bloodyrockgod | (no subject)

"Ooooh," she moans, surprised. She hadn't meant time for that, really, but. . .

She bends one knee, her toes curling against the blanket as she waits to see if he'll do it again.

With a reaction like that, of course he'll do it again.

And again.

And again.

She twists and trembles against his mouth, clutching the blanket underneath her with both hands as he pushes her closer and closer and--

closerclosercloser

--it really won't be long for her, yet.

"Charliecharliecharlie," she chants until she can't make out entire words anymore.

Why make a woman come?

Because you can.

There probably isn't a woman alive who would disagree with that.

And this one certainly isn't disagreeing. In fact, she's rather emphatically agreeing, not loudly, but definitely repeatedly.

And he is doing his best to bring it about, holding her hips, licking and sucking her, moaning a bit himself.

Without her even realizing it, her hand suddenly finds itself entangled in his hair.

Her toes curl.

Her legs tremble.

And she very nearly arches right off the bed.

His tongue slows down until she pushes his head away--enough, quite clearly--and then he sits back on his heels, looking very pleased with himself.

It takes a moment, once he's stopped, for her to come down off the endorphins enough to think coherently again.

She opens her eyes, giving him the once over, and smiles lazily at him.

"Not done, you know."

"I know," he says and pounces, kissing her, tangling them up in legs and fingers and soft flowing hair.

She sighs contentedly and wraps her legs around his waist.

"Want you. . .now" she insists and reaches down to help guide him inside her.

He shudders, keeping his eyes open and fixed on hers, holding her hips and pushing up as she pushes down.

"Yes," she says for no particular reason except that, oh, she's been waiting so long for this.

"Charlie, Charlie," she sighs in awe as their hips begin moving against each other, establishing a rhythm easily.

His head is thrown back and he breathes harshly, trembling all over. He can't speak. Can't form a word.

It's her. Inside her.

She grips his shoulders, leaning closer to kiss his chin as she moves above him. In this position, God, in this position she can feel him everywhere inside her, and as each thrust of her hips meets his, a small strangled noise escapes her lips.

His fingers tangle in her hair and he kisses her open-mouthed, breathing in her breath. His other arm is behind him, supporting them, so his hips are free to move in time with hers. He wants--oh, god, he wants to keep this going forever but he's only human and it's her--

He groans "Claire!" and his fingers knot in her hair more tightly.

"Whenever, Charlie," she murmurs reassuringly against his mouth, kissing him again before the words are even finished.

She manages one hand between them, to help herself along, and quickens their pace, as the fingers of her other hand claw at his shoulder.

It's isn't--

too soon

--much longer.

A shout and more desperate thrusts and he falls back against the headboard and pillows.

She is, fortunately, just as close and a few seconds later she follows him off that treacherous cliff. Her hand shoots out to brace herself against his chest as she arches back, her mouth open on a gasp, her thighs hugging his hips tightly.

His hand is still supporting one hip. "That's my girl," he whispers to her, "that's my beautiful girl."

He strokes her hair.

She tucks her head against his neck, letting him pet her until her breathing becomes less ragged and harsh. And even then she is reluctant to move away from him, or off of him, or in any way that will not feel as good as this does right now.

Eventually though, she pulls back, smiling as she searches his face. And she laughs. And kisses him again.

He's smiling too as she studies him, smiling as she kisses him with laughter in her mouth. He wraps his arms around her, anchoring her firmly against him.

In some way or another-- against him or beside him, it doesn't matter which-- it's where she's meant to be.

"Charlie," she whispers, and shifts so that she's no longer curled up in his lap but stretched out on top of him. She toys with one of his necklaces.

"We finally did it."

He tickles her lips with a lock of her hair. "Worth the wait, too."

She laughs and bats the hair away, grabbing his hand instead and tangling her fingers with his.

"Worth the wait, yes, and so much better than it would have been on the island."