A/N: I'm behind on all my fics, my net is being a bitch, this week sucked and I have spent said week playing with sadness fic so there is this! I'm dedicating it to Lou for her amazing kindness to my minion and for the fact she didn't block me after I accidentally sent her ... well LOL :D HUG YOU!
It's the tangle of his fingers in her hair, that's how it begins. That's how it always begins.
It's the way he threads and weaves through the thick strands so gently, then grips hard at the roots and drags her closer.
It's the rasp of his nails at her scalp that makes her gasp and open to him, inviting him in, demanding his invasion.
They collide with something, move past it fast, twirling with frantic hands, biting teeth and they bounce from pillar to post in a heated clash of limbs.
It's how he angles her mouth and breaks apart the seam of her lips, his tongue dipping to draw the air from her lungs with each desperate, passionate kiss.
His thumbs press into her jaw, large splayed meaty digits that circle aimlessly, deliberately focusing her attention on the hot thick feel of him.
He doesn't stop, doesn't give in, he's thorough and relentless and he pursues her until she's breathing hard. Seeing stars, dizzy and intoxicated by the taste of him.
It's the muscled heat of his body pressed against hers, around her, under and over her. It's the tumble they take across silken sheets, polished wood and roughened carpets.
She pants and his palms open wide, kneading her thighs until she's on her tiptoes trying to get closer, trying to climb him, cover him and devour him. Just when she's on the edge of losing it, her frustration bubbling over into wild intensity, he picks her up.
Her legs wrap around him, squeezing tight and she rides the palms of his hands as he gives her just enough leverage to boost herself closer.
Her fingers slide into his hair and she holds his face, but he bounces her just enough that he's still commanding the kiss.
It's the thud of his heart through the wall of her chest when he lays her down and whispers secret words into the dips and hollows of her skin. She doesn't understand, and yet, like magic, she reacts to each and every one, her body coming alive in the darkness of their bedroom.
And his fingers tangle again in her hair, struggle through a fevered haze like he doesn't know quite what he's doing. But he does. He's burns with it and he makes sure every flame licks a path across her skin too, scorching her from the inside out.
His arms lift her, pull her face to his, cradle her jaw and neck, restraint and power buzzing just below the surface. The pitter pat of kisses in stark contrast to the urgency of his fingers when they pull apart her knees. He thumbs the creases, cups her calf, uses her ankles to get nearer all the while feeding from her mouth lazily.
He drinks down her desire, gulp after gulp, needful and consuming, until it's too much and she pushes away to breathe, arms banding around his back holding him tight to her chest.
She pants.
Hot, wet breath paints his skin in dirty ink, filthy and erotic lines of vocal poetry leave her with each quivering exhale, each mumbled confession and declaration. Her mouth opens at his neck, another whispered line of need leaving her with the roll of his hips.
Her hands ripple like water, over a steady flow of muscle and sinew that feels amazing in her palms. The solid feel of him flooding her blood.
She murmurs against his mouth, his jaw, his chest and arms, the inside of his elbow sloppy with her kisses, anywhere she can touch, anywhere she can trace with her tongue.
She begins weaving kisses over his jaw when he gives up her lips and swipes his tongue down the long column of her throat.
She shudders, surrenders and succeeds all at once. Triumph raging, adrenalin surging and everything screaming for release. Screaming for him.
He sucks her pulse and starlight dances bright behind her eyelids, the shadow of him, the way he works her body up into a frenzy, laying over everything. His eyelashes beat against her own, fingers skating her chest and playing over each rib.
She's breathing hard, harder than before. Her chest heaving with every breath, every touch consuming her like fire. Smokey exhales tangle around them, tugging them together and it's the way he leans in and shares her breath before stealing it from her.
Harsh sounds leave her, raw and ragged, jagged through the back of her throat and out over her tongue. He catches the sounds and keeps them for himself, pulling them down her body and setting them free.
His nose bumps across her chest, his lips skating a slippery path between her breasts and it's the way he slathers her skin with devotion until she's quivering with it all over.
His own baritone moan gives new meaning to her feelings, capturing her puckered flesh and savoring it, adoration shining bright in his eyes and heavy over his tongue when he swirls it and sucks her into the dark fiendish recesses of his mouth.
They twist and turn and roll together, her head thrown back in delight, delirium at the rasp of love letters falling from the path of his stubble. His chin dragging, his head lowering, his mouth opening against her stomach until she's near to sobbing with it.
Need, lust and love mixing until they meld together, a palette of promise.
It's the way his hands bare her thighs and he spreads her apart, holding tight to her hips and nuzzling his cheek over the softest skin, grazing her, burning her, scalding her with his touch before he slips his hand in between them. It's the force of his teeth and the pressure of his thumbs, the pattern of fingerprints and the way he rolls his tongue completely unhurried.
It's the way he holds her steady as her body arches high off the bed and not once, never ever once does he pause, he doesn't relent or give in or surrender to the roll of her hips. She begs him to keep going, don't stop, please don't stop.
It's the noise he makes when he lets her thrash and doesn't hold her down but lifts her up, lifts with her, lets her ride it out and soar.
It's the moan of bliss when her hands fist in his hair and he groans deep, deep into her. Heavy hums that reverberate across her skin, seeking the warmth of her body and trickling inside of her like hot honey. Silken and sweet.
It's the way he laps at her skin, tasting divinity until she's reaching for the heavens, touching the sky and glancing the clouds.
It's the way he climbs up over her, slow and methodical, watching her come down, taking in every single reaction and revelling in it. He watches her coast the highest waves of pleasure and claw at his skin before she drifts back down and shudders into some kind of frenetic, mellow peace.
A misleading peace that leaves her craving more of him, all of him. Every little and not so little bit of him.
It's the way his hands draw her legs apart further and he pulls her closer, a hitch and a gasp tugging her down the bed, drawing dark humour from her chest, smiles from her lips and deep satisfying sighs from everywhere else.
It's the firm press and hard insistence that steals her breath again. Delight flooding her blood stream, firelights and butterfly wings traipsing over her skin.
It's the way the first touch breaks their eyes wide apart so that they are staring at each other, staring deeply into the other, finding exactly what they have been searching for.
It's the nudge and roll of his hips, the surge of his thighs and the slow upwards advance that leaves her teetering on the brink of insanity, more than ready to surrender, more than ready to fall.
It's the smooth press of his pelvic bone over hers, the ache that he drives deep inside her and the soft flutter of her body in reaction.
It's the slow fast, long and shallow meeting of their bodies, the yelp and moan and cry of delight, the sharp bite of bliss and the drawn out, slow kiss of passion that splinters her apart in his arms.
It's the slide of his tongue against her own, soft on one side and rough against the roof of her mouth. It's the dig and claw of her fingers in his back and the tightening grip of his hands at her hips.
It's the stain of fingerprint bruises on their shared flesh and the patterns of nails that they trace later, in sweet sated daylight, half moons of ecstasy embedded in plump and pink, hard and tan.
Skin on skin, it's everything.
It's the choked cry of his name leaving her mouth and the way he calls to her, for her, over and over and over again, pressing each sound into the heat of her, her lips, her mouth, the cradle of her thighs and the valley between her breasts until she's sobbing, aching and arching again.
It's the bright hot burst of him inside her, pulsing, rippling and pushing her over the edge, melting her body, heart, mind and soul.
It's everything.
It's them.
And it always starts with the tangle of his fingers.