When our souls hide from us --
where do we search?
"Please, Spinelli," Maxie uttered against his lips. Part of her couldn't believe she was doing this, part of her knew she always would.
His hands slid slowly up her sides, taking a gentle care in the delicate silk shirt she was wearing. His hands were not meant to touch such materials, such girls, such beauty. He knew this was nothing more than breathing life into her. He knew he was simply solace in her turbulent personal storm.
"Maximista, you have no idea how much I want – how much I want to -"
"Then shut up," she breathed against his neck. Her lips traced up the pale skin, journeying from the base to the pulse just below his ear. She couldn't help but think that his skin tasted sweet as her tongue darted out from between her lips. His body shook under her hands as she pulled his shirt up and over his head.
Spinelli immediately felt shy as her eyes roamed his chest, and he tried to push down the blush that felt as if it was rising from his toes up. Her hands reached out and a finger circled his bellybutton, and he couldn't help the fond smile that graced his face. That touch was so out of place, so tender and not desperate which is what this really was.
Placing her lips on his shoulder she kissed down to the skin above his heart and looked up at him with big eyes. He was silently watching her, his hands dangling by his sides, caught in indecision. Caught between right and wrong. When would he learn there was no right, no wrong – just now.
"Spinelli, I need you," Maxie said as she rose up on her toes slightly and sunk her teeth into his shoulder. "I need you now. Please don't turn away from me."
"But -"
"I-" a kiss on his neck. "Need," his earlobe between her teeth. "You," her tongue sliding smoothly into his mouth.
He surrendered. Surrendered to the beautiful blond clinging to him as if he could restore her faith. Surrendered to her lips, the promise she would get what she wanted. Surrendered to the heartbreak that would be sure to follow this night when nothing changed. Surrendered to the fact that he could deny her nothing, never could and never would.
His hands traveled along her body once more to finally sink into her soft hair. His lips took control of the kiss as he guided her backwards to his bed, the Pink Fortress looking more red in the dark than ever. Spinelli's hands pressed her softly down onto the mattress as he followed, climbing on top of her.
Maxie sat up looking into his eyes. Eyes that had seen her at her best, at her worst, at times when she wished she was invisible. Eyes that made her feel like he really saw her instead of just another pretty face or passing scenery. His fingers began to fumble with her buttons, then he drew the shirt down her arms and she tossed it onto the floor.
He couldn't help but to drink in the image of her at that moment. The fabric of her bra against her skin, the hollow of her collarbones, her rising and falling breasts. Spinelli waited though for the almost imperceptible nod that she had not changed her mind, that there would be no turning back. Not tonight. He found the front clasp of her bra and popped it open, and felt his heart stutter at the picture she made.
Spinelli's fingers trailed down her skin leaving goosebumps in it's wake. She felt butterflies awaken in the catacombs of her stomach when he took her pink nipple between his fingers, cautiously rolling it. Maxie couldn't help the hitch in her breathing, the soft noises she made as her breasts grew heavy and aching from his ministrations.
"Oh. Spinelli, please," Maxie said tilting her head backwards, closing her eyes.
"Patience," Spinelli whispered harshly as he sucked her earlobe between his lips. He teased the skin with his teeth and trailed his tongue down the ivory column of her neck causing her to writhe impatiently. He kissed her shoulder, and the faint scar between her breasts. Then slowly, so slowly as if to drive her mad, he took her nipple into his mouth.
"Oh God," Maxie groaned. Spinelli felt her words to the core of his being. The fact that he could make her sound like that, so raw and needy, only caused him to grow harder than he thought possible. She sunk bonelessly into the mattress and Spinelli followed her.
He continued laving her breasts with attention until her nipples were hard and begging for mercy. Her chest was rising and falling faster than Spinelli had thought possible and her heart beating so hard he almost thought he should stop. But Maxie's noises drove him forward, the way she moaned and breathed so heavily. Her one hand was clenched in his already twisted sheets and the other was raking it's nails up his naked back.
"Get... ooh... get up here," Maxie demanded breathlessly. Spinelli's face suddenly came into view. There were no hints of the goofy boy she had grown to need more than possible. There was simply a man caught in desire, his eyes dark and never ending. And she was the one making him look like that. Placing her hands on his cheeks she pulled him down for a long kiss, trying to find what she needed. Trying to take what he was offering.
Spinelli's hands began to unbutton her pants, giving her no time to process the action, not that time would've changed anything. He pulled down her underwear with it, his hands sliding over her smooth skin. Her pants joined her shirt and bra on the floor and Spinelli kissed up her legs, his hands warming her already warm thighs.
Kissing around her bellybutton he looked up at her. Her back was slightly arched, her head pressed deeply into the pillows. He hoped they would now smell of her shampoo. He kissed lower, her stomach which was now caught quivering under his moistened lips. He moved lower again and felt Maxie freeze.
"Spinelli," she said with her voice unsure for the first time in the night. She knew what he wanted to do, knew how personal and vulnerable it was. And she was afraid.
"Maxie," Spinelli whispered kissing just above her hipbone. "Maxie, trust me. Okay?"
Maxie nodded and let her head fall back. Spinelli had never done this before, but was simply acting on instinct. He wanted to know her, to have her in the most personal way possible. He didn't want her to forget.
His lips brushed over the soft curls between her thighs. Suddenly her scent caught him, something earthy and heady, and for a moment he was dizzy, intoxicated on her. His tongue parted her pink, swollen flesh and he heard her whimper. It almost killed him, he almost finished right there but he dug his hands into the mattress.
Spinelli found her clit with his tongue and lapped at it. She tasted just like he always knew she would, just like how someone like Maxie should taste. Experimentally he gently nibbled on it and Maxie's hips jerked in response. Spinelli lifted his head to look at her. She was sweaty and panting, completely glorious. The base of her hands were pressed painfully into her eyes.
Maxie groaned and suddenly Spinelli came back to life. His tongue continued to rub against her, and soon a finger slipped inside of her. God, he had nice fingers. Maxie was moaning now, louder than before and she couldn't stop herself.
"Spin – Oh. Spinelli. God. Spin – Spinelli."
Spinelli could tell she was close, so close to finding her release. Her body was tensed, and she was incoherent more or less. He could feel her tightening on his fingers, her body responding to him. And suddenly the sensuality, the pure and completely fucking carnality of it hit him. He wanted so badly to follow her over the edge but bit down hard on his lip trying desperately to think of anything boring.
Finally Maxie imploded. Spinelli was caught in awe of every movement, every noise, every nuance of the moment. She had given him something beautiful, something no one could ever take from him, something he thought would never happen. And he tried to burn this image into his brain.
He rose over her as she was still trembling and nibbled gently on the place where her neck and shoulder meant. Slowly her breathing evened out and her eyes opened. Her hand moved down his body, snaking around his skin like a serpent until she reached his erection. She slowly ran her hand down the length of it and Spinelli hissed between his teeth.
He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head with one of his own. Blindly he fumbled around for protection which was somewhere inside one of his nightstands. Finally he found it, released her hands and rolled it on. When he gazed back up he saw that her hands had not moved from above her head.
"Are you sure, Maxie?"
"Now," she responded simply, her blue eyes blazing with an arousal, a connection she never thought possible to feel.
Spinelli entered her slowly, stroking her still sensitive walls and Maxie gasped, back arching. Her breasts were pressed against his chest and he could feel her heartbeat warring with his own.
"Does that feel good?" Spinelli whispered into her ear.
"Mmm. Don't stop, please," Maxie moaned. She didn't care if she sounded desperate or needy. He had seen her, all this time and he had seen her, had never turned away, had never denied her anything.
He continued thrusting slowly in and out of her, wanting to draw out the moment for as long as he could. This would never happen again, that much he was sure of. She would never need him like this again. He reached down between their bodies to rub her, and Maxie all but purred. Suddenly the seconds seemed to grow into minutes, the minutes to years and their bodies continued meshing, dancing, sliding, giving, taking until they could take no more.
Maxie and Spinelli laid spent and in awe of what they had just done. Their breathing still hitched and labored, their bodies sweaty and tired. The silence stretched on and grew heavy until Spinelli had to speak.
"Uh. Maxie-"
"Thank you, Spinelli. I felt like I couldn't – like I was going to -"
"I know," Spinelli said linking their hands.
"You brought me back," she whispered and kissed his lips softly as she went to gather her clothes and then slipped out of the room. Spinelli was left with nothing more than the knowledge he had saved her, loved her, and the scent of her shampoo which was indeed stuck to his pillowcase.