the_gene_genie | OOM: Room 6620, #6

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OOM: Room 6620, #6

He knows he's probably in trouble as he drags himself up the stairs. He only went down to have a quick pint, and pick up some more wine. He's been gone about five hours now, he estimates, though it's really hard to care. Sitting on the garage floor after a scrap has left him stiff as a board, and freezing cold. The half bottle of Scotch - not to mention Guppy smacking him on the melon a few times - means his head's pounding. Everything aches, and he wants nothing more than to climb into a warm bed, and stay there forever.

But he can't do that. Enough of this. He's been trying so hard, but it's time to throw in the towel. He can't go through another encounter like that. All that's left is to tell her.

He lets himself into their room quietly, half hoping she'll be asleep but knowing he'd have to wake her up anyway.

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The thumb playing with her nipple stills, and it's his turn to groan. Just quietly, more like an expulsion of air, only louder. She's good at finding that spot, the one that seems to be wired directly to his groin.

His response is to turn as best he can, and press her down so they're half-lying on the sofa, tangled around each other with him on top, hand still under her shirt. The angle's not great, and his body hurts, but he doesn't care. This is like exploring his first girlfriend all over again, hot and close and twice as much fun, because they both actually know what they're doing.

She moves with him, sinking into the cushions so there's room for both of them, drawing his leg between her own. She sighs, her mouth returning to his for another kiss, taking her time to explore, to savour, to drink him like she was dying of thirst, and he the last cool drink of water.

Her fingertips play up the nape of his neck, marking the curve of his skull, letting her nails graze over his scalp. All the while, listening to his breath, letting him tell her without words, what he wants. And doing her best to give it to him, without reservation.

He takes his hand off her breast just long enough to fumble his belt open, because he doesn't want it to dig into her. Not when he's about to press down against her, like so, thigh pressed up between her legs; not when he's going to kiss her firmly, and push his hand back up her top to free her other tit so he can play with it.

This is what he wants, and he's not adverse to taking it. Her, against him, available and enjoying him touching her. That's all he wants.

He fumbles for his belt and she grins against his lips, gasping in quiet delight at the feel of his thigh pressing against that bundle of nerves, the wash of heat waking her whole body up . She arches beneath him, her fingertips digging into his shoulders.

'Hold on, let me.. .' She twists, lifting up so she can fumble for the clasp of her bra, stealing ragged breaths between messy kisses. Once it gives way, her arms wrap around his neck again, and she falls back, a brazen moan caught in her throat.

He moans too, as both her breasts fall free. He jams his elbow into the sofa cushion to keep himself steady, so the other hand can join in, cupping her and drawing his thumb over the nipple to make it hard. He doesn't stop kissing her, panting quietly and pressing rhythmically against her leg. Just a gentle rocking that pushes his thigh up against her too.

'You want...bed?'

He wants to stay here. But he can't bend one leg, and twisting on the sofa is painful.

It doesn't stop him putting his mouth against her neck, and sinking his teeth gently into her skin. Because he knows she likes it, and she can have whatever she wants.

She's on the cusp of answering his question when he does that, and all capacity for language evaporates for a few moments. Her head tips back, slowly. Goosebumps flare down her shoulders and across her decolletage, causing her nipples to stand up hard as diamonds. He can feel the way her entire body responds, the way her thighs clamp down on his leg and her nails bite into his shoulders. Her awareness folds down to that single point of contact, hot and wet and perfect.

'Fuck...' Quiet and heartfelt, a distant part of her wonders if that's enough of an answer for now.

Edited 2012-10-29 19:03 (UTC)

His breath comes harder for a minute, and his mouth trails down her neck and along her shoulder. Not far, only just past the curve. He bites again, a little more firm, and with his finger and thumb pinching at the peak on her breast, giving the slightest of twists.

It was no kind of answer she gave, but that's OK. It can wait.

He's rewarded with a soft, wanton cry, an almost primal sound, raw and high-pitched. Again, she goes taut beneath him, curling into him, hiding her face against his temple, her fingers delving into his hair.

'Gene....'

She doesn't even care where they are anymore. All she knows is he's touching her, taking her apart, and she doesn't want him to ever, ever stop.

He gives up on the idea of moving, and takes his hand off her breast. His mouth stays at her neck, but he pulls his body back an inch or two, just enough room to push under the waistband of her leggings. The elastic doesn't want to cooperate, and catches on the thick sleeve of his fleece; he shoves it down as best he can without taking his mouth off her, fingers stretching to rub her clit over the top of her knickers.

'S'good?'

His hand fumbles between them, and she puts her palms on his shoulders, urging him up. Her eyes are wild and dark, her lips ruddy from kissing him.

'Your knee,' she whispers, and her eyes flutter closed when he finds his mark. 'Bed's -- probably --'

It's no use. Coherency isn't happening just now.

'Shh. S'alright.'

He'll put up with it for this. He presses back down, watching her face, and hooks his finger in the slinky material that separates him from what he wants. He's kissing her again when he pushes his fingers inside her, and groaning quietly when his thumb finds her clit.

How did this glorious, stubborn, infuriating man get so far under her skin? How did that happen? How can it feel like each kiss is as vital as drawing the next breath? She doesn't know, and if she thought about it, it would scare more than a bit.

But she can't think, can't do anything but exist in this moment, feeling the softness of his mouth against hers, feeling those long wicked fingers slipping over her slick flesh, pressing up into her body like a key in a lock. Her knee rises, giving him more room to play, and her hips roll against his hand, the motion rippling through her body until she's moaning into his mouth again.

'That's it,' he murmurs against her lips, before capturing them again. There's nothing more erotic than her opening up to him, offering herself, and he'll take full advantage.

'Beautiful, sweet'eart.'

His free hand pulls her top up so he can see her chest, but his fingers don't stop working in her, playing over her g-spot in careful circles, gentle pressure, just building her up as his thumb traces uneven circles around her clit. He is going to make her come apart. Nothing else matters just now.

The cool air on her skin is a shock, and her eyes open, looking up at him. It's not fair. All she can feel is fleece beneath her hands, and she wants the warmth of his skin under her palms. He moves in her, and her lips part, a quiet growl of arousal and frustration rising in her throat.

It takes a bit of manoeuvring, her hands giving up their grip around his neck to search under his shirt, tugging it out of his jeans. There's too many layers between them, and he's making it hard to think when he does that.

He laughs quietly, but no way in hell is he stopping long enough to get his top off. She'll have to wait, or make do with touching him underneath his shirt. His mouth runs back to her neck, stopping on the way to nip her earlobe before sinking his teeth into her skin again. He moans as he does it, knowing she loves it, pressing harder with his fingers at the same time.

She'll make do with whatever he'll allow; she just needs that skin to skin contact. He bites, moans, presses into her, and her body shudders hard, the sensation sharp and sweet, far better than anything she's ever felt.

Her eyes roll back, and she keens low under her breath. She clings to him, panting now, her hands finding purchase around his waist, her hips dancing on his attentions. The first strands of her orgasm are joining together, wrapping around her, drawing her toward the inevitable. He holds her there, pins her down with the weight of his regard, and she surrenders, arching as another wave takes her closer to the edge.

'Ohhh yeah, that's it that's it that's it...'

He pulls his head back so he can watch her face, and hits a proper rhythm now, pushing in and out of her as if they were shagging for real. Only this way, he can push exactly where she needs, and there's no faltering, no lack of control. He can keep going and going, pistoning his fingers in and out, making sure he hits the spot every time. His thumbs slips over, and on, and around her clit, spreading the wetness around, making him crazy with desire for her. His cock is pressed hard against her hip, and he wouldn't take it away for anything in the world.

Her eyes open onto that gaze, her mouth twisted in ecstasy, her brow furrowed in concentration. Each press of his hand is telegraphed through her body, rising in soft, ragged breaths between them.

'Not yet... Gene.'

Her words and the tone of her voice are at odds, one asking him to hold off, the other begging him to keep going, to push her until she breaks.

'Why?'

He doesn't stop. He does slow down a bit though, because he'll always stop if she really wants him to. His mouth moves up to hers.

'I want to see it.'

One hand slips from beneath his shirt, skimming up his chest to touch his face. She lifts up to kiss those lips, to taste his mouth and breathe his breath. Her hips never slow, and the tension in her body doesn't fade. He wants to see, and she wants to show him. But she doesn't want it to be over yet. When they're done, he's leaving. And she doesn't want him to leave.

'I want you...'

The push and pull of her heart feels like it's tearing her in two. But she wouldn't give it up for the world. She wants him, and that's all that matters right now.

'After.'

He speeds up again, pushing her along, his gaze intent on her face.

'Wanna see you come.'

He's seen her vulnerable before, drunk or bereft, drugged or simply insensible, but this is different. This will always be different, for her at least. This is where she shows him everything. This is where she lays down all her armor, where the cold, competent exterior is stripped away and there's nothing left between them.

Her gaze meets his, and her hand slips to his shoulder, gripping him tight against the coming wave. Every press of his hand rocks her body. Her lips part, and each breath is a quiet moan. Her mouth twists in concentration, and her hips keep the rhythm. Heat pools between her legs, low in her belly and it feels like she's dissolving.

She whispers his name at the first tremor, and her whole body goes rigid beneath him. Her eyes close and her head falls back. Her hands never let him go.

He smiles quietly, letting his fingers slow. They still move, but gentle now, not pushing.

And seeing as she's offered it so nicely, he leans down and brushes his mouth against her throat, making a small sound of appreciation for the clench of her around him.

It seems to last forever, the strength of it taking her by surprise. It leaves her trembling, quite literally. The long muscles of her thighs quiver, and her torso twitches as the pleasure bleeds through her nerves, dissipating over a long few minutes.

She's dimly aware of the feel of his lips at her throat, and her hands weave in his hair, holding him close. She needs him close after that.

He eventually brings his face up, and kisses her lips. Still smiling.

'Still with me?'

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