freezes for a moment, and then automatically pulls back a bit, so she's got room to play.

'Careful. He's loaded.'

He trails off into a moan, and presses into her hand. Then laughs quietly.

'I was goin' to save him as a surprise. Now I'm just- - oh-'

His intake of breath is sharp, but nothing ever felt so good. He puts a hand over hers for a moment, stilling her touch while he regains some control.

'Mind out. I haven' unloaded in me kecks since I were twelve, an' Tracey Entwhistle rubbed me off in the bogs at lunchtime.'

It was satisfying, but made for a sticky afternoon. But seeing as he's shifted to make room for her... his hand slides off hers, and comes to rest at the base of her stomach. He rubs gently, but with a little trepidation, and hints at moving lower.

'Can I...?'

Edited 2012-07-07 13:15 (UTC)

Another hungry kiss steals the question from his lips, using the moment's distraction to run the palm of her hand along that hard ridge, as far as she can. 'A surprise? You must think you're the only one who steals a glance every now and then.'

It only takes a moment to shift, using that little bit of space to turn until they're face to face. Her free hand catches his wrist in a gentle grasp and guides it down, her knee rising to rest on his thigh, giving him all the room he needs to play.

Her breath hitches at the feel of his hand, and her body goes still. Sensitized nerve endings, aching for his touch, all light up at once, stealing her breath. Even through her clothes, he feels so good .

'Pervert.'

And he's pretty sure it's not as obvious for blokes - at least, normal blokes, who don't wear hippy trousers that are too tight. But frankly, just now, who cares? She just put his hand between her legs, and if the world was collapsing all over again, he doesn't think he'd notice.

He keeps his lips pressed to hers as he applies some pressure, using the heel of his hand as something firm for her to push against, grinding it gently against her. Her leggings make finding specifics a bit hard, but if this doesn't do enough, he'll work around it.

She presses back against his hand, letting slip a quiet cry, high and tight with arousal. Another kiss, messy and uncoordinated, and she's moving in time with him, matching the rhythm he's marking out with both hips and hand.

'You dress right,' she breathes, following the line of that curve with delicate fingertips, stroke and return, stroke and return. 'And I'd wager, you wear briefs more often than not.' The words are murmured against his jaw, and even though her voice is honey dark, the hand that is not occupied is gripping his shirt so tightly, her knuckles have gone white.

'Well, gotta keep...' his voice is low and rough, words interspersed with sharp breaths, 'him under control.

...bloody 'ell, luv.'

The lightness of her touch is doing his head in, in all the best ways. The 'him' in question is straining under her hand, looking for more, shooting waves of sharp pleasure through his body at each stroke. He hasn't got the energy to tense up and help it along; fored by exhaustion to lie there and take it. His only movement is to push into her rhythm a little.

And to rub between her legs, of course. The heat under his hand is both glorious and frustrating - glorious because she wants him, and he's been fantasising about being allowed to touch for years. Frustrating because there's a layer of cloth separating him from what he wants, disallowing specifics. No matter. He shifts his hand so his fingertips press over her clit, trying to give her more focused attention.

'Think it's cheating if the clothes stay on, but we go under them?'

'Yes, that's -- definitely cheating.'

That one gentle touch makes all rational thought flee, and the shuddering groan he gets should make that clear. Her hand melts around his prick, as much as is possible, feeling the heft and girth of him. Another wanton moan, and she has to fight down a surge of desire.

'I wouldn't want to stop... Maybe we should try... Something different.'

This time it's her turn to shift, and roll him onto his back, catching his hands and guiding them to her waist as she throws a leg over him again. She makes no attempt to keep the distance between them, wanting to feel heat against heat, needing the press of his hips against hers.

'Less temptation,' she murmurs, hoping she's right.

He can't stop himself - his fingers slip under her top, and for the very first time, he feels her skin under his hands. It nearly pushes him too far - he groans openly, and one searches upwards towards her chest before he checks himself. That really would be the end of him. So he pulls back, and just strokes over her flat stomach instead, biting his lip before grasping her waist firmly.

'OK. Like this.'

He reckons pretty much anything'll do it for him right now. And he manages a quiet chuckle in between the heavy breaths he's snatching.

'Good old-fashioned dry hump. Can't beat it.'

Her hands track his, light as air on his wrists, and maybe he can feel her leaning forward into that touch. There's a growl of disagreement, quiet but distinct, as he shies away.

'Hell yes I could. But we're going slow, remember?'

Her hips are already in motion, keeping the pressure and friction just so, her breath coming quicker now. She's never been shy about what she wants in bed, but with him, it's different. There's a longing for connection, and the baser hunger that's roaring through her skin can't even hold a candle to what she really needs.

'I can't see you...'

His eyes screw shut, sweet pressure where he needs it most, struggling not to let her overwhelm him.

'Can't remember why.'

It was important though, he's sure. He tries to hold on to that as his hands encourage her to move, as he grinds up into her, ragged moans pulled from his chest as the friction comes faster.

'More, luv.'

There's too much air between them, and she lowers herself to brush a kiss along his jaw.

'Doesn't matter,' she murmurs, picking up the pace, the shift from teasing to striving a gradual one. It feels right, natural even, to move with him. It feels like something they should have been doing all along, as easy as breathing and far more satisfying.

'Oh god...

The first hints of orgasm trickle into her awareness, and the sound of his voice is a match on petrol. There's a stutter to her movements, but she keeps going, intent on seeing him through.

His hands move under her top, to come to rest on her ribs. He turns his head to capture her lips, and tries desperately to keep the rhythm even. His chest pulls with the effort of holding it all together - he has no barriers at the moment, no energy to resist. But he's trying.

'Don' stop.'

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