Snippets of an affair ~ First ecstasy

[zahraowens]

Title: Snippets of an affair (23/?) ~ First ecstasy Author: zahra_owens Beta: The one and only Namárië Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 2139 Warnings: Fluff meets angst Disclaimer: Persons and events described here may, on the surface, seem familiar, but I don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Author's note: The POV may change throughout the story, so the 'I' from this chapter may not be the 'I' from the previous chapter.

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I fervently hope the intimacy we just shared is enough to convince you that I love you and that I want to make love to you the way you deserve being made love to. I just don't know if I'll be able to deliver. Spooning behind you here on the couch feels deliciously cosy, though, and if I didn't know we'd grow cold soon, I wouldn't want to move. We do fit perfectly together like this.

You move your hand to caress my thigh and I pull you closer to prevent you from slipping your hand between our bodies.

"Not fair," you giggle. "I want my toy." Your pout is very convincing and as I touch as much of your bare skin as I can, you playfully turn away from me, trying to get your hands on my cock without being tickled. I can see you're still pretty much hard, despite your earlier orgasm, and I eventually relent, allowing you to crouch down between my legs. I feel my hardness swell rapidly as I watch you regard my erection with childlike wonder and enthusiasm. There's a naughty smile on your face as you use both hands to move the skin back and forth while cupping my heavy sac. I need to consciously will myself to relax, trying to remember the good times, when my own demons didn't make sex something to fear yet. It should be easy, but it's not. Despite your expertise at giving stellar blowjobs, my body is tense and my heartbeat racing because all I can think of is how you used to slip your finger past my guardian muscle whenever you used to blow me and how that would spoil it all for me right now. Luckily when your hand moves away from my balls, you reach behind yourself and I can barely keep looking at how your dark curls bounce up and down when you arch your back so you can finger yourself while deep-throating me. It only takes a small gesture from me to make you stop.

"You okay?" you ask me gently.

I nod, and a wide smile breaks on your face. You get up from the floor and straddle me. "I think you're ready to give me my reward." You're coy and confident at the same time when you reach for the lube that I left on the couch earlier. After generously coating me with the rather cold gel, I support you as you prepare to sink down over my erection. I know I'm ready. I can do this.

You take your time, slowly lowering yourself over my slicked up cock and the heat that surrounds me feels so incredibly good that all I can do when I'm finally completely inside you is wrap my arms around you and cuddle you. As I look up, I see tears in your eyes and I immediately worry that I've hurt you.

You shake your head and wipe your hand over my face. "Don't frown. It feels so good, Love, so good." And then you finally start moving. You're leaking copiously, painting wet streaks across the downy hair on my belly. You're so hard that you can spring your cock between our stomachs and I support your movements by cupping your ass cheeks. I want this to last, want us to take our time, so I try to make you slow down a bit. I have to admit I won't last long, though. It feels too good for that and I'm elated we're finally able to make love again.

Then suddenly the whole room, which was fairly dark until now, for a fraction of a second is bathed in light. Just moments later another flash does the same. You startle each time and stop moving.

"Fuck, Love, it's beautiful!" you exclaim.

I try to look over my shoulder, but the couch is obscuring my view. All I can see is that it's pitch black outside.

Then I hear a rumble and a crack and cold, wet air suddenly enters the room. You jump off of me and move back and it's only then I see the storm has picked up again and blown the window open. I try to close it again but the couch is in the way, so I try to pull it away from the window. After you help me out, you're the first to get to the window and I help you to push it closed again. You're dripping wet and shivering as I try to wipe the cold rain off your body.

"Fuck me here, in front of the window, with the storm outside and the two of us safely in here," you suggest, your voice raspy.

I look you in the eye to see how serious you are, and then outside to decide whether I can do it and expose both of us to the possible scrutiny of the outside world. As I realise that the idea actually turns me on and that it's the kind of weather you wouldn't even send a dog into, I kiss you hard and then turn you around. It's easy to slip into you again and you urge me on to pick up the pace. From time to time, the outside world lights up as if someone has flicked on a switch, and in those moments I see us as well: you with your arms outstretched, leaning against the frame of the floor-to-ceiling window, me behind you thrusting into you with all the force I can muster. My hands are on your hips, holding you steady, but the relentless tempo, although very satisfying, is also very tiring, so I pause for a moment.

"Your turn to move," I suggest and you look over your shoulder and turn your head to kiss me. Slowly you start moving, sensuously rocking your ass and letting me slip in and almost out of you, while I lean against the back of the couch which is still behind me. As you lean forward a bit I can just make out where I end and you begin and this gives me the stimulus to start moving again. The heat is rising between us as we try not to get distracted by the beautiful patterns the lightning is painting in the sky. My rhythm starts to falter as I feel the familiar, but long overdue feeling of an orgasm building in my groin. I thrust in hard again, trying to aim for your prostate and judging from your loud moans, I'm succeeding. I really want to drag you over together with me, so I reach around to your front to find your hand already frantically fisting yourself. This is enough to make me see stars as my hips continually thrust into you of their own accord and I feel my orgasm flooding me.

Afterwards we cling to each other, panting hard as we come down off our high. There are white streaks all over the window and you giggle as you realise we're both looking at them.

"We'll need to clean that up before it dries," you chuckle, "but man, I haven't come this hard in a long time!"

We do manage to clean ourselves and the window before crawling into bed together, even though we can't manage more than two steps without kissing and cuddling. It just feels totally amazing to realise the connection between us is still there and even stronger than it was before. I can't stop looking at you, can't stop running my hands through your curly hair, can't stop touching your soft skin and your long lean muscles. I've never been so in love as I am today, but when I tell you this you just smile.

"You're beautiful," you say, echoing what I feel about you.

I'm quick to shake my head. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," you reply confidently. "It's true, because I say so."

I have no recourse for that. As I lean over to you to kiss you, by now our lips almost raw, because we've been doing nothing but that all night, I feel myself grow hard again. I'm not the only one who's surprised.

You pull me even more on top of you. "Make love to me again? Like this, with your weight on me?"

It's so easy to grind against you, into you, touching something so profound, so deep inside you that your face shows the ecstasy I bring you to, this place where there's only you and I and utter bliss. We take our time, not talking, just taking our cues from each other; up to the peak and then back down, but never over, at least not yet. You're completely underneath me, legs spread wide, knees pulled up, friction facilitated by precome and salty sweat from both our skins. As I grab your wrists and pull them over your head you come, suddenly and quite violently, the convulsions of your body dragging me over as well. I chuckle as I realise you came untouched, despite it being your third orgasm in a few hours’ time, and your only stimulation was my thrusting and grinding.

You're curiously quiet underneath me. "I'll move," I whisper.

You open those gorgeous brown eyes and simply mouth "No." Then you say, "I don't want you to move, because I love feeling your weight on me. What took you so long?"

I chuckle, feeling nervous again. "I have no idea!"

"Ssh," you sooth me. "Don't want you to slip out of me yet, want to keep you inside me for a while."

"We can't stay like this forever."

"No, but just a little bit longer?"

I try to stay still, as we watch light slowly creep up the horizon.


****

We're home only just in time for you to leave for work. I'm glad we took our time to shower at the hotel and then went for another walk on the beach, this time in lovely, if cold, winter weather. It gave us the chance to talk and made it completely clear to me that you’re here to stay.

While you're upstairs getting changed, my cell phone rings. I'm just finishing the call, when I'm distracted by you walking down the stairs, wearing your form-fitting waiter's tux.

"Anything important?" you ask as you grab your coat to go out.

I nod. "Let me call a taxi to take you there."

"I'll be fine. It's not far."

"I think you should," I insist. "That was our solicitor. Apparently the charge will be rape, WITH grievous bodily harm."

"Oh my God! That's great!" you exclaim, eyes wide. "That didn't quite sound right, but it's good news, right?"

I nod and shrug. "I suppose we have a chance that justice will be done."

You launch yourself at me and I find myself being thoroughly hugged. "Oh God, I wish we could celebrate. Why don't you pick me up after work and we can go somewhere for a late dinner or dessert or something. Maybe Chef will make us something at the restaurant?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," I acknowledge, realising that some more of the weight on my shoulders has been lifted.

****

Exactly at midnight, my taxi stops in the street where you work. There's a car double parked on the pavement and it's blocking the narrow street, making the cabbie curse under his breath. I try to tell him it's okay, that he can drop me off here and just as I'm paying him, I see a man cross to the other side and walk into the restaurant. The driver is adamant to drop me off where he said he would and navigates his car past the blockage by driving onto the curb at the opposite side of the street.

The restaurant looks deserted, most of the lights in the front already dimmed, and I'm hoping that the last customers will leave soon, so we can have one of your Chef's notoriously delicious desserts to celebrate. As I walk through the front door, I hear noises in the back, like there's a fight going on and fear grips me, but the thought of you possibly being involved means I can't stay where I'm standing. I run past the tables already set up for tomorrow's service, then past the bar and just as I'm crossing into the hallway, I see you being pushed out of the well-lit kitchen by the man I saw entering earlier. Only he has his hoody pulled off his head now, so I recognise his face.

Then you grunt loudly and your face contorts in pain as you both collapse to the floor. Almost immediately I see the sous chef stick his head round the corner, the phone in his hand, and I hear the sirens of police cars.

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