I don't own Alice in Wonderland or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 Tim Burton film.
Rated M for explicit adult content.
Tarrant has endured endless flirting from Alice; but she won't confess her feelings. Or has he been misinterpreting her actions?
His Problem Was Alice
His problem was Alice. Yes, Alice. His Alice. She had been flirting with him and they had a wonderful and solid friendship, but she wasn't coming around to romance. She would tease him and shower him with kisses upon his nose and his cheeks, but she never graced his lips with them. She would sit in his lap and feed him bits of crumpet and cake and even share a tea cup with him; from the same cup, of course..
But she never, ever, kissed him. Not truly. Pecks on his chin, his cheeks, and even the tip of his nose, but never his lips. Why ever not? Was he merely a brother figure? Or someone she simply believed did not feel the need for True Love? Did she think he was a man who felt no sensual passion or sexual urges? Just because he had an unusual appearance and had the unfortunate tendency to go into fits of mad giggling on occasion did not mean that he was anything less than one hundred percent male.
Right now they were on his sofa. She was between his legs, laying back against him, fast asleep. After dinner she had asked him to read to her, as she often did, and he was happy to oblige his darling Alice. But this time, instead of sitting close beside him, she had asked him to sit sideways on the sofa with his legs atop it and she sat between his slightly spread legs and leaned against his chest.
Now she was asleep, her breathing soft and regular, her breasts rising and falling in a rhythm that was beginning to almost hypnotize Tarrant Hightopp. His eyes fixed helplessly on her cleavage and he wondered what it would feel like to cup his hands around those luscious globes and hear her moan and sigh. What would it be like to flick his tongue over her nipples and hear her gasp in pleasure and arch towards him, silently begging him for more?
Her skirt was just high enough to reveal several inches of alabaster flesh and now his thoughts took a direct and most deliberate turn to those lovely legs of hers. The urge, the extremely slurvish urge, to run his roughened hands up those legs to her dimpled knees, caress the soft backs of them, and then slowly, ever so slowly, creep higher, was so very appealing. By then he would have her melting beneath his touch and any fear she would have had would be completely overwhelmed by his loving and seductive caresses.
Of course he wasn't so certain of that. If he was he wouldn't be hesitating to touch her the way he wanted to; and the wanting was blossoming more and more into an insistent need. She sighed softly in her sleep and her head lolled sideways, just a little, and her cheek rested against his slightly unbuttoned shirt and now touched the fabric and some of his flesh.
Tarrant shivered at the contact, and her warm breathing stiffened his nipple; almost painfully so, and his heart-rate escalated. How could she not hear it? Tarrant felt it, and felt his growing need to touch her grow even more. His fingertips ached to touch her and, almost, but not quite of his own volition, he slipped off his thimbles and bared them all.
Gently, he told himself, do not wake her, you slurvish dog! He carefully placed his palms against her ribs and rested them there for a moment. Alice continued to breathe evenly. Slowly, he inched his palms upwards until they were just below her breasts. The lack of a corset now made his breathing pick up in pace, like a rapidly ticking stop-watch that was counting its seconds too quickly.
Tarrant, in time with her breathing, moved his hands upwards with each sweet exhalation until he hands were over those sweet peaches. Groaning softly, so softly, he pressed and curled his itching, aching fingers around them.
Alice shifted, leaning back against him slightly harder, as if encouraging his touch. Her breathing quickened just a little, then settled back into its regular rhythm. Her nipples hardened against the Hatter's palms and the tight little pebbles made him gasp involuntarily. He instantly silenced himself, but Alice did not stir. He moved his palms, ever so slowly, across them, enjoying the hardness of her rose-bud nipples against his work-rough palms.
The girl sighed and took a deep breath, pushing her nipples harder into his palms and it took all of Tarrant's self-control to not squeeze her breasts as he was so desiring, needing, wanting to! To squeeze them and rub those nipples until she was groaning and gasping his name! How would it sound coming from those lush, pink lips? Like a breathy sigh? A needful moan? A demanding request?
Tarrant took a chance, unable to help himself. The Need had been growing inside of him for too long. He caressed those malleable globes once more.
"Tarrant," she moaned softly, her eyelashes fluttering, but still she did not wake. She moved her head until it was over his shoulder, her breath now ghosting across his flushed cheek.
His fingers, his slurvish greedy traitorous fingers of his right hand were now at her knee, barely sliding beneath the hem of her dress. The pale flesh of her knee and lower thigh was so warm and inviting, like sunlight on the upturned face of a flower, and his fingertips grazed it lovingly and reverently.
It was a wonder that she did not awake! Yes, he had served Chamomile tea, and it was said to aid in sleep, but it wasn't a drug by any means! Was she truly so tired, Tarrant wondered. She could be, indeed. They had taken a long walk that morning and picked many berries and flowers. So, she could be. He just thanked the White for his Good Fortune.
His questing fingers moved higher, wisping her skirt aside as easily as steam wisped from hot tea, and her tender, maiden flesh welcomed him.
Alice moaned and her breathing deepened. Her leg turned from facing upwards to sideways, allowing him easier access to her inner thigh.
Tarrant, ye slurvish thin'! She's dreamin' an' yer takin' advantage! But...he could not stop. That Need, that dreadful aching Need was consuming him, now sweeping over his entire body like a cloak of desire that wrapped him in its folds, not willing to allow him the smallest chance of escape.
Buh ye don' wan' te escape, dew ye? he thought, with only a tinge of guilt. No, he didn't. He continued to tenderly caress her left breast while his fingers crawled slowly up her thigh, further and further, over her pantalettes and to her upper thigh now. He could no longer feel her flesh due to that selfish clothing women had to wear!, so he traced his fingertips over the cotton and up to where the slit of those damnable things attempted to conceal her most intimate delights from him.
"Tarrant," she breathed, huskily this time, opening her legs just a little more, unconsciously inviting him in to her secret valley of womanly desires.
Tarrant began to shake. Did he dare? If he did and she awoke, what would he do? What could he say? Would she hate him? If she did, could he convince her to forgive him? After all, he was a man who loved and needed her! Maybe...maybe she would understand.
He had to know. Even though one mind screamed for him to stop, another mind prodded him to move onwards. To find out once and for all if she could see him as more than a friend, or worse, a brother.
Taking a deep, shuddering, extremely wanting desiring needing breath, he slid his fingers inside the cotton slit and felt her soft damp curls for the very first time outside of his tormented dreams. Oh, the dewy dampness! She...or a part of her, wanted this! Her own body was telling him so! Even though that was not an open invitation to continue to 'maul' her, he couldn't help himself.
Tarrant flicked his thumb back and forth over her delightfully hard nipple and the fingers of his other hand stroked her dewy wetness, gradually probing deeper until he felt the slick moistness of her soft, maidenly petals.
Alice's back arched, her breathing beginning to sound laboured, and she moaned his name again. Tarrant gritted his teeth as his semi-erect cock hardened into a full-fledged erection. The sweet young woman between his legs wriggled a little, her backside rubbing him until he felt the first drops of pre-cum. No! He couldn't... He had to control himself!
Ye've already lost yer control, stupid lad! his mind retorted; and he knew that he had. Touching her as he was; he was already lost. Her increased wetness only urged him to take even greater liberties. As Alice began to writhe against his fingers Tarrant's root throbbed with excitement at her response.
His fingers traced up and down her wet slit, circling her opening. When he inserted the tip of his finger inside he felt her tightness. Why...why was he surprised? Of course she was a virgin! He was the first one to ever touch her in such a fashion but he...he couldn't feel guilty! Tarrant's masculine pride positively preened with delight at being the first man to touch her thusly; and if he could win her love, he would also be the last.
Alice moaned again and pushed her pelvis against him, driving his finger deeper inside of her.
"Ah, lass!" he groaned, trying to control his own imminent release and also desperately hoping that she wasn't on the verge of waking up. "Tarrant, stop it!" he said, feebly hoping the sound of his voice would prevent him from continuing to take advantage of the lass.
It didn't work, of course. He began to move and flex his finger inside her and added his thumb to the sensitive nub above her entrance. Alice gasped and he circled the bundle of nerves until she was panting. She bucked and writhed some more and then her entire body stiffened. Tarrant knew he had done it! The girl was climaxing and as she shuddered and cried out incoherently with the aftershocks of her pleasure, he shivered violently and came inside his slacks.
Nice, ye bleedin' idiot! Nauw ye got te change yer drawers...
He didn't care! He had given Alice the first orgasm of her life! Even though she was asleep...
"Tarrant?" He heard his name whispered softly, yet unmistakably, by a voice that was very much awake and aware.
"Alice! Ah...Ah'm sew sorreh...Ah could nae help mehself! Ah..."
"Tarrant," Alice said, pushing her head back against his shoulder and looking up into his face, "what took you so long?"
Tarrant was shocked to his core. "Wha'...Alice?"
"The man is supposed to make the first overtures to the lady," she said, stroking his thigh, "and I've been waiting for ages. What took you so long?"
Too stunned to speak, Tarrant remained silent, his lips moving, attempting to form words that would not come. Alice smiled and placed her hand over the one that he had stilled on her breast.
"Tarrant, I didn't ask you to stop!" she said with an impish smile.
"Dih ye..." he finally choked out, "dih ye...luv meh?"
"Yes, you silly goose! I have for the longest time, but you were being quite...quite..."
"Stupid?" he supplied helpfully.
She burst into laughter and turned over to lay atop him. "Yes, quite!"
Tarrant's resulting grin had never been so wide. "Ah'll admit tha' one! Ah luv ye, Alice!"
"Then do as I say and don't stop!"
"Whar were weh?" he asked huskily, his eyes changing to an eager green and gold.
Alice kissed him full on his lips. "Let's just start here," she said, tracing a finger along his crimson mouth.
"Aye, anythin' fer yeh!"
I hope you enjoyed this small story that has nothing to do with anything, really! All comments are welcome.