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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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.

'Next time...what?'

He's panting quietly, trying not to push at her, but arching up again as though he could reach high enough to take her. He can feel her wetness sliding over the crown of him, and the mental image makes him groan; more so when he looks down, and sees it for real.

'...Sweet'eart...'

He doesn't add the please, because Gene Hunt does not beg. But he's thinking it in his head.

It's as simple as drawing a breath, and just as powerful, letting her weight settle as their bodies align. The heat of his skin penetrates her, and the feel of him sliding home sends a frisson through her entire body. He feels so good, she can barely think, let alone speak to answer his question.

All she can do is take him, inch by inch, until she's flush against his hips, breathing in and out slowly, forcing herself to make this last. His desire makes her own catch and burn, but she doesn't want this over quickly. She can't stop the gentle push and pull, answering his own hunger. She could never deny him this. Or anything, really.

His eyes flicker closed, and he exhales softly through parted lips. His hands slide around to rest on her hips. He makes himself lie still while she takes him, pins him, gives him what he wants; but when she's there, with him locked safe inside, he can't help but push. Just a little bit.

'You are...the most...beautiful...'

It chokes off, which is probably good, as it saves him from saying anything embarrassingly girly. But he doesn't care. He takes her hands in his, and interlocks their fingers, using his heels to rock up into her, slow, so slow. But he keeps her at half an arm's length so he can see her face, and watch her body.

She grips his hands tight, the wash of emotion so powerful, she has to close her eyes or it will overwhelm her. Her smile is tinged with a sadness.

'Careful. I'll start, oh, thinking you, like me or something.'

'Wouldn'...want that.'

He lifts his shoulders off the bed when she closes her eyes, easing her near enough to kiss. Just a short one, his fingers tight around hers.

She kisses him back, a full-throated moan on her lips as the angle changes. Her hips curl, sliding along his length, returning to rest against him, pressing him deep, finding the rhythm. Slow enough to linger, strong enough to keep them on a lazy spiral of rising heat.

She studies his face, her own expression bare and vulnerable. He knows all her fears, all her hopes, all her desires. He knows everything, and even with the truth between them now, she still doesn't know him, not as well as she'd like to. Another breath, and she can't help but bend and steal another kiss, quick like his own, but soft. A quiet expression of the currents running under her skin.

As ever, the way she examines him makes his gaze move away, because he doesn't like feeling exposed. Particularly now. But he's not trying to pull away from her; the opposite, if anything, rising to meet her, loving the feel of her clenched tight around his length.

But it's OK, to his mind. She's giving him plenty of other stuff to look at, and his breath huffs out again at the sight of her breasts hanging over him, the flat stomach and curve of her hips. He'd touch, but he likes the weight of her resting against his hands. And he's torn, because he's throbbing with want inside her, but he doesn't want this to be over.

She follows his gaze, and rises up to sitting. Her eyes flutter closed and she can't help but swirl her hips, her lips parting at the wash of heat. She rocks, forward and back, letting the motion travel up her spine, riding him properly now.

Her nerves sizzle with pleasure, sending tingles down the insides of her thighs and up her spine, fizzing out the top of her head like champagne.

He tries to grin at the sight of her, but fails because he's breathing too hard. His eyes flick between her face and her tits, because they're both amazing and he can't pick just one to watch. He's mentally willing her to go faster, and also slow down, torn between two desires; in the end, it doesn't matter. She's driving him out of his mind, inch by inch, and she can take her time if that's what she wants. The pieces of him will be around to pick up after.

'Gonna come for me again, Alex?'

Her hands flex in his grip, opening to enjoy the sensation of his palms pressed against hers before interlacing their fingers again. She can't get enough of touching him, and it feels like she never will. Her thighs grip his hips tight, and she can feel the strands drawing together, twisting tighter at the sound of his voice. Her own words are languid and dark, filled with promise.

'As many times as you like, love.'

Her words bring a surprised grunt, a flash of arousal, and a quick thrust up into her that he gives without thinking. Because the idea that she could just keep going if he made her is impossibly erotic - so much so, he's pretty sure he's not going to last to fulfil it.

'Bloody orgasm machine.'

It's not fair. But he still wants to enjoy every one of them with her. And he's asking for more now, setting a faster rhythm by pressing up into her, squeezing her fingers tight.

She matches his pace, panting shamelessly as the pleasure sweeps up through her torso, making her spine arch and her head fall back.

All thought falls away, her mind going quiet as her body takes over, knowing what she needs. Her hips curl into his thrusts, so they meet just so. It's glorious, slick and hot, that sweet pressure right where she needs it.

'Gene...'

She's so close, trying hard to keep from tipping over that edge, but he keeps going, and it's no use trying to resist.

He keeps going, yes - harder, faster. He can see she's nearly there, and he's got no interest in holding back. All he wants in the world right now is to see her come. He wants it so much, it takes his mind off his own pleasure, and the way it's all drawing into his centre. He can ignore it for this.

'C'mon, sweet'eart, c'mon...'

White heat pools low in her belly, and her rhythm falters, her body jerking as it reaches critical mass. She grimaces in ecstasy, whispering a quiet stream of blasphemies that dissolve into incoherent syllables.

Her knuckles go white, holding tight to him and letting him take the fullness of her weight. Another wave sweeps up through her torso, and she curls, bucking like a marionette with her strings tangled, her body clenching tight as she rides him through to the very end.

He breathes hard through his mouth, watching her, feeling her clench him tight at every point of contact. It's like she's using every part of him to make herself feel good, and the notion lights him up from within, a spark to the fuse. But he grits his teeth and forces it to slow, because he wants to watch every second of this.

It leaves him taut, though; shaking slightly by the time she starts to come back down, vibrating with need. When it looks like she's slowing, he pushes up so he's sitting, and releases her hands so he can wrap his arms around her back and kiss her neck.

He'll finish in a minute. It's nice to be able to savour this, and taste the sweat on her skin as he anticipates his own end.

'OK?'

He wraps her up in his arms and she curls around him, burying her nose in his hair, nodding and gasping for breath. 'Don't let go.' Her hands pull him close. She always needs him close after, like he's the only thing in the world that can keep her safe. It feels like that, anyway.

She's keenly aware of everywhere he's touching her now. His skin feels hot against her own, after the cool of the room. And he's still hard inside her, making it easy to keep moving, chasing the fading wave and tasting the promise of another, if he asks it of her. But that's a distant concern right now. All she can think about is how good it feels to be wrapped up in him, to breathe him in and feel his heart beating under her hands.

She pulls back just enough to seek out his mouth with her own, a tender, breathless kiss, trying to share the wonder of the moment with him.

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