**WARNING: This is definitely an 'M'-rated story, as you may be able to tell from this first chapter. Coincidentally, this is also my first foray into story writing so please go easy on me.
He had her wrists pinned at the small of her back, so that her shoulders and head were forced down onto the sheets. Though his grip was forceful, it was not painful. From this angle, they could actually both enjoy a greater pleasure than before.
She had already come once at the start of their session, but in this new position she could imagine climaxing once more. He was thrusting over her insistently, his grunts coming through gritted teeth. His pace was slowly becoming irregular a sign that he was gradually losing control. She felt his fingers dig into the crux of her hip as he drew her lower body higher into the air. Wrestling one of her hands free, she rose onto her elbow to support herself. The hand that he had placed on her hip found its way to the bundle of nerves between her legs.
A cry escaped her lips as his hands circled her sensitive flesh in a frantic fashion while he continued thrusting. He was hitting a spot within her that had her insides on fire, and the force of his fingers against her proved that he determined to make her come again.
He was racing towards an end and dragging her along with him.
Without warning, she softly huffed as another orgasm took her. Her mouth was a silent 'O', and she gripped the sheets as heat coursed down her thighs.
As she came, he removed his himself from between her legs using his free hand to leverage her hips into a better position. From this angle he could take her deeper, stretch her further.
He couldn't hold on forever, and he knew his climax was a mere seconds away. She was writhing below him, the last waves of bliss washing over her. He heard her moan into the pillow saw her serene face against the pale gray sheets. It hit him then, the explosion of pleasure that began south and spread until he threw his head back letting out a low groan. His grip tightened and she moaned below him as he came buried inside her. He pumped a few more times, savoring the feeling of her beneath him. There was an ache in his shoulders, and he collapsed defeated over her entirely spent of energy.
In that moment pressed against her, he could smell the faint aroma of jewba flower oil on her skin. She had her eyes closed, and her hair was strewn across the bed like a streak of white light. He relished this fleeting moment, but as soon as he felt himself began to shrink he rolled over so that they were an arm's span apart.
She flipped onto her back as soon as his weight left her. Letting her head fall onto the down-filled pillow, she stared up at the ceiling as her breath came in quick gulps. He acted like this after every session. He would take to his side of the bed beyond her reach. She couldn't understand why he did this, but knew that it was not her place to ask. This was their routine.
Eventually, he would come back to her; but, only of his own volition.
These momentary lulls allowed her to collect her thoughts. A moment to settle down from the high that was sex with a very dangerous man. It had been like this for nearly four months. Four months he had visited her once a week, four months she had come to learn his little ticks. He was forceful in bed, as expected, but also exceedingly gracious. They had come to learn what fit them, mastered the movements they so enjoyed. He valued order and it was her job to accommodate him. Besides, she enjoyed pleasing him. Despite the monotony of their activities, it somehow always felt fresh and new – like every time she slept with this man, she was unlocking one of his secrets.
He wasn't talkative like the others had been. It was hard to imagine that there had been any others before him. Even though it had only been four months, her life before this seemed a distant memory. He demanded to be her one and only, and she had willingly complied. Everything had been topsy-turvy since his arrival into her life, but she didn't regret any of it.
He was her future, after all.
A hand on her forearm signaled his imminent approach. She gazed down to see him sliding across the bed towards her. His face was impassive as he wove himself around her. He buried his head into the crook of her neck, the unshaven whiskers on his cheek brushing roughly against her sensitive skin. She felt her own heart beat frantically in her chest. This was a new high, the post-coital bliss high. They said nothing as they lay there; his fingers gripping her mid-section reminding her of his dominance.
In the silence of the night, she heard his breathing slow down and she could sense his muscles relax as he drifted asleep. There, pressed against her, he slumbered as she stroked his hair. It was mused falling carelessly onto his forehead, a sharp contrast to his normally pristine coiffure. She preferred it this way knowing that she had been the one to cause it.
Eventually, she succumbed to her own fatigue and drifted into a dreamless rest.
Morning came soon enough, the orange light of sunrise creeping through the windows.
He was the first to stir finding himself cemented at her side. Untangling himself from her body, he took a moment to watch her sleep peacefully unaware of everything. He inspected the room noting his clothes folded neatly on a pedestal. The digital clock on the wall reminded him that he was running late.
She awoke moments later to find him sitting on the edge of the bed lacing up his boots. His shirt was unbuttoned exposing his pale chest molded by years of ruthless training regimens.
Naked and on her knees, she went to him slipping from the bed. Bowing before him so that they replicated the image of saint and savior, she gazed up into his green eyes waiting for permission. Silently, he gave his assent.
She made quick work of his buttons and ran her hands down the stiff fabric of his shirt willing away any creases. She enjoyed dressing him in the morning. It was an insignificant way to imprint herself onto him before he departed.
He did not look at her as she walked to fetch a hair comb from her bureau. She handed him the comb and watched in fascination as he swept it through his locks. They were not as pristine as he usually had them, but it was the best that she could offer him. He shrugged his black officer's coat on adjusting the fastenings in her full-length dressing mirror. With every piece of clothing he donned, he became more the military officer and less the man who had shared her bed. The former would always come before the latter. She was fully aware of this. She didn't really care, so long as everything remained to her benefit.
His crested commander's hat was the last piece of the ensemble, and she took the liberty of setting it on his head. There, that was it. Gone was the lover replaced by the austere General.
For a moment they remained still. He was staring at her with an impenetrable scrutiny that made her grow weak at the knees. Perhaps, he would do something novel like kiss her goodbye. She had yet to feel his lips against her own in the light of the morning. Only in the dark did she ever feel his lips against her own.
Sadly, nothing of that nature happened. Instead, he gave her one final glare, before whirling around and making for the door.
She watched him walk away knowing that she could do little to stop him.
As he was about to cross the threshold, he stopped and she noticed the profile of his white face against the shadowy background of the corridor. She held her breath enjoying the unexpected pause.
With his back still to her, he declared, "I will return in a week's time."
It wasn't a question, or a threat, it was simply a guarantee.
A faint smile graced her face as she answered, "I will be waiting, Hux."
He didn't need a response, she understood that. He was an officer, and she was his loyal soldier. It was understood that his commands were to be followed.
Her reply, however seemed to amuse him. There was a glimmer in his eye that she caught before he was gone in a flash of black; a shadow moving away from her. She was alone once more to count the moments until her freedom returned.
Could you imagine General Hux as a "gracious lover"? I sure as hell can, obviously. Will be updating soon.
**EDIT (2/19/2016): Sorry! I published the unedited version of this chapter with all of my lovely spelling errors. I hope you like this version more.