Anniversary
Jun. 10th, 2003 04:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
itsallovernowStrangely enough, a year ago exactly - though it may not have been the same date, it was definitely the same time of year because I was going to the same annual event I went to today - I read an article in the paper about the Season 4 opener. I was so giddy and excited, and truthfully, I think the fact that Farscape isn't coming back still hasn't hit me yet. We could technically be on hiatus, and now I feel very sad over that.
In other news, for all the new viewers, this week is a great run of eps, obviously starting with Different Desitinations on Sunday, Eat Me, Thanks for Sharing, Green Eyed Monster and Losing Time. All of which I will talk about when I get back from vacation on Monday.
I made it back to Krav Maga last night, and was correct, it was like I'd never hit anything before. That's somewhat of an exaggeration, and I always loll a little in Level 1, but I'm glad that I made the effort before my vacation which will undoubtedly involve copious eating and drinking, and since we're going to be staying at someone's house, probably means running since my mom is still supposed to be mostless slow and plodding, despite the fact that she's content to ignore the MD's advice. I hate to run, hate it hate it. But, I hate my ever expanding ass even more.
Oh, and my Latin student got a B in his class. This really is a minor miracle, and I am thankful to any deities that were instrumental in this, even if the deity is his 90 year old Latin teacher who adores him.
Part Two of Undertones is done, and yes it is mostly porn. Which means it probably isn't really done. Again, NC-17, continues where Part 1 left off, severly rough draft format, but I wanted to finish and post the rough draft before I left and chickened out. I will take the whole thing together, strip it down, rework it and officially post it again once I get back, but here we are for now. Now that I finished it, I know what I want it to do and it's not quite there, but it's a start.
Undertones, Part II
He’d planned the whole thing. Going down to the planet, having to stay to find parts, the coming storm wiping out communications, getting some time alone with Aeryn. He’d planned and plotted and consulted with Pilot, the universe’s strangest Yenta, and had him make secret arrangements at one of the inns. It had helped him keep his mind off of her, off of the lakka, allowed him to sink back into the wall of disappointment and resignation and paranoia that he’d been living behind since Scorpy joined them for this never ending slumber party. He was comfortable there, years of sublimating his urges making the continued separation from Aeryn less difficult than he’d expected.
However, what he hadn’t planned on were six plug uglies trying to shake them down on their way to Hotel California. He hadn’t counted on the clench of terror around his throat and lungs at the risk of Aeryn being harmed before a little restitution could be made between them, and damn, he had certainly not counted on Aeryn Sun, love of his life, potential mother of his child, ex-PK and general bad ass going down on him in an alley after a near death experience.
He figured that the fact that he’d never been so turned on in his life was just a given. And he never could have, would have, should have, planned for the look on her face when she was finished, the secretive smile, the irate glare disappearing into a cat with cream, predatory, possessive look that made him gulp against it, filling him with such tenderness for her that he could barely control his urge to sweep her up, dash her over the threshold.
He could taste himself in her mouth, the unique flavor of her riding under the salt and cream, and found himself hardening again. He’d be damned, though, if they were going to do any more naked mamboing in public. He hadn’t touched this woman intimately for years, someone else’s lifetime ago, and while the disturbing double memories hinted at the places on her body that would make them both sing and dance, he wanted his own shot at discovery. So he pulled away from her with great reluctance, suggesting that they find the hotel. She didn’t question him, just turned and indicated that she’d follow.
They checked into the hotel in silence, receiving a pass code and some suggestions for refreshment, and then the door shut and they were alone.
His nerves were shrieking like rocked on cats, high and keening. This was it. Real reconciliation. More than tender, teary confessions in a golden hallway, this was his chance to apologize, to beg, to receive her ablutions and find some sort of peace between them. He was suddenly more terrified than he’d been in his life, more than the chair, more than the twinning, frell more than Grayza, he thought to himself as his stomach lurched at the sense memory. Aeryn held his heart, could hear it beat through time and space, could close her fingers around it, stopping it forever. She was hardly renowned for her gentleness, and he didn’t know if he trusted her to get things right, but they had to start somewhere.
He cleared his throat as they stood in the middle of the room, knees and elbows and awkwardness and not knowing what to say. She was as beautiful and mysterious as ever, her cheeks flushed from the firefight and the fellatio. John felt his lips curve up at the word, high-fiving his inner 16 year old. The hottest girl in the universe had just sucked him off in public, and pain, secrets, mad scientists and critters were never going to dull that memory.
She looked at him suspiciously, but clearly still pleased with herself. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said and stretched his mouth into a full fledged grin.
“Hmph,” she snorted, and turned, looking around the room, shrugging off her coat and laying it carefully over a chair. The bed was high and prominent, a central feature of the room, the other being a window that overlooked the city, several stories below.
Aeryn prowled around the room, running her fingers over things lightly, taking it all in, waiting for him. Her energy was catlike, anticipatory. She was set on a course and was clearly waiting for him to catch up. He was reminded of the moment in the access shaft on the storm infested commerce station, her body pulled tightly against his, her offer of sex and the internal war he’d waged over rejecting it. She’d never been petty or coy about physical pleasure, only scared of the emotional ramifications, and now it seemed that even those fears had once again been laid aside.
Or maybe they’d just been transferred to him, he thought, and was seized with a sort of paralysis that he’d never known before, unable to move towards her, take her in his arms and make love to her. His chest constricted at the though of consummating this new relationship with her.
She’d loved him for a very long time, loved his twin more fully than he’d ever thought possible, and now had claimed him completely. But he was still stuck. He hated being at this disadvantage, physical and emotional. She had worked him in that alley like he’d never been worked, the orgasm coming so quickly that he felt like a teenager again, and now it sort of pissed him off. He wanted his chance. He wanted her at his mercy, just a little. He was also starting to feel somewhat schizophrenic at this pingpong of feelings and reactions.
She stopped pacing, and turned again to him, tilting her head a little and looking at him intently.
“I love you,” she said, her voice soft and low, full of acceptance and not a little wonderment.
“Yeah,” he forced out.
She pulled her lip under her top teeth, biting down gently and thoughtfully, looking a little hurt. Then she seemed to reach some sort of conclusion with herself. She nodded slightly, and stalked towards him, ignoring his sudden wariness.
Standing in front of him, she leaned over, undoing her boots, removing them and her socks and setting them aside. She stood up, cheeks pink, and unfastened her gunbelt, placing it next to her boots. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of her as she stood there, feet small and bare and vulnerable.
“Tell me what you’d like,” she said softly, and it clicked into place. She understood, his doubts and fears, his hesitations, maybe even knew about the yin yang memories of herself and his twin. She was letting him make this call.
He took a deep breath, licked his lips, and thought for a moment. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered softly, “slowly.”
She obliged, reaching for the edge of the black material and, inch by inch, raised it up, exposing the white of her belly, the lines of her ribs, her full breasts and finally stretched the shirt over her head, lifting her breasts and highlighting the lovely interaction of muscle and skin and curve that was her torso. She dropped her arms, releasing the cloth and waited for him.
“Now your pants,” his voice felt raw, overused.
Her nimble fingers undid the clasp and zipper. She eased the leather off her long legs, bending slightly at the waist, causing her breasts to sway and his breath to catch. Her nipples hardened under the force of his gaze and she continued to wear that enigmatic look. She kicked the pants aside and stood there clad in the small black briefs and the shining weight of her hair. She was as calm and centered as he’d ever seen her, an almost military stillness in her bearing.
He allowed himself to gawk, delaying the climax of this striptease. Her milky skin, flushed with desire, was enough of a turn on. He barely felt the need for more, and yet the realization that more was his for the taking hit him suddenly, a punch to the gut. He was sweating in the coat and gloves, but absurdly welcomed the barrier against her confidence. He was also growing harder by the second, his pants tight and constricting, so he permitted himself the final pleasure.
“Your underwear,” he said, trying to make it a command, but hearing the words escape as more of a supplication. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed down, exposing herself completely to his eyes. Her dark, matted curls glistened with her own longing for him, sharply contrasting with the whiteness of her skin. She was his own dark Lady Godiva, hair wrapped around her body and he fought back a moan. She remained at ease, but her chest was rising and falling more rapidly now.
He walked around her, circling, reminding himself vaguely of a man examining a show horse, and displeased with that analogy, he stepped up behind her, breathing in her scent and moving the mass of her hair off the side of her neck. He rubbed his cheek against the juncture of her shoulder and neck, hearing a slight scritch as his cheek scraped along her flesh, and then kissed her there, letting his tongue take in her salty sweetness. She tilted her head to the side to meet him and he pressed himself into her back, the firm tautness of her ass pressing against his cock in delicious torture.
He took one last second to be grateful that he was having this experience alone in his head before turning all of his attention to the woman in front of him.
Cupping her breasts in his hands, he relished the weight of them, the fullness and his ability to do this. He twisted the nipples gently, feeling her tiny noises of satisfaction echo against him. He had craved the warmth of her skin for cycles, and savored it even through the gloves which stood in sharp relief to her pale body. She arched against him, driving her ass more firmly into his groin. He glided his hand down her stomach and beyond to hold her in his hand, palm pressed against her pubic bone, eliciting a small mewling cry as his fingers teased her lightly. He felt lightheaded, giddy and insane. He kissed her neck again, letting his tongue slid along the thin, delicate skin and then bit down, suckling, marking her, causing her to tremble slightly.
Slowly he released her, murmuring, “ Go and sit on the bed.”
She walked over to it hips swaying, but the slight tremors in her legs revealed that the fine edge of her control was slipping. She climbed onto the bed and turned, laying down on her side, emphasizing the feline comparisons and watched him intently. He realized by the smoky taste of leather that he was kneading his thumb between his teeth and he lowered his hands. Her eyes were almost black, glazed and barely focused with the strain of maintaining the stillness that she was giving him.
But he wasn’t ready for this to be finished quite yet. He had seen, had flashing glimpses of her initial sexual encounter with his twin. It was sweet and hard and loving give and take, and he wanted to burn the memory of them, here and now, onto her brain so there would no longer be any confusion between the two men.
He sat down on the side of the bed and traced his fingers over her, stroking along her arms, her belly and breasts, drawing a line down the long length of her thighs, caressing the back of her knees. His brain recorded her responses, the sounds and twitches and indrawn breaths, memorizing them and storing them away for further use until he finally came to rest on her hip. Aeryn touched his hand, glancing pointedly at the gloves and waited. He shook his head. If he touched her skin to skin, he’d lose control, be powerless against her. Instead, he smiled and pulled her wrists together with his other hand, raising them above her head.
He bent towards her, brushing her lips with his, and then pulled back a little. Echoing her earlier demand, he said quietly, “Keep your eyes open, if you can.”
He then hooked his free hand around her knee, angling it up, exposing her. He could look into her eyes, could simultaneously see her open and wet, moisture glistening along her thighs. He shifted against the pressure of his erection, almost unbearably uncomfortable now trapped in the leather pants, but he needed a little more time. He could barely control his own breathing at this point, was so hot and distracted that he wasn’t sure he could finish this task, but he had waited for her for so long that he knew he could master his own control for a few more precious microts.
John licked his lips, mouth watering at her scent, and glided his hand off her hip, slipping between her damp curls. He rubbed his gloved fingers over her clitoris, spreading the moisture around before sliding two fingers inside her. She gasped, but kept her eyes open and he smiled at her, pleased. He thrust inside her, slowly and forcefully, and then withdrew, coming back to circle over her clit again before plunging back in with three fingers. His grip on her wrist was tight and she strained against him. There would undoubtedly be bruises, but neither one of them was thinking that far ahead. All he could do was soak up the smell and feel of her, the contractions against his hand as he continued to drive into her, answering her thrusting hips, and then she came with a cry, yelling his name, and it was almost enough to send him over the edge.
He withdrew from her, releasing her wrists as she turned onto her back, panting. He rested his damp hand on her belly, noticed it was shaking and tried to regain a modicum of composure, unsure now of what to do. The decision was taken out of his hands, so to speak. Aeryn sat up taking his hand in both of hers, raising it to her mouth and stroking her tongue along over his fingers before moving to the exposed flesh of his wrist. She lightly licked the skin, then she bit him sharply. Her patience was obviously over.
“No more barriers,” she growled. “Take your clothes off now.”
He obeyed more quickly than he’d ever done anything in his life, pants and boots and shirt and belt flying off to land in a heap on his coat before he finally peeled off the gloves. Before he knew it, she had pulled him down onto the bed, rolled him over, straddled him and clasping his cock tightly in her hand, forced herself down onto him, eliciting simultaneously shouts from both of them.
He sat up quickly, locking his arms around her, digging his fingers into her hips, her skin burning through his palms, and met her thrust for thrust, their mouths battling, tongues tangling, genitals grinding. He could feel her orgasm as she groaned it into his mouth, felt the tight contractions around his cock, prayed a word of thanks to whatever deities were hanging around, and flipped them so she rested on the end of the bed, her legs locked around his waist, driving into her with a force and violence he wouldn’t have always considered himself capable of. The release built up from the center of his belly, a fiery explosion matched by his yell. He saw blackness swim over his vision and he collapsed on top of her, her legs curling around him, bodies entwined, both catching their breath, coming back into themselves.
A few minutes later, he levered himself off her, moving to allow her to climb out of the bed and pull back the covers. He caught her hand, turning her towards him, and took her face in his hands, moving his thumb along her cheekbones and resting his forehead against her. The musky scent of sex clung to them both, and he grinned at that.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“I love you “ she replied in that same low tone that she’d used before. “But don’t ever make me wait like that again.”
In other news, for all the new viewers, this week is a great run of eps, obviously starting with Different Desitinations on Sunday, Eat Me, Thanks for Sharing, Green Eyed Monster and Losing Time. All of which I will talk about when I get back from vacation on Monday.
I made it back to Krav Maga last night, and was correct, it was like I'd never hit anything before. That's somewhat of an exaggeration, and I always loll a little in Level 1, but I'm glad that I made the effort before my vacation which will undoubtedly involve copious eating and drinking, and since we're going to be staying at someone's house, probably means running since my mom is still supposed to be mostless slow and plodding, despite the fact that she's content to ignore the MD's advice. I hate to run, hate it hate it. But, I hate my ever expanding ass even more.
Oh, and my Latin student got a B in his class. This really is a minor miracle, and I am thankful to any deities that were instrumental in this, even if the deity is his 90 year old Latin teacher who adores him.
Part Two of Undertones is done, and yes it is mostly porn. Which means it probably isn't really done. Again, NC-17, continues where Part 1 left off, severly rough draft format, but I wanted to finish and post the rough draft before I left and chickened out. I will take the whole thing together, strip it down, rework it and officially post it again once I get back, but here we are for now. Now that I finished it, I know what I want it to do and it's not quite there, but it's a start.
Undertones, Part II
He’d planned the whole thing. Going down to the planet, having to stay to find parts, the coming storm wiping out communications, getting some time alone with Aeryn. He’d planned and plotted and consulted with Pilot, the universe’s strangest Yenta, and had him make secret arrangements at one of the inns. It had helped him keep his mind off of her, off of the lakka, allowed him to sink back into the wall of disappointment and resignation and paranoia that he’d been living behind since Scorpy joined them for this never ending slumber party. He was comfortable there, years of sublimating his urges making the continued separation from Aeryn less difficult than he’d expected.
However, what he hadn’t planned on were six plug uglies trying to shake them down on their way to Hotel California. He hadn’t counted on the clench of terror around his throat and lungs at the risk of Aeryn being harmed before a little restitution could be made between them, and damn, he had certainly not counted on Aeryn Sun, love of his life, potential mother of his child, ex-PK and general bad ass going down on him in an alley after a near death experience.
He figured that the fact that he’d never been so turned on in his life was just a given. And he never could have, would have, should have, planned for the look on her face when she was finished, the secretive smile, the irate glare disappearing into a cat with cream, predatory, possessive look that made him gulp against it, filling him with such tenderness for her that he could barely control his urge to sweep her up, dash her over the threshold.
He could taste himself in her mouth, the unique flavor of her riding under the salt and cream, and found himself hardening again. He’d be damned, though, if they were going to do any more naked mamboing in public. He hadn’t touched this woman intimately for years, someone else’s lifetime ago, and while the disturbing double memories hinted at the places on her body that would make them both sing and dance, he wanted his own shot at discovery. So he pulled away from her with great reluctance, suggesting that they find the hotel. She didn’t question him, just turned and indicated that she’d follow.
They checked into the hotel in silence, receiving a pass code and some suggestions for refreshment, and then the door shut and they were alone.
His nerves were shrieking like rocked on cats, high and keening. This was it. Real reconciliation. More than tender, teary confessions in a golden hallway, this was his chance to apologize, to beg, to receive her ablutions and find some sort of peace between them. He was suddenly more terrified than he’d been in his life, more than the chair, more than the twinning, frell more than Grayza, he thought to himself as his stomach lurched at the sense memory. Aeryn held his heart, could hear it beat through time and space, could close her fingers around it, stopping it forever. She was hardly renowned for her gentleness, and he didn’t know if he trusted her to get things right, but they had to start somewhere.
He cleared his throat as they stood in the middle of the room, knees and elbows and awkwardness and not knowing what to say. She was as beautiful and mysterious as ever, her cheeks flushed from the firefight and the fellatio. John felt his lips curve up at the word, high-fiving his inner 16 year old. The hottest girl in the universe had just sucked him off in public, and pain, secrets, mad scientists and critters were never going to dull that memory.
She looked at him suspiciously, but clearly still pleased with herself. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said and stretched his mouth into a full fledged grin.
“Hmph,” she snorted, and turned, looking around the room, shrugging off her coat and laying it carefully over a chair. The bed was high and prominent, a central feature of the room, the other being a window that overlooked the city, several stories below.
Aeryn prowled around the room, running her fingers over things lightly, taking it all in, waiting for him. Her energy was catlike, anticipatory. She was set on a course and was clearly waiting for him to catch up. He was reminded of the moment in the access shaft on the storm infested commerce station, her body pulled tightly against his, her offer of sex and the internal war he’d waged over rejecting it. She’d never been petty or coy about physical pleasure, only scared of the emotional ramifications, and now it seemed that even those fears had once again been laid aside.
Or maybe they’d just been transferred to him, he thought, and was seized with a sort of paralysis that he’d never known before, unable to move towards her, take her in his arms and make love to her. His chest constricted at the though of consummating this new relationship with her.
She’d loved him for a very long time, loved his twin more fully than he’d ever thought possible, and now had claimed him completely. But he was still stuck. He hated being at this disadvantage, physical and emotional. She had worked him in that alley like he’d never been worked, the orgasm coming so quickly that he felt like a teenager again, and now it sort of pissed him off. He wanted his chance. He wanted her at his mercy, just a little. He was also starting to feel somewhat schizophrenic at this pingpong of feelings and reactions.
She stopped pacing, and turned again to him, tilting her head a little and looking at him intently.
“I love you,” she said, her voice soft and low, full of acceptance and not a little wonderment.
“Yeah,” he forced out.
She pulled her lip under her top teeth, biting down gently and thoughtfully, looking a little hurt. Then she seemed to reach some sort of conclusion with herself. She nodded slightly, and stalked towards him, ignoring his sudden wariness.
Standing in front of him, she leaned over, undoing her boots, removing them and her socks and setting them aside. She stood up, cheeks pink, and unfastened her gunbelt, placing it next to her boots. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of her as she stood there, feet small and bare and vulnerable.
“Tell me what you’d like,” she said softly, and it clicked into place. She understood, his doubts and fears, his hesitations, maybe even knew about the yin yang memories of herself and his twin. She was letting him make this call.
He took a deep breath, licked his lips, and thought for a moment. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered softly, “slowly.”
She obliged, reaching for the edge of the black material and, inch by inch, raised it up, exposing the white of her belly, the lines of her ribs, her full breasts and finally stretched the shirt over her head, lifting her breasts and highlighting the lovely interaction of muscle and skin and curve that was her torso. She dropped her arms, releasing the cloth and waited for him.
“Now your pants,” his voice felt raw, overused.
Her nimble fingers undid the clasp and zipper. She eased the leather off her long legs, bending slightly at the waist, causing her breasts to sway and his breath to catch. Her nipples hardened under the force of his gaze and she continued to wear that enigmatic look. She kicked the pants aside and stood there clad in the small black briefs and the shining weight of her hair. She was as calm and centered as he’d ever seen her, an almost military stillness in her bearing.
He allowed himself to gawk, delaying the climax of this striptease. Her milky skin, flushed with desire, was enough of a turn on. He barely felt the need for more, and yet the realization that more was his for the taking hit him suddenly, a punch to the gut. He was sweating in the coat and gloves, but absurdly welcomed the barrier against her confidence. He was also growing harder by the second, his pants tight and constricting, so he permitted himself the final pleasure.
“Your underwear,” he said, trying to make it a command, but hearing the words escape as more of a supplication. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed down, exposing herself completely to his eyes. Her dark, matted curls glistened with her own longing for him, sharply contrasting with the whiteness of her skin. She was his own dark Lady Godiva, hair wrapped around her body and he fought back a moan. She remained at ease, but her chest was rising and falling more rapidly now.
He walked around her, circling, reminding himself vaguely of a man examining a show horse, and displeased with that analogy, he stepped up behind her, breathing in her scent and moving the mass of her hair off the side of her neck. He rubbed his cheek against the juncture of her shoulder and neck, hearing a slight scritch as his cheek scraped along her flesh, and then kissed her there, letting his tongue take in her salty sweetness. She tilted her head to the side to meet him and he pressed himself into her back, the firm tautness of her ass pressing against his cock in delicious torture.
He took one last second to be grateful that he was having this experience alone in his head before turning all of his attention to the woman in front of him.
Cupping her breasts in his hands, he relished the weight of them, the fullness and his ability to do this. He twisted the nipples gently, feeling her tiny noises of satisfaction echo against him. He had craved the warmth of her skin for cycles, and savored it even through the gloves which stood in sharp relief to her pale body. She arched against him, driving her ass more firmly into his groin. He glided his hand down her stomach and beyond to hold her in his hand, palm pressed against her pubic bone, eliciting a small mewling cry as his fingers teased her lightly. He felt lightheaded, giddy and insane. He kissed her neck again, letting his tongue slid along the thin, delicate skin and then bit down, suckling, marking her, causing her to tremble slightly.
Slowly he released her, murmuring, “ Go and sit on the bed.”
She walked over to it hips swaying, but the slight tremors in her legs revealed that the fine edge of her control was slipping. She climbed onto the bed and turned, laying down on her side, emphasizing the feline comparisons and watched him intently. He realized by the smoky taste of leather that he was kneading his thumb between his teeth and he lowered his hands. Her eyes were almost black, glazed and barely focused with the strain of maintaining the stillness that she was giving him.
But he wasn’t ready for this to be finished quite yet. He had seen, had flashing glimpses of her initial sexual encounter with his twin. It was sweet and hard and loving give and take, and he wanted to burn the memory of them, here and now, onto her brain so there would no longer be any confusion between the two men.
He sat down on the side of the bed and traced his fingers over her, stroking along her arms, her belly and breasts, drawing a line down the long length of her thighs, caressing the back of her knees. His brain recorded her responses, the sounds and twitches and indrawn breaths, memorizing them and storing them away for further use until he finally came to rest on her hip. Aeryn touched his hand, glancing pointedly at the gloves and waited. He shook his head. If he touched her skin to skin, he’d lose control, be powerless against her. Instead, he smiled and pulled her wrists together with his other hand, raising them above her head.
He bent towards her, brushing her lips with his, and then pulled back a little. Echoing her earlier demand, he said quietly, “Keep your eyes open, if you can.”
He then hooked his free hand around her knee, angling it up, exposing her. He could look into her eyes, could simultaneously see her open and wet, moisture glistening along her thighs. He shifted against the pressure of his erection, almost unbearably uncomfortable now trapped in the leather pants, but he needed a little more time. He could barely control his own breathing at this point, was so hot and distracted that he wasn’t sure he could finish this task, but he had waited for her for so long that he knew he could master his own control for a few more precious microts.
John licked his lips, mouth watering at her scent, and glided his hand off her hip, slipping between her damp curls. He rubbed his gloved fingers over her clitoris, spreading the moisture around before sliding two fingers inside her. She gasped, but kept her eyes open and he smiled at her, pleased. He thrust inside her, slowly and forcefully, and then withdrew, coming back to circle over her clit again before plunging back in with three fingers. His grip on her wrist was tight and she strained against him. There would undoubtedly be bruises, but neither one of them was thinking that far ahead. All he could do was soak up the smell and feel of her, the contractions against his hand as he continued to drive into her, answering her thrusting hips, and then she came with a cry, yelling his name, and it was almost enough to send him over the edge.
He withdrew from her, releasing her wrists as she turned onto her back, panting. He rested his damp hand on her belly, noticed it was shaking and tried to regain a modicum of composure, unsure now of what to do. The decision was taken out of his hands, so to speak. Aeryn sat up taking his hand in both of hers, raising it to her mouth and stroking her tongue along over his fingers before moving to the exposed flesh of his wrist. She lightly licked the skin, then she bit him sharply. Her patience was obviously over.
“No more barriers,” she growled. “Take your clothes off now.”
He obeyed more quickly than he’d ever done anything in his life, pants and boots and shirt and belt flying off to land in a heap on his coat before he finally peeled off the gloves. Before he knew it, she had pulled him down onto the bed, rolled him over, straddled him and clasping his cock tightly in her hand, forced herself down onto him, eliciting simultaneously shouts from both of them.
He sat up quickly, locking his arms around her, digging his fingers into her hips, her skin burning through his palms, and met her thrust for thrust, their mouths battling, tongues tangling, genitals grinding. He could feel her orgasm as she groaned it into his mouth, felt the tight contractions around his cock, prayed a word of thanks to whatever deities were hanging around, and flipped them so she rested on the end of the bed, her legs locked around his waist, driving into her with a force and violence he wouldn’t have always considered himself capable of. The release built up from the center of his belly, a fiery explosion matched by his yell. He saw blackness swim over his vision and he collapsed on top of her, her legs curling around him, bodies entwined, both catching their breath, coming back into themselves.
A few minutes later, he levered himself off her, moving to allow her to climb out of the bed and pull back the covers. He caught her hand, turning her towards him, and took her face in his hands, moving his thumb along her cheekbones and resting his forehead against her. The musky scent of sex clung to them both, and he grinned at that.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“I love you “ she replied in that same low tone that she’d used before. “But don’t ever make me wait like that again.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Jiminy Christmas, T!
Date: 2003-06-11 06:03 am (UTC)To be honest, I often skim smut because it's usually a few plug-and-play paragraphs that don't elucidate or resolve anything (more like an intermission for intromission).
But sex as communication? Sex that has consequences and emotional weight? Sex that can't be taken out of the story because it's intwined with who the characters are and where they're going? Luscious stuff.
You had me hooked at the second paragraph, which firmly establishes that she's way ahead of him and his best-laid romantic plans. And I love his delayed anger to that as well.
Re: Jiminy Christmas, T!
Date: 2003-06-16 10:09 am (UTC)