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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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...'

He swallows, and without having a conscious thought, his hand slips around to the back of her head. A step forward, and he doesn't push, but there's an undeniable easing of her towards the erection he's holding out for her to see to. It's flushed already, damp at the tip, evidence of how much he enjoys making her come.

'Go on, luv.'

She never breaks eye contact with him, leaning in close to brush her cheek against velvet skin. Her head turns, and she draws in his scent. His musk fills her head, and she can't help but moan. It's right there, and all she has to do is part her lips and taste, drawing him in in one smooth motion. Her hands smooth up his chest, down over his hips, down his thighs, urging his jeans down to the ground before moving up again, devouring his skin by touch alone. He'll never know how much restraint it takes, but she does her best to take her time, watching his face as she makes love to him.

His breath catches in his throat, and he has to force himself to let it out. She looks so beautiful like this, not doing it because she has to, but because she clearly wants to. It lets him relax, and not rush, confident that she's enjoying it too.

The knot in his gut wants it harder, tighter, faster. But he says nothing, and doesn't encourage her, doesn't push further into her mouth. The slow sucking, the gentle pulse around him as she squeezes, her hands all over his body - he moans quietly on the next exhale, and strokes his fingers through her hair, trusting her to get them there eventually.

Her eyes fall closed, and her focus narrows to just this, strong hands gathering him up, circling the base of his shaft and pulling him away from his body. There's an urgency in her touch, a slow intensity that's building breath by breath. Wet lips fix around the head, and with a slow press, she takes him deep.

When she withdraws, it's with a breathless gasp, and she gives him no quarter, sliding down the keel all the way to his bollocks, painting his skin with wet, suckling kisses. Keeping a firm grasp on his shaft, stroking him as she explores.

He stands with his head tipped slightly back, mouth open, eyes closed, and draws long, deep breaths into his lungs to try and control himself. He can't stop arching into her mouth a little, pushing to meet her when she sucks him in so deep, but he doesn't want to choke her.

So he fights to stay still, through his fingers don't seem to have got the message. They knead her scalp gently, pressing harder when she catches him around the crown and makes him groan. Eventually, one hand moves to relieve some of the pressure, reaching underneath her chin to cup his sac. He presses forward again, swearing softly as he squeezes, and rolls his balls in his palm.

'...'dy hell, Alex.'

She pulls away from his touch, nipping at his fingers playfully. Her hand grasps his wrist, making it clear that she can take over that little detail, both with hand and mouth.

'Come and lie down,' she purrs against his skin, returning to suckling him a little harder, her hands starting to make demands.

'Mmm.'

That's a good plan. His leg hurts. But still - she's sucking him again, and his chest pulls in sharply as he grunts quietly in surprise.

'Need to...stop that. First.'

She pulls off him with a breathless moan, taking his hand as she stands, easing him towards the bed.

'On your back. I'm not finished with you, yet.'

'Glad to hear it.'

He turns and sits, easing himself backwards because he still can't bend the stupid knee. It's going to be a problem later, because he doesn't want to be passive. But they'll sort that in a bit. For now, his cock aches and he palms it as he turns lengthways on the bed, trying to ease it a bit.

'C'mon, sweetheart.'

There's a note of desperation in his voice, and he doesn't care.

As if she's going to leave him wanting. Not a chance of that happening. Not a chance in hell. She insinuates herself between his legs, stalking up his body, painting his skin with hungry kisses. Her hands stroke up his thighs as she bends to catch him in her mouth again, her body melting down across his hips to pin him right where she wants him. Again, she keeps eye contact as she works, and there's a fire in her gaze, dark and intent.

A groan chokes out of him, and his fingers immediately work back into her hair. A little more pressure this time, keeping her right where he wants her, trying his best to arch up into her willing mouth. He holds her gaze, breathless, feeling the flush over his cheeks as she twists him higher and higher.

He makes it easy to let the rest of her cares just fall away. All she has to do is look into his eyes, those amazing blue eyes. So many times, she has wanted to reach out and touch him, to make this shared gaze into something more than just a stolen moment of intimacy. And here she is, her hands petting over his skin, his hand warm in her hair, and those eyes, looking at her like she's all that matters right now.

Her eyes fall shut and she focuses on the sound of his voice, on the rhythm of his body. He makes it easy to let go and pour herself over him, pour herself into the act of pleasing him, with breath and touch and kiss.

Edited 2012-11-29 03:05 (UTC)

She is all that matters right now. Since the world nearly fell, she has been all that matters. He can't lose this now, not when they've been given this chance to get it right.

'Alex...'

She's relentless, and perfect, and he can't stop himself thrusting up to meet her. She keeps her mouth so tight, so warm and wet, and she never let's up. He keens quietly, and suddenly grips her hair, twisting and trying to pull away and push forward at the same time.

'Stop...sweet'eart, stop...Christ...'

The moment he asks, she stills, separating from him with a breathless moan. The momentum of her hunger carries her up his body, stalking on all fours, holding herself above him. She tries to catch her breath, needing her wits about her so she can savor every little detail about him. Her lips mark a soft, wet line up his chest until she's nuzzling under his chin.

Her voice carries a note of concern. 'Too much, love?'

'Never. Just close.'

The hand at the back of her neck ushers her up so he can kiss her; the other runs over her shoulder-blade, down her side and on to her arse. He squeezes gently, then pushes down, encouraging her silently to take what's waiting for her.

He dreams about coming in her mouth, but she's not a prostitute, and he'll never ask her to let him. And it's not like her riding him will ever be a poor substitute.

She meets his kiss, letting her hunger slip, letting him feel just how much she wants him. Her body settles along his, chest to chest, astride his hips with just enough room to slide along his entire length, catching his aching cock between them.

'Next time,' she murmurs, and the very thought stokes the fire in her skin. She deepens the kiss with a soft hum of arousal, letting his hands draw her up until she's poised to take him in. Only then does she pull back to look into his eyes again.

He is all that matters to her, now. Maybe he can see that reflected in her gaze, or feel it in the way she's holding her breath.

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