Blacktop wrote a gorgeous remix of this, "Far Horizons."
This story owes its existence to accidental reverse psychology.
It surprises her just how much she feels a loss of control right now. Maybe because it was his suggestion this time; their other two... trysts? encounters? were her idea. Or maybe it's because they're in a large loft apartment where he clearly spends part of his time, instead of an anonymous hotel or uninhabited safe house. His territory, not a neutral zone.
Or maybe it's because John is kissing her like this is all he ever wanted to do, his lips claiming hers, making her feel like a giddy teenager with her first boyfriend, too uncertain to push for anything herself.
John let her have total control the two previous times. His version of chivalry, perhaps, or he likes it when someone else is in charge. Or because he understood that she wanted something that she could direct. (After Beecher she didn't want to be managed. Didn't want anyone to decide for her or press her for more.)
She never said no to kissing the other times. Instead she skipped past it. It felt safer that way. Six weeks ago, urgency drove them both; everything was a blur that first time. Now John has her straddling his lap on his leather couch. Joss has managed to get his white dress shirt off, but his t-shirt is still in the way. His hair isn't in its usual slicked-back shape, letting her see that he has a cowlick. It's disturbingly adorable.
And this is why she hasn't tried to wrest control back from him tonight; she's fascinated by this new side of him. Carter sees his calm mask a lot, covering up more rage than she wants to know about, but he's never truly relaxed. It's compelling, watching him while he's concentrating on something so simple.
She finds herself imagining John in his various lives: the man he is now, in all his brokenness; the man who once loved and left a woman named Jessica...
The boy he was before all of that, who probably drove his girlfriends crazy with his patient exploration.
"I didn't realize I was signing up for just a make-out session," she finally manages to say. The breathless sound of her voice takes away the sharpness she intended.
"Good things come to those who wait," he tells her, his voice serious but his look teasing. A moment later he admits, "I've thought about this for a long time."
Joss can see the curve of his lashes as he looks down for a moment, reminding her again of the boy he once was.
He looks up again, a mischievous flash in his eyes warning her before he moves, grabbing her ass and picking her up with him as he stands. She holds onto his shoulders and wraps her legs tightly around his hips, appreciating the pressure against her sensitized skin.
It's a good thing that the bed isn't far. She has plans for his body, and they don't include a pulled muscle. When they get there, he places her carefully in the middle, then lies down to her left, his left leg between hers. John doesn't put much weight on her; instead he leans over her, propping himself on his right arm and using his left hand to draw a line from the corner of her eye to her cheekbones, gently rubbing his thumb under the bone.
She responds in kind, lifting her hand and tracing a line from his cheekbone to the curve of his lips. They're swollen from the kissing, reddened and wet. John licks the pad of her finger, then pulls it into his mouth and sucks on it.
After that he starts kissing her once more, slowly licking his way into her mouth again and then nipping at her lower lip. More detailed attention, but it's not the action she's impatient for.
His erection is pressed against her hip, and she wants more right now. Joss pushes slightly, bending her knee upward and to the left, sliding her leg under his until he's between her legs, and they're pressed stomach to stomach, hips to hips.
She rocks her hips upward, and there. After so much restraint, the friction and pressure are a relief.
John grins at her, the smallest twitch at his mouth signifying his amusement. "In a hurry?" he asks. In response, she grips his hips with her thighs, letting out a growl of satisfaction because the angle is just right.
He leans in and kisses her again, his tongue thrusting in, mimicking the faster movements of their bodies now rocking together. Been a long time since I've done this, she thinks before letting out another groan. Never too old for dry humping, apparently. Joss can't remember the last time she felt this desperate for sex while still fully clothed.
She reaches between their bodies, fingers trailing under the hem of his tee-shirt, lightly scraping her fingernails across his stomach. His muscles contract there and his eyelashes flutter against her cheek.
Still bracing himself with his right arm, he slides his left hand down, pushing past the waistband of her trousers. Joss watches as he struggles with the angle. Positioned directly over her makes it hard to maneuver his longer arms, so he quickly shifts to her left again.
He's capable with both hands, but she's glad it's his left hand that's free when he easily unbuttons and unzips her pants. His long fingers push under her panties and he begins stroking her, fingers soon slick with the evidence of her desire.
Joss trembles as his fingertips weave patterns, amazed at how ready she is for this. Maybe she's already gotten too used to this from him, she thinks. Too willing to open up.
It turns her on more to see him watching her reactions, his glance tracing the movements of her hands as they first grasp the sheet, then shift to his shoulder as he looms over her. His eyes glitter in the half-light, face taut with concentration.
His fingers twist and she's close, so close, letting out a string of one-syllable words. "Good. Yes. Please." Her eyelids drift closed, even though she wants to see his face.
John leans closer and scrapes his teeth gently across her neck, sending her over the edge with a keening wail.
He relaxes his right arm, letting some of his weight fall onto her: her left shoulder, hip, and thigh. After a few moments of quiet, Joss opens her eyes again, turning her head left. His face is right next to hers, almost a blur in this proximity.
She can see something in his expression: affection, maybe. Fondness. He's heavy against her left side, but it isn't uncomfortable yet. His erection is pressed against her hip again, though he's not rushing to unzip his pants. She'll do something about that momentarily - after recovering from this.
His breath warms her neck. "You're beautiful," he tells her.
It scares her. Joss tries not to indulge in what-ifs and might-have-beens, but she's known this for a while: she could have fallen in love with the man he'd been before. She doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to acknowledge all of the pieces she can still see of that man in him now.
Joss deflects the compliment with a half-smile, not saying anything. Instead she kisses him gently one more time and then pushes those thoughts away, her hand reaching down to undo his trousers.