the_gene_genie | (no subject)

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alex

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He wastes no time in getting himself upstairs. He's only been dreaming of this kind of scenario for about three years now; he'd be lying if he tried to claim he weren't a bit nervous, but it's the good kind of nerves. He's definitely not going to let them stop him enjoying this.

Fifteen minutes, she said. That gives him time to have a quick wash and brush his teeth, and chuck a few glasses of Scotch down his throat. It crosses his mind that he might have time to give himself some relief before she gets here too, in the interests of making it last; he's in two minds though, and she'll be here any second. So he leaves it, and forces himself to go and sit on the sofa instead, and just wait.

He's never been the best at sitting still. She might think anticipation's the best part, but this is torture.

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She lets herself in, and closes the door behind her, leaning back against it and taking in his relaxed self.

She holds up a matte black bag, hanging from her finger by a bright red silk ribbon. Even in jeans and a jumper, she can cross a room like it's a catwalk.

She sets the bag on the table, and reaches out to snag his Scotch from his hand, taking a long drink to finish it.

He pulls his teeth across his lower lip as she walks towards him, and offers no resistance when she takes the glass. It gives him the opportunity to put his hands on her hips, and ease her a step closer.

'If we'd stayed down there any longer, you'd have got me in trouble.'

He has no embarrassment about sitting up here with a huge erection, that much is obvious. Bit different in the bar, though.

He pulls her closer and she settles down, straddling his lap, finishing off the last drop and setting the glass aside.

Her fingers brush through his hair, tucking it behind his ears.

"I think," she muses, looking down into those impossible blue eyes, "you're still in trouble. You just might enjoy this kind a bit more than the other."

'You might be right.'

He puts a hand first on her stomach, then slides it up underneath her blouse. If she's going to stop him touching in a minute, he wants to take every chance he has now. It comes to rest on one of her breasts, and he shifts under her, trying to keep things comfortable.

'I don't mind dealing with the consequences of your filthy mind when there's no one around to see.'

She leans into his touch, and her eyes fall closed for a moment. She's been careful not to touch that raging erection, as much as she might want to.

"I could make love to you right here on this sofa." Her thumb brushes over his lips, teasing herself as much as she is him.

"But then you'd never get to see what's in that bag over there. And I think, you really want to see what's in the bag over there."

'I think you're right.'

He still doesn't let go. His fingers are pulling the cup down as his lips press to her thumb, taking a handful of her beautiful soft tit.

'I think you could have me anywhere you want.'

He's pretty sure she knows that already.

"That's the problem," she says, teasing his lips apart so she can pet his tongue, her gaze fixed on his mouth.

"I want you everywhere."

Her other hand draws up to grasp his wrist, just holding onto him for the moment, not hindering his touch in the least.

"All the time."

He closes his lips around her thumb, holding her gaze as he sucks lightly on her thumb. He finds her nipple, teases it, thinks about sucking it and has to suppress a raw groan in the back of his throat.

'Let me make you come.'

He wants her. Christ, he wants her. It feels like he hasn't had her for a year.

'Now. Before you get changed.'

There's a hitch in her breath at that teasing touch, and her lips part, her pupils wide and her irises dark. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she swallows.

"On one condition," she whispers, her voice gone rough with arousal.

'Yeah?'

His free hand is already at her waist, looking for buttons and zips. He can't imagine having to wait much longer for what he wants.

She stills his grasping hand, and takes the one at her breast, drawing them both back to her waist with a firm touch. She's so close, she rests her forehead against his, breathing his breath.

"You first."

She reaches down between them and slowly undoes the button on his trousers.

'...OK.'

OK. He can handle that. It'll be better, even. He'll be able to sit still later. So he holds her waist and keeps himself still, letting her release him. He doesn't watch what she's doing; he's looking at her mouth instead, and when he can't help it any more, he kisses her. Long, and warm, and soft, and his fingers stroke the skin above her waistband.

His kiss always goes straight through her. After so many years of wanting just this, this simple connection, this simple touch, being able to melt into him like this, it blows her away. She moans against his mouth, tasting Scotch and cigarettes, and him. It still amazes her, how a simple kiss can feel so good.

Her hands slip beneath the layers of fabric, one curling around his shaft, the other delving down to cup his bollocks, petting over velvet skin and heated iron. She gathers up his foreskin and starts to move, knowing just how to take him, knowing just what he needs.

Edited 2013-11-29 01:14 (UTC)

He moans too, and visibly sags as pleasure eases through him. Her touch is a relief, of course, but it's the connection that gets him every time. This all still feels so new; he still can't believe he got this lucky. Can't believe he hasn't messed it up yet, either; there's always time for that though, so he thanks his lucky stars every time she lets him take her clothes off.

'Christ, luv...' His eyes close, and he lets the rhythm draw over him. His hands are not still though, still looking for a way into her clothes.

'Where's the...how do I get these off?'

Her grip tightens on him, not enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention. She nips at his mouth.

"You. First." There's a hint of command in her voice this time, which might be lost underneath the growl of hunger.

He sucks his breath in, and pushes into her hand without thinking. He hasn't seen her this forceful before. As may be obvious, he likes it. Quite a lot.

'You gonna be this bossy all night?'

His hand drops away from her, and he circles the tip of his cock with a lazy finger. It makes his jaw tighten, if she's looking.

'I could get used to it.'

She sees it, and it makes her moan under her breath. Her knees grip his thighs, and she matches her rhythm to his touch. Stroking from root to tip, rolling and squeezing his bollocks, everything focused, intent on taking his breath away.

"I should make you do it yourself," she whispers, swiping another hot kiss across his mouth.

He cries out quietly, almost silent; his knees spread against the pressure of her grip, and he thrusts up into both their touches.

'Will, if you want.'

He needs to get off. And she's seen worse things about him than his hand rubbing his cock. His head drops back against the cushions, and rolls to the side. His eyes close, so he can concentrate on the pleasure. He's pushing for it now, rigid against her palm.

'Harder, luv.'

She bends forward, resting her temple against his jaw, painting hot kisses down his throat, seeking out that one little spot she knows makes him light up for her.

"Who's the bossy one, now?" She pulls away just enough, her hands squeezing and stroking, before gently urging his own hand down the shaft. The transition is gradual, letting him take over, bit by bit.

When he's taken himself in hand, she sits up just enough, and strips off her blouse. The bra follows, thrown aside carelessly. And then she's back, her hands resting lightly on the backs of his, needing that connection even for this simple opening act.

She wants to watch, but it's impossible to keep her hands off him.

Edited 2013-11-29 04:19 (UTC)

He doesn't want her hands off him. As soon as she's finished with her clothes, he takes one and presses it back down to his balls; his right hand works his cock in a strong rhythm, which leaves the other one free to grope her tits. He doesn't hurry, not yet, because she's just given him the perfect view and wants a moment to savour it.

Her right hand follows his at her breast, and she leans into his touch. Her other hand cups and fondles him, fingertips delving into secret places, determined to light him up.

There's still too much space between them, and she grips harder with her knees, her own hips already rocking in time to his motions. She can't help it.

"Like what you see?"

'Don't I always?'

He bends his head to let his mouth play across her breasts, because he can't keep away from them, ever. His hand moves faster, the side of one finger twisting off the sensitive patch under the head on each downstroke, making his eyes fall shut in pleasure. His lips close on a nipple and he groans hard, trying his best to get her closer, somehow.

'...Christ. Nearly done.'

She wraps her arm around his neck, burying her nose in his hair, just holding him close. His lips find their mark and she whimpers, a shiver of pleasure going down her spine. Her left hand moves in counterpoint with his, and she can't resist. She takes over again, easing his hand away, clever fingers firm on the sensitive head.

"Let me," she breathes.

His mouth trails up her chest, breath coming hard and hot on her skin as it moves to her neck, along her jaw, eventually pressing to her lips. He lets her move his hands away and runs them up her back instead, thrusting into her touch as best he can. It's uncoordinated, and more than a bit desperate, but he feels good enough that it doesn't matter.

'More...'

She's just as desperate, trying to stay close, to kiss him and still keep time. Her touch grows more insistent, and she kisses him back, hard and hungry. Both hands work on him, quick and intent, making demands of his body.

"Come for me. Gene."