the_gene_genie | OOM: Room 6620, #6

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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?'

It takes her a moment to find her words.

'Yeah...'

She blinks up at him, her pupils shot wide, her irises dark. Her hand seems locked to his fleece.

'Still want you...' Her fingers mark the line of his jaw, her thumb brushing over his lips. It feels like the whole lower half of her body is throbbing, and every brush of his finger tips draws a sigh to her lips.

'Good.'

He slips his fingers out of her, and kisses her again as he tries to get the button on his jeans open.

''cos I think Sergeant Rock's got a passing interest in proceedings.'

He sounds breathless, and his mouth never strays far from hers. It's awkward, but he gets his jeans and pants pushed far enough down his arse to do the job, and that's all he cares about. Her leggings get an insistent tug, encouraging her to lift one leg so that he can slip the things off it, because there's no way he's getting up far enough to let her get them off properly.

She grins at him, her eyes hooded and her movements languid. One hand reaches down to still his at her waist.

'We have time, don't we?' She casts a glance at the bed, not ten feet from where they are. Her gaze returns to his face, her own hunger mirroring his. But if this is to be the last time (for awhile, she tries to remind herself), then they deserve more.

His eyebrows raise, and he follows her glance.

'...not kicking me out yet, are you?'

He'd been planning to stay for the dinner they ordered, and a bit after, and possibly most of the night, if she let him. Still, he takes a calming breath and pulls his shorts back up.

'Come on, then.'

She goes with him, staying close, shedding her clothes as she moves. Her jumper gets tossed aside, along with her bra. It takes a bit to shimmy out of her leggings and knickers, but she manages without even a wobble. All the while, she's inches away from him, purring under her breath and stealing kisses, her hands tugging at his fleece and his jeans.

Her hand slithers under his waist band, careful fingertips marking the hard curve of him. She hisses her appreciation at the heat and weight of him.

'Hurry...'

He's going as fast as he can, but his injured leg means it takes a few moments to get off the couch, and she's distracting him with all the kissing, and taking her clothes off.

'Trying.'

His eyes shut when her hand slips between his legs; he immediately covers it with his own, and pushes his erection into her grasp. He's got his fleece and shirt off. There's only jeans and underwear in the way, so he leans down, still holding her hand against him, and kisses her hard.

'You do it. Take 'em off me.'

God, she can't get enough of him. The backs of her knees hit the mattress, and she gasps as she falls, a bit inelegant but not deterred . Her fingers can't work fast enough, tugging at the button on his jeans. She grins up at him, her teeth fixed in her lower lip.

A moment later, her hands find bare skin. She growls low under her breath, easing his jeans down slow enough to torture them both.

'My turn...'

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject