Come Together
The afternoon sun was sinking, the light filtering through the windows turning the light color of gray that said night was encroaching across the world. Elizabeth was sleeping, her head thrown back tempting him with the expanse of her neck. The robe she’d thrown on to come downstairs gaped open invitingly, revealing the beginning swell of her left breast, her nipples outlined through the thin silky fabric.
At the moment, Will couldn’t have come up with the name of the movie playing on the television screen if his life depended on it. He’d woken from a light doze, turned his head, and was greeted with something so much more interesting to look at than whatever they’d put in after Monty Python drew to a close.
He had to touch her.
Moving slowly to avoid waking her, he slipped from the couch and knelt in front of her on the floor. The position reminded him of losing control, the half-remembered images only making him harder. They’d had rough and drunk, and then last night they’d had the urgency of finally succumbing to something they’d both been wanting since.
Now, in the sleepy quiet of her living room, he was neither drunk nor urgent.
He wanted to see her. To let his eyes drink her in until he could pull her fully formed into his memory when she wasn’t there.
One finger traced the outline of a nipple, and he grinned when it puckered beneath his touch, turning into a hard little pebble easily distinguished through the fabric. Her breathing hitched, barely, and he drew back glancing up at her face and half expecting to see her awake.
She wasn’t. He had no idea how deep a sleeper she was, how much it would take to ease her out of sleep and into the present, but it was experiment he was up for. Literally.
Gently, not ready for her to be aware of him yet, he let his hands find the tie to the long robe and slowly started working at the knot. His breathing came faster, and he shifted as his cock throbbed in anticipation. He licked his lips as the robe finally fell open, and he was greeted with a full view of sleeping naked woman. The fact that she was wearing nothing underneath was a bonus he hadn’t been expecting, easy access to what he’d been craving with no barriers left.
Her nipples were standing at attention, her breasts full and firm and still high in that way that only young fit women enjoyed. Her stomach was flat and firm, all the way to the nest of dark brown curls peeking out from between her thighs. Flashes of things he wanted to do rushed behind his eyes, one after another, until his breathing was heavy and he couldn’t resist the need to reach down and rub himself through the jeans he’d found in the boot of his car earlier. She’d teased him, saying he was so desperate for her that he had been carrying around extra clothes on the off chance of getting to stay over ever since that first time.
She’d been right, but there was no way he would ever admit to it.
That memory helped, but not quite enough, so he leaned back and closed his eyes, forcing his hand away from what was fast becoming center of his awareness. After a few deep breaths the feeling had receded enough that he opened his eyes and stared some more, control back in place.
Beautiful. Amazing. A hundred other words he would have to remember to use later when his mind was capable of coming up with them.
Very gently, he ran his hands lightly up her thighs, nudging her legs until she was spread wide in front of him. The pink folds nestled inside a patch of light brown hair made his mouth water and his cock push painfully against his zipper. He licked his lips, and risked another check on her state.
She was still sleeping, her breasts rising and falling with the slow deep breaths of deep sleep. He imagined touching them, pushing them together and sliding his cock between them until he came, covering her face and chest with - damn. Too much. This was going beyond prurient and into the realm of physically painful far too fast for his liking, so he quickly undid his jeans and let his cock spring free. The air of the room hitting him was shock enough to keep him slightly under control, and as long as he kept his hands away from the blasted thing he should be able to return to his perusal.
He leaned forward just enough to reach one hand to the column of her neck, ghosting his fingers over it and down, tracing her clavicle lightly before continuing to the valley between her breasts. He loved the feel of her chest rising and falling beneath his fingertips, adored the way it made her tits move in front of him. His other hand wrapped itself around his dick of it’s own accord and he bit his bottom lip at the sensation before firmly removing it. It was one thing to wake her and enjoy each other, something else all together to jack off just looking at her.
Although that thought brought another image to mind to torture himself with, and he could almost see her tiny little fingers pumping in and out of her pussy while he watched, her eyes glittering with lust while they stared into his.
Fuck, if he didn’t stop thinking about what they could do and concentrate on what he was doing he’d come before he ever even touched the parts of her he wanted to touch.
He couldn’t resist anymore, and his hand closed gently around her right breast, sqeezing slightly while letting his thumb ghost across the tip of her nipple. Her breaths were coming slightly faster now, and her back arched a bit, but she still seemed to be sleeping. If she didn’t wake up soon - well, he couldn’t decide if he wanted her to wake up right now or let him play a little more first.
His eyes kept darting down to her quim, open for him, just waiting to be touched. With his free hand, he traced around her outer lips, barely touching at first, then found her clit and made slow, steady circles around it, teasing.
He licked suddenly dry lips, and tried to get his breathing under control before he slid one finger inside her. He rubbed the inside of her until her fluids started to flow, then used it wet her clit. She was breathing heavy now, and her head moved back, her neck arching out and a tiny whimpering sound escaped her. Nearly there.
He replaced his finger with his tongue, and felt her whole body start. He grinned and used the hand on her breast to push her back into the couch.
“Don’t move.” His voice sounded ragged, and he met her eyes. “Just lean back and enjoy it.” He’d meant to ask her if this was okay, but her shocked little head nod told him that it was. He spared a breath moment to send thanks to whatever Ultimate Power allowed for that to be so, and went back to staring at her pussy.
She tasted divine on his tongue, and he used his fingers to spread her lips and let him delve as deep as his tonge would go. The hand on her breast started moving again, rolling her nipple between his fingers and pinched. She had glorious breasts, and he wished he could suck them and her pussy at the same time.
But right now her hips were pushing against his face, and the smell of her surrounded him, and with one last tweak he abandoned her tit for later torture so he could dedicate both of his hands and his mouth to making more of those delightful little noises escape from her throat.
She was bucking wildly under him, and he was disappointed that he had to move one hand to her hips to hold her steady to avoid some kind of injury. But it was worth it. He pulled her clit into his mouth and sucked hard, nipping it with his teeth, and shoved two fingers firmly inside of her, curling them up and rubbing hard, and was soaked with her juices as she came around his fingers. She made the most enticing part whimper part grunt when she came, and his own hips started pushing forward, his cock aching with the need to be touched.
He slid his fingers out of her when she relaxed, mumbling something about his prowess and how nice a way that was to wake up.
“Not finished.” He corrected her almost offhandedly, then abandoned her clit to reach inside her with his tongue and collect as much of that ambrosia as he could. He took advantage of the natural lubrication covering his fingers to slide one finger between her cheeks and push a finger into her ass while his tongue worked her quim.
The affect was immediate, the clenching of her muscles suprising him as much as the high pitched squeal ripped from her throat. The orgasm was longer, harder the first and he grunted as the first contraction hit him hard and he was coming too. His hips thrust into the air, seeking, and he had to pull back. Had to. He was spurting even while he shoved his cock inside of her heat, and everything faded around him as he pounded into her, her muscles still clenching around him like a vice.
Minutes later, he opened his eyes and realized his face had come to rest against a heaving chest. If he shifted just a bit he could, yeah. He pulled the pretty pink little into his mouth for a quick suck, then, still breathing hard, tried to find something to say.
“Sweet Jesus.” Well, not exactly poetry, was it.
“uuunng.” She answered.
Okay, so they were both pretty much spent after that.
The memory of her reaction to one finger just barely pressing into that tight ring of muscles was filed away for later exploration. When he was sufficiently recovered. Which he wished was now, but wasn’t, so he considered sliding out of her and moving away enough to keep from crushing her.
That was intention. It really was.
But it was wonderfully warm and wet in there, and sleep sounded like a good idea. He stayed, just a little while, fighting against the lethargy of sleep, until she started pushing slightly on his shoulders.
“Can’t breath.”
“Yeah.”
It wasn’t very far, really. Just stand up, stumble a step or two, pull his jeans off - that’s twice now he didn’t even get undressed, he grinned to himself - and he was snuggled together with her on the couch.
He could get used to this.
She woke the second time, groggy and warm and pressed up against a soft t-shirt with the feel of naked man against her thigh. Or maybe, she thought with a tiny grin, she could say half naked man. It was totally unfair the way he was always denying her the view of his luscious body while she was all naked. There was a tiny little uncomfortable feeling niggling her consciousness about that, but she shoved it away and snuggled deeper into the warmth that was her boyfriend.
Boyfriend. She had a boyfriend. That sounded so - high school. There should be another name for what he was. Lover sounded too, well, too much like what he was and not enough like what the romantic waking up inside of her wanted.
She woke up Buffy, and the shock of it nearly had her jumping to her feet and running for her life.
Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, and she only realized how precarious her perch on the couch was when she hit the floor. One couch not made for two people. Will snorted in his sleep, then one eye opened.
“Y’okay?”
“Yeah. Rolling over, not of the good.”
“Wanna go up to bed?”
She did. She really did, and it scared her. She was forgetting, and she wasn’t at all sure she liked the sensation.
She just had sex on her mother’s couch. On the couch her mother died on. She was going to throw up.
“Shower.” She nearly shouted, scooting backward and pulling her robe around her. Will was sitting up now, his head tilted and his eyes boring into her in that way that made her feel like he could hear her thoughts. See her soul. The way she had been starting to enjoy, and now just made her have to be somewhere else. Where he wasn’t.
“You okay? Elizabeth?”
“Fine.” She took a deep breath, deciding she could fake her way through it. “Just kinda got startled out of really good sleep. Go on up to bed. I’m going to have a shower, then I’ll be right there, okay?”
He didn’t look like he was buying it.
“Something’s wrong.”
Damn. She didn’t know how to tell him what was wrong. She didn’t know, not really, just that suddenly she felt like she was far too attached to him. There was no way that he would see that as the bad thing she was certain it was.
“No. Just - I’m not used to this and it threw me. Okay? Nothing bad.” Liar. “Just - I need to get to used to someone else being around I guess.”
He nodded, slowly. Half believing her. “Sure.”
His eyes were roaming over her, and she felt herself start to flush. She was thinking about something before. It was important. She’d wanted some privacy. Hadn’t she?
“Shower?”
“That a question or an invitation?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she felt a hand - his hand, his ohsotalentedIcan’trememberwhyIwasleaving hands.
“Up to you. But I’m all sticky.” She pouted at him,and his cock twitched. Something about that was immensely satisfying, and whatever it was that was making her all weird a second ago faded into the background. She knew it would be back. He would go home, and the house would be empty, and she would remember whatever it was, but right now she was caught by the fact that he wanted her again. They must have slept a while, then, because it was completely dark and he was obviously - recuperated.
“Gonna get sticky again.”
“umm-hmmm”
But not in the living room. Not on the couch. That was important, though she couldn’t remember why. She cast a look over her shoulder while she sauntered up the stairs, not bothering to close her robe. She was surprised it was still hanging from her shoulders in the first place.
He followed her.
She liked that. Could get used to it, actually. To having some kind of power over him.
For now, she ignored the power he’d already proven he had over her.