A/N: Mature content is ahead. You have been warned. Enjoy! ~Halo
In the Moonlight
Quatre shifted in bed, the warm, comfortable haze of sleep slowly lifting like a cloud. He made a discontented, throated moan and reached over, hoping to tug his wife against his bare chest, but his hand came in contact with the soft, cool sheets. His eyes opened, alarmed ever so slightly, to find her side of the bed empty.
He pushed himself up, prepared to go in search of her, when he saw her.
Lista stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, beautifully bathed in the uninhibited moonlight. She gazed out into the splendor of the night sky, her white satin negligee shimmering like diamonds with every breath she took.
He watched her silently for a moment, basking in the curve of her back, the dark ebony of her sleep-disheveled hair cascading over her shoulders, the thin sheen of her bare legs highlighted against the moonglow.
Quatre tossed the sheets to the side and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His toes curled into the soft plush of the carpet as he made his way over to her. He slid beside her, his hand gently moving over her shoulder to push back the curtain of her hair. "Sweetheart, what are you doing up? Are you all right?"
He felt her sigh under his hand. She turned to face him, a tired smile spread across her rosy lips. "I'm okay. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd just look at the moon and stars." She pressed a hand against the base of her neck, her gaze moving back to the ethereal glow of the clear night sky. "I guess I lost track of time."
Quatre's eyes fell to the sheen of her skin against the moonshine, the slight purse of her lips, the silken waterfall of midnight around her peach shoulders. "Perhaps some warm milk would help." He pulled his hand away from her and took a step back. "I'll go get some for you."
Lista spun to face him, her hands tugging his. She shook her head. "No, that's okay, Quatre. I'm sure I'll get back to sleep on my own in a little while." She stepped closer to him, sliding one of her hands up his arm. She could feel his body heat pleasantly slamming into her. "You should go back to bed. You have a day full of meetings ahead of you."
He squeezed her hand. "Only if you'll come to bed with me."
With cherry-painted cheeks, she smiled and nodded in agreement. He ushered her from the window, away from the watchful moon's gaze. She sat down on her side of the bed, and Quatre stood over her, staring at her adoringly, mesmerized by the bright green of her eyes against the darkness of the room.
He extended his hand, stroking his knuckles against her cheek, brushing his thumb against her bottom lip. She closed her eyes, a low, contented moan vibrating against her throat. "You were meant to stand in the moonlight, you know," he whispered. As her eyes opened, the green hidden under a canopy of thick, dark lashes, he angled her chin up and leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a sweet, tender kiss.
Lista reached up and splayed her fingers against the back of his neck, the curls of his soft blond hair sifting in between them. She tugged him down, and he climbed on the bed over her, their kiss quickly growing deeper, heated.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down on top of her, her legs spread to accommodate him resting between her thighs. Her skirts hiked up, and she could feel the growing hardness pressing against her center. She broke away from the kiss, breathless, blushing, eyes lidded with passion.
His blush rivaled hers, his chest heaving for air, but he said nothing. He didn't have to. She slid her hand between them, down his body, moving into his pants. Quatre swallowed hard as he felt her hand gently grab ahold of his stiffening erection, slowly stroking the length of him. He whispered her name brokenly, biting his lip and hanging his head at the feel of her palm encasing him.
He snapped his hand over her arm suddenly, jerking her to a stop. She could feel him trembling in unabashed desire, but he moved her hand away from him with a firm shake of his head. He pressed his palms against her face and leaned in for another deep kiss, easing her back again to the mattress.
Lista felt her center beginning to throb as she reached for his shoulders, her nails scoring against them as she broke their kiss to breathe. Quatre leaned down, burying his face in the crook of her neck with heavy, uneven breaths, pressing his hot mouth against the tendon between her neck and shoulder.
She felt his hand shuffling between them. His slid his palm against her thigh and tugged her skirts above her waist. She curled her toes into the mattress as his fingers began to play upon her through her panties, now hot and damp.
"Tell me what you need, sweetheart," Quatre rasped in her ear as his fingers rubbed against her gingerly. He pulled away to look at her face; she was biting back a moan, her neck craned, her eyes slamming into his.
Instead of answering him, her hands moved in between them, making short work of the satin panties acting as the flimsy line of defense against her throbbing core. She moved her hand over his and directed him back to touch against the searing, wet folds of her sex.
Quatre pressed a finger slowly inside, and she pulled her legs back ever so slightly to give him more room. His pants felt tight against his aching erection, and all he could do was imagine it was his cock replacing his finger inside of his wife's warm body.
She moaned low against his ear, jarring him from his thoughtful stupor, and he worked his hand against her slowly, torturously, lovingly. Her fingers slid into the curls of his hair, grasping him, staring up at him in gratitude, as she began to roll her hips into his hand. She bit her lip against another moan, but he shook his head and bent down to slide his mouth in a teasing graze against hers.
"I want to hear you," he whispered hoarsely.
She lifted her head off the bed and dragged her lips against his ear. "You know what makes me say your name," she purred. She swirled her tongue inside his ear, rousing a sharp gasp from his throat, and slid her hand in between them. His hand stopped its ministrations against her as her hand delved into his pants, grasped his hardened cock, and fished it out.
Quatre hissed in her ear, the smallest of touches like fire against him. He added a finger inside her and resumed the thrust of his hand against her while Lista's small, soft palm encased and pumped his throbbing erection. His free hand moved to her shoulder and dragged the strap of her lingerie down her arm. Lista watched him lovingly, stifling another moan, as he tugged the top of her negligee down, allowing a breast to spring free.
The slightest touch of his thumb rolled her nipple into a hardened nub before he bent down to capture it with his mouth. The hot, wet glide of his tongue circling her nipple, flattening against it, roused a sharp gasp and an arch of her back from the bed. Her belly prickled with heat as his touches on her center intensified.
And suddenly, they stopped.
She felt his fingers slide from her heat, and she snapped her gaze to him in confusion. "Quatre, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice wavering in need.
He clapped a hand over her wrist, halting the pumping of her hand over his cock, and stole a quick, lazy kiss. "Trust me, love," he whispered. He made his way down her body, pressing kisses against the grove of her breasts, her still-clothed abdomen, down to her bare hips.
Lista swallowed against the constriction of her throat as his eyes met with hers. He pushed the skirts of her lingerie up around her waist and urged her thighs apart.
The soft, wet press of his tongue against her sex provoked a sharp gasp from deep in her chest, and her fingers curled into the bedding beneath her for stability. She arched her neck off the bed and curled downwards into the hot, wicked touch of his mouth.
He gently nibbled against her, sending jerks through her body, enjoying the taste of her in his mouth. He felt a hand slide over his head, her fingers gripping his hair, as he continued to move his mouth over her.
And, to his delight, his name spilled from her lips in a hushed rasp. Her moans grew louder, uninhibited. The gentle suckle of his mouth against her swollen netherflesh sparked moans, gasps, and grunts from his wife's throat.
Her breathing was coming in pants now, her body tensing in reaction to the ministrations of his mouth. He knew all too well the signs that her climax was near to washing over her. She was pleading softly, her fingers tightening in his hair, her moans and calls of his name like the perfect song in his ears.
Her hips jerked against his mouth, a sharp gasp echoing against the walls, as her orgasm crashed over her in a warm wave. She collapsed on the bed, spent, her chest heaving for precious drinks of air.
Quatre pulled away from her slowly, taking in the aftermath of his wife's climax. Her hair was fanned messily around her face, beads of sweat rolling down her neck. He stalked over her and cupped a hand against her face. She blinked and looked up at him breathlessly. She reached for him, her hands trembling, and pulled him down to press a kiss against him.
"Are you all right, love?" he asked after pulling away, watching her fight to steady her breathing.
She gave him a coy smile and slid her hands against his bare stomach, up his chest, dragging her nails teasingly against him. "I love you," she said simply. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him down until he was settled between her legs. She sucked his earlobe into her mouth, purposefully releasing a throaty breath against him. She lifted her hips and gyrated against his erection, watching him hang his head and close his eyes with a low groan.
She rolled her shoulder and pulled the other strap of her lingerie down, letting her other breast pop free. His eyes were open again, watching her, feasting on the body he'd memorized over the years, the one that cried under his touch and kisses.
She pressed her bared chest against him as she pulled herself up to his ear, and she whispered, "Tell me what you want, Quatre."
"You," he replied hoarsely.
Her lips curled into a seductive, devilish smirk. "How do you want me?"
He watched her drag her tongue against her lips – on purpose, to tempt him further, he knew – and tug her bottom lip in her mouth. His belly tightened. He positioned himself at the juncture of her legs and choked back a moan as he slid decadently inside her.
He leaned down as she arched her back off the bed and pressed his mouth against her jaw. "Like this," he answered in a groan.
Her hips met with his, her feet planted firm against the mattress. She stifled a moan in her throat as his eyes connected with hers. She gasped with a jerked thrust against her, pressing to the hilt of her body. She coiled her fingers into his arms, her nails like fire as they clutched him.
Quatre leaned down, his heated breath beating against the crook of her neck. He felt her hands leave his arms and move to his buttocks, clutching him and urging him against her. She could hear his breathing turn into steady, heavy panting as he intensified his thrusts. She made a vibrating moan in her throat and leaned up to his ear, saying in a low whisper, "I love feeling you inside me."
He groaned and pressed his mouth against her neck. It wasn't the first time he'd heard the words, but he never tired of them. He traced a trail with his lips along the front of her neck, her shoulder, her jaw, to her mouth. He slid his tongue inside, drawing the air out of her lungs as his thrusts sped up and grew stronger, desperate.
Her fingers scored up his back, to his shoulders, clutching him as she craned her neck. Her moans grew louder with every insistent thrust slammed against her. His name spilled from her lips, broken between grateful mewls and gasps.
Quatre continued to weave a sinful waltz against her body, feeling the hot trickle of sweat down his face. He watched droplets land on the grove of her breasts and fade into her skin.
He muffled a moan into the crook of her neck, the silky contractions of her body daring to cast him over the edge at any given moment. She moved beneath him without abandon, her fingers raking his back, his shoulders, threatening to break crescent-shaped marks of possession into him. He cared not. He'd wear them proudly.
She was calling his name again, just as he so enjoyed hearing on her tongue, her whimpers playing about the thick air around them. He lowered himself upon her, hungry for the warm, damp press of her flesh against his. She welcomed him, wrapping and locking her ankles around his waist with a tender squeeze.
Her back arched languidly off the bed, molding herself into his body as if she were meant to be there, and he simply pressed her back into the plush mess of their sheets, driving deliciously into her as deep as her body would allow. He was content for her to sheath him with her sinful warmth, to blanket her with his own body.
He believed on any given day that he could live by simply looking upon her. But then, as he lie with her beneath him, writhing, whimpering, her walls clenching maddeningly around him, he knew that to be grossly untrue.
Lista released a sharp, shrill moan, and her body twisted into him. Quatre groaned; he could feel her pulsing around him, trying to push herself over the edge, fraught with the need of her climax enveloping her.
"Quatre, please," she begged throatily. Her fingers clawed into his back, and she grunted and gasped. "Oh, please. I…"
He blanketed her mouth with his, cutting off her pleads, and hurriedly slammed into the hilt of her body, feeling his own end climbing quickly now. He prayed she'd get there before him, but his own necessity to spill himself deep inside her was drowning him.
She said his name again against their kiss, grazing her lips against his jaw. And then, with one more fluid, long stroke, hot shards exploded and fizzled throughout her body. She cried out her gratitude and jerked through the waves of pleasure spreading to the tips of her fingers, her toes.
Quatre hung his head with a loud groan, the feel of her climax swallowing him. His hands molded her hips as he continued his harried drives into her body, and she welcomed him, whispering praises in his ear in the hope of giving him that much-needed push to his own glorious cataclysmic end.
"Sweetheart," he rasped breathlessly. "Oh, sweetheart. You feel…"
He cut himself off with another groan, and she fought against her own sluggishness to meet his thrusts with her own. His bangs curled and stuck to his forehead, slick with sweat, as he panted in tandem with his hard, fast thrusts. "Come inside me, Quatre," she urged in a hushed, seductive whisper. "I want to feel you."
The huskiness in her voice was the final crack in his control, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, in the pillow of her hair, and cried out in a drawn out groan as he finally spent himself inside her. She dragged her fingers softly against the slick expanse of his back, murmuring sweet nothings in his ear as he climbed down from the precipice, slid gently from her body, and collapsed against her.
Lista closed her eyes and eased his head against her shoulder, pressing a lazy kiss against his temple. She could feel the thumping of his heartbeat as he swallowed gluttonous drinks of air. "Relax, sweetheart," she whispered in a hush. She encircled her arms around his shoulders, tugging him close. "You're so tense."
He swallowed and nuzzled into her neck, leaving a kiss on the tendon there. "As long as you're satisfied, love," he answered tiredly.
She released a gentle chuckle and massaged her fingers against the back of his head, into the bed of his hair. "I always am with you."
He pushed his weight from her and slid his knuckles against her cheek, brushing disheveled hair from her face. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep now?"
Her lips curled into a smile, and she leaned up to him, pressing a lazy kiss against his mouth. She made a contented thrum in the bed of her throat and urged him to the bed, tucking herself tight against him with his arms coming around her in a warm embrace. "Only if you're here next to me."