I'm ba-ack!! This is definitely MA rated... under age of consent, or just not into that? You've been forewarned!
Thanks and enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Super-mega-thanks to TemperTemper for her supreme beta prowess, patience, understanding and overall fab-ness. And many thanks to Willi for the prelim read and concrit. This isn't as easy as lots of people make it look, so thanks for helping me not to freak out!! Check out the Anti-Boneyard (link in my profile)!
He asks her to meet him and miraculously, she agrees. Not only that, she actually shows up. The Amazonian exhibit. He didn't really care where, as long as she was there and he could touch her.
His hand at the small of her back, he leads her covertly (he was a Ranger, after all) to a small, dark alcove where he forcefully pushes her against the wall and attacks her lips with his… relentlessly, tongue plunging, not requesting permission but demanding it.
And she answers, no less forcefully, hungrily granting him entrance and allowing her own tongue to slide wetly against his. His hands move into her hair, releasing the clasp binding the strands in place. It rattles to the floor as it slips from his trembling fingers, the tresses falling to soften the angles of her flushed face and curl along the tops of her shoulders. The knowledge that they don't have much time, that they could be discovered at any moment, only serves to spur them on.
Fingertips explore, lips savor; breathing isn't a necessity. Her hands move under his suit jacket, roaming the hard planes and muscles of his back. He laves the curve of her ear with his tongue as she quickly reaches up to tug the dangling earrings from their holes and stuff them in her pocket. His tongue flicks her lobe and then he sucks the soft flesh between his teeth. The sound of footsteps approaching breaks through the cloud of passion in his head and he knows they need more privacy…
He trails rugged, biting kisses down her neck and her head falls back against the glass window, already fogging with their exertions. He encounters the thick cording and chunky beads of her necklace and reaches behind her neck to unclasp it. Fingers fumble, his frustration increases and with a snap, beads fly into the hard plastic of the dashboard and litter the footwells. He curses and she laughs until she feels his searching lips and tongue again, as he continues to follow the line of her V-neck tank to its focus.
He can't get close enough to her. The confines of the small space restrict his movements and he is frustrated beyond belief with not being able to touch every inch of her. Her hands are grasping at him, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders. He braces one hand against the window by her head, leaving a clear outline of his palm and fingertips on the moist pane, and shrugs his jacket off the other shoulder. She helps him remove it and tosses it towards the back seat.
Her hand comes up to the back of his head and drags him back to her swollen lips, her tongue penetrating and curling with his… she wants this as much as he does. Her other hand reaches down to cup him through his pants, his erection straining to the point of pure agony. He groans and pulls her shirt out from the waistband of her pants, his fingers trailing up her rapidly expanding and contracting ribcage. Still not enough.
With a growl, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her across the console to straddle his hips. There's just not enough room for all that he wants to do with her…
She comes willingly and her knees slide onto the soft cushions of the couch and she sinks, into him, onto him, the rigid outline of his cock pressing along the seam of her slacks and he can almost see the frissons of pleasure shoot through her overheated body.
His hands roam up the smooth planes of her back, into the tendrils of her hair and bring her lips tenderly, gently to his; reminiscent of a first kiss, sweetly, leisurely brushing his tongue along the outline of her lips until she parts them and takes him into her sweet mouth. He notes the flavor of the wine she has just consumed, but the aftertaste is all Bones, his choice of indulgence.
His fingertips glide over her shoulders, slowly tracing patterns, playing connect-the-dots with the freckles and moles he discovers along the way. He grasps her slender wrists, bringing first one and then the other to his mouth, tenderly kissing the points where her blood rapidly flows. She twists her hands around to grasp his and moves to unbutton the sleeves of his dress shirt. She places a lingering kiss on the tattoos she finds underneath. Gazing intently at them, she traces the dark outlines, first with her fingernail, following with her tongue. He watches her, mesmerized. He wants this moment to last forever.
As if reading his mind, she smiles and grinds her thighs down into his hips, increasing the pressure where they want it most, and thoughts of lasting forever seem to disappear into the ether. With a groan of pleasure, he grabs her ass with both hands and stands, her long legs wrapping around his waist. She kisses down the cords of his neck and begins unbuttoning his dress shirt with the hand not tangled in his hair.
As he moves them past obstacles and down the hallway, her hand gains entrance and smoothes across his chest, tracing the lines of his pectorals and stroking the light dusting of hair. He stops and presses her against the wall with his hips, breathing hard, suddenly needing to feel all of her against him. Her legs drop to support her while his hands move to peel her tank up over her head and drop it to the floor. The corridor seems instantly heavy with their heat, suddenly stifling. A bead of sweat runs from his neckline down his back. Fresh air would be good right about now…
He hears her sharp intake of breath as the rough bricks bite into her back, the overhead lamplight exposing alabaster skin to his hungry eyes… hands… lips. He immediately seeks and finds her breasts, her chest heaving, his hands along for the ride. His thumbs stroke both nipples simultaneously through the cloth barrier of her bra. Her breath hitches and she moans, the sound moving straight down to his groin, his cock twitching in response. He moves to unclasp the convenient front closure and rid her of the confining garment.
The vision of her, breathless for him, in the dim light, is almost his undoing. He looks deep into her eyes and sees a tumult of emotions – desire, frustration, pleasure, a tinge of fear – none of which are asking him to stop. Quite the contrary.
This fills him with a heady pleasure and he knows a mischievous grin appears on his lips. His eyes flick down to her breasts, then back to her eyes, then back to her breasts again. All the while, his hands have been trailing down her sides to trace the waistband of her pants, only to rise again to lightly tease just below her breasts.
She grips his biceps and through his cotton shirt he can feel her (rationally) short nails digging into his flesh. He hears her sigh and knows she's getting ready to tell him what a teasing bastard he is. Just as her lips purse to form the words, he cups her breast firmly in his hand and dips his head allowing his hungry mouth to latch upon her dark nipple.
She cries out just as the skies open and a steady rain begins to fall. What first is welcome upon their too warm skin soon becomes numbing as the cold begins to penetrate his senses and he wishes it were a warm summer shower instead…
She pulls his damp shirt down his shoulders, letting it puddle on the tiled floor, and grabs for his belt with trembling fingers. The cadence of the falling water settles upon ears deafened by their own heartbeats, the sound pounding through them both. An unspoken mutual decision, necessity demands familiarity, and they both remove their own pants… knowledge of their own clothing makes it faster.
He sees her eyes widen in surprise as he is standing completely naked before her, his erection reaching towards her belly. His hands instinctively reach for her hips, pulling her towards him while simultaneously sliding under the strings of her bikini and pulling them downward, releasing them at her knees to fall to the plush mat underneath their feet.
His mouth falls upon hers once more and he pulls her towards the cascading water, steaming hot and seeming to sizzle against their overly sensitized skin. Their bodies rub together wetly, he grips her ass and pulls her into him, his erection nestling between her thighs.
She grips her legs together, holding his length against her center, and he rests his forehead against hers with a groan. Involuntarily, he thrusts into the slick cavern she has made for him. It is almost too much. He pushes her against the cold porcelain of the wall, kissing down her neck, sucking the rivulets of water sliding across her milky skin. He wants to drink her in, sink into her, allowing them to finally stop their circling and become one…
Her head falls back against the soft pillows and she moans as his lips firmly clasp on a swollen nipple. Her thighs rub together restlessly, betraying to him where she wants his attentions most. He kisses down her belly, and it ripples with anticipation, his fingers leading the way through her soft auburn curls and dipping into her warm depths. She arches off the bed and his tongue simultaneously dips and penetrates her navel, in time with his finger working in and out of her moist heat.
His mouth moves down to trace her hip with his tongue, grazing the bone with his teeth. That simple action has her raising off the bed and huskily laughing, reaching for him. He looks up into her eyes, full of desire and what looks to be pure joy. Joy. For him. He is stunned into stillness by this woman – clinical and detached in one moment, so sensual and surprising in the next.
He smiles fully and turns back to task. Then the only sounds are the suckling of his lips and tongue against her clit and her breathless panting, urging him on. Her hips raise towards his face, every time his fingers move deeper within her.
His other hand presses lightly on her abdomen, kneading the soft muscles there, then moves up to pinch each nipple and massage lightly to soothe away the discomfort that he just caused. His tongue laps the length of her lower lips, dipping into her center and then rising to circle her clit… over and over. She is bucking harder into his mouth and he moves both hands to grab her hips; a futile attempt to still her against the frenzied ministrations of his lips and tongue.
She grips his hair and tugs him towards her mouth. He complies, needing to feel her wrapped around him, and soon. Their tongues duel once again and he can still taste her juices on his, mingling now with the sweetness of her mouth. His hands move into her hair, angling her head to kiss her more fully; he can't get enough of this woman, his partner.
Her hand moves between them to grasp his cock firmly, giving him two quick strokes as she brings the head to her entrance. They both gasp at the contact. She rubs him through her wetness and strokes his head up to her clit and back down again, and again, her breath hitching each time he slides across her sensitive nub.
This is where, if he admits to himself, he has been all along; and where he has longed to be. In the palm of her hot, little hand. All the bickering, all the knowing glances, all the denial… it has all led to this.
Positioning him at her entrance, she removes her hand and looks up at him, granting him permission, telling him with her eyes what it is she wants. He nods imperceptibly, licks his suddenly parched lips, and pushes himself into her slowly, just the tip of his cock penetrating her outer muscles. The intensity of this initial joining has his head spinning, his mind wondering just how it could possibly get any better, while his other head pulses with pleasure and the overwhelming need to thrust into her and claim her as his own…
She moans and her eyes close, her head tipping back over the side of the table, her hair falling to hang below. He pulls his upper body back, his feet firmly planted on the floor, and grasps her hips. Thrusting deeply, they both cry out as he fills her completely.
He withdraws slowly, only to thrust into her again quickly. His right hand moves to knead her breast and trail down her stomach to where they are joined. His thumb flicks over her clit and she shudders and raises up, her elbows propping on the table top, her legs rising to wrap around his waist.
She lowers her knees, opening herself wider, and digs her heels into his ass, pulling him deeper, and he cries out in surprise. She keeps a tight grip around his waist with her legs, effectively grinding his pubic bone into her clit. He leans over and runs his tongue along her cleavage and then laves each nipple while he rotates his hips and stimulates her even further.
She surprises him by releasing her grip on him with her legs and pushing him back to sit in one of the straight-back dining chairs. She immediately follows, hovering above him, straddling his legs and dropping back onto him in one smooth stroke. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to control himself, his hands stilling her hips as she tries to rise off him and plunge down again. His toes are curling with the pleasure and the effort to not have this be over too soon.
Before he can utter a word, she encases his face with her hands, smoothing over the stubble of his jawline. She looks deep into his eyes and he sees everything he ever needed to know in that moment. Like the opposing poles of magnets, their eyes lock and she begins to move upon him, slowly at first, the heat building rapidly between them.
His hands are everywhere; in her hair, on her hips, trailing down her long legs and back up to her clit. He links his feet around the front chair legs, giving himself more leverage and thrusts up to meet her every downward stroke. She grabs the back of the chair, throwing her head back and he feels the pulsating of her body, seeming to radiate from her center as she allows the pleasure to overtake her. Gripping her shoulders, he pulls her towards him, locking his mouth upon hers as he thrusts deep within her, letting her waves of sensation draw his own release.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Is it possible to be envious of your own penis? Piss and pleasure. No awkward afterwards. No weighty proclamations. No grand revelations. Engage. Disengage. Not a bad deal.
Maybe that's why he's been content for so long with these visions of her in his head. With playing these images in his minds-eye while stroking himself. With her name on his lips as he comes in his own hand.
But he knows the time is coming, and soon, when it will no longer be enough.
When the separate creatures, can no longer continue to circle; can no longer continue to ignore that real connection, and must finally give in.
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