Lala-Kate requested a birthday drabble off of me: "Ok—you know you're one of my favorite people, but also one of my favorite writers. I've already tossed you one prompt. Will you take another in honor of my birthday? Just a drabble, dear…. Mary and ? ~ forced to share a bed (Your choice of bedmate!)
So a very belated birthday fic, that I could really only meet in my Modern AU M/M verse ( tagged/AU-mary-x-matthew). Which I think is now official as they are being assholes and eating my brain and heart and soul as they fill in details.
His arms were around her, pressing her even closer to him as his lips on her neck fanned the fire of her arousal only more. She squirmed back against him, desperate for more contact. Desperate for him not to stop.
Desperate to see who he was.
Her thoughts spiraled away as his hands roamed across her so confidently, knowing every weakness, exploiting each expertly. She turned in his arms, facing him, burying herself against him, letting the passion take over her, to throw all caution away and just give in. She had no idea who this was, but God, she wanted him. More than the physical need that was quickly building to a crescendo, she wanted this feeling of love, of safety, pure contentedness and rightness as she was lost in his touch. It was unlike anything she has experienced before and she would be convinced she was actually going mad from it if it wasn't for the fact that he seemed to be grounding her, holding her to him, to herself. His touch was everywhere on her, in her, and she was hurtling toward that release, that insane pleasure, and this mystery lover still wouldn't show his face to her.
The first shuddering tingles swept through her and she gasped, a name slipping from her lips the very moment she saw his face and fell over the edge of that passion and into….
Consciousness.
Consciousness punctuated with waves of pleasure coursing through her. She had no idea where or who she was, but she could still taste his name on her tongue.
Matthew.
And with it, reality came crashing back into her, stilling the aftershocks of her orgasm. She was pressed into his side, arm flung across his chest, legs tangled with his.
Shit.
The impending blizzard that had cancelled all flights. A scramble for a hotel rooms as hundreds of other travelers did the same. A single room available at the fourth hotel called. A single king room. No couch. No room for a cot. Both of them pushed to the brink after an exhaustive week of meeting potential overseas clients and spending more than twelve hours at the airport trying to find some way back to London that day. Angrily tossing a pillow across the center of the hotel bed when faced with their fate for the next day if not two as what was being dubbed a snowpocalypse bore down on them.
Where the hell that pillow was now, she had no idea, but this had to be Matthew her body had decided to wrap around. And have an erotic dream about.
Shit shit shit.
She somehow needed to move and not wake him. He was still sleeping, right? She tried to listen over the panicking thumping of her own heartbeat for his breaths. Slow and steady. Okay, this was good. Except her arm across him was trapped by his. Not to mention his legs under the heavy weight of his.
Eyes squeezed shut and breath held, she slowly started to slip her legs from his, telling herself she was not noticing how well-muscled they were. It was one thing for her subconscious to run rampant, but another to allow her waking brain to join in on the party. She started to roll away from his side, slipping her arm from under his ever so carefully, when her hand was caught in a firm embrace.
"Where do you think you are going?"
She went cold then flushed at the sound of Matthew's voice rising up next to her. He was pulling her tighter against his side, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. Panicked she was found out, she tugged to free her hand from his, her legs kicking to try and move farther away from him, but his grip was strong. Mortified, she felt the sting of tears start and she was determined not to let him see.
"Matthew, this isn't funny, let me go." She was surprised her voice was as steady as it was.
He seemed to start at her no-nonsense tone and immediately eased his hold on her, his arms coming up to lift away from her. "Sorry, I didn't mean —"
"Whatever," she muttered, scooting herself across the mattress, spotting that pillow that was slacking on its duty of being a border leaning precariously against the light on the night stand. She didn't want to think about what nocturnal gymnastics her subconscious had been imagining up. Ignoring the fact she was only in a tee and knickers, she slipped out from under the duvet and grabbed for the hotel robe she had left at the end of the bed, racing for the bathroom. She slammed the door, diving to turn the shower on, and sank down the wall to the cool tile, letting her embarrassment and humiliation slip down her cheeks until the bathroom began to fill with steam. Only then did she kick off her clothes and step under the hot water to try and chase away the icy-chill that had come over her.
Matthew blinked up at the ceiling, trying to steady his breathing as he listened to the steady thrum of water running in the bath. He should have been the one to flee to a cold shower. But he had been too confused, too stunned, thinking he was still asleep enjoying the feel of her in his arms, her silken skin and hot lips pressing against him.
It wasn't until she said something, tried to pull away from him that he had managed to wake up fully and realize what he had done. Shame burned across his cheeks.
His erection ached, and once more he wished he was the one standing under a stream of cold water. He had told himself for months this would only complicate things. They had known each other too long, now they worked together. And it was Mary. No matter what he did, it was clear he would always irk her and she would never fully trust him.
And it had been clear from the look of horror on Mary's face as she jumped from the bed that there was no making amends for this. For the damned attraction he had always had for her. Damned snow. Damned partnership. Damned inability to ever stop thinking of her.
Slightly shaking he reached for the television remote, desperate for distraction from revisiting the feel of her pressed against him, her thigh high up on his, dragging across him, so close to brushing …
He swallowed hard as he scrolled through channels, looking for a news or weather update, some promise of them getting the hell out of here today and back to life as usual at the office. Usual, though certain to be slightly more strained.
The pictures on the screen didn't bode well, and he glanced toward the eery light that seeped in through the clack in the blinds. Another day of cancelled flights, and them having to ride it out, trapped together.