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'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...'

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.'

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