Title: Dim Lights and Overgrown Trees
Notes: Set around late December/early January, before Leanne finds out.
"We shouldn't be doing this." She whispered, resting her forehead against his, her fingers absently tracing patterns across the palm of his hands.
He paused briefly, sighing. "I know..." He said, sliding his hands out of hers and bringing them to her face, the tip of his thumb slowly running over the slope of her flushed cheek.
It was wrong, inappropriate, totally forbidden. And yet, as they stood so close together, the room silent save for the soft, rhythmic, sound of their breathing, all they could think of was how incredibly right this was. So right, that as the small gap between them was bridged, their bodies pressed firmly against each other's, the harsh reality of the world outside ceased to exist and the room in which they stood became a cocoon. They were no longer that cheating scumbag and his heartless homewrecker. Simply Carla and Peter.
As their thoughts drifted from their minds, he gently pushed her back against the wall, her head coming to rest against the flowery wallpaper of a room stuck in a time warp; shades of pink and green littered around like dirty laundry. His hands moved ubiquitously, touching places that made her gasp for air, want to shout his name, before they settled on the skirt she'd purchased specially for tonight's date. He grappled with the soft fabric, inching the garment up her body until it bunched around her waist, the white cotton of her panties peaking out from below the hem contrasting with the black of her skirt.
His fingers slid up the inside of her bare thighs, her skin warming to his welcomed touch. She whispered words of encouragement, of affection, that forced once coherent thoughts to flee from his mind like a shadow at noon. Thoughts of how they'd spontaneously turned off the road into the driveway of a nondescript hotel, shrouded by dim lights and a trail of overgrown trees passed with every kiss, every touch. The way they'd rented a room under a pseudonym, hiding their illicit affair, vanished from Peter's consciousness as his name slipped from her mouth like a mantra. How he'd paid by cash, not card, the worn notes in his brown leather wallet only just covering the cost of the room, quickly slipped away as her hands snaked into his trousers and over the small of his back, where the smooth skin dipped and peaked like a the ripples of a wave.
The way his hands shook - ever so slightly - as he fumbled with the key in the door, because this was new, and exciting, and all kinds of wrong. And the words he wanted to say caught in his mouth like a man unable to speak because he was sure nothing that he felt could ever be completely expressed in words, only shown in actions.
They spoke very little, the soft noises they made - the gasps, the sighs – more than enough for the other to understand what they liked, what they wanted. How his fingers skirting over the nape of her neck, where the hair is like a whisper in the wind, made her hum his name ever so softly. Or how her teeth, nipping lightly at his lips, tugging at the flesh, made him want to shout her name from the rooftops and claim her as his.
His hands slipped lower, resting on her sides as he dropped to his knees like drizzle on a summer's day, the brown carpet rough against the thin fabric of his trousers. She gazed down at him, fingers threaded through the short strands of his hair as his lips left a trail of unspoken promises; kissing; licking; tasting the pale skin of her thighs. His hands travelled to her hips, the soft swell of her stomach barely visible beneath the rumpled fabric of her skirt, and hooked his fingers under the waistband of her panties. With his breath hot against her flesh, he slid them down her legs, the softest of moans slipping from her lips as he lost them to the empty expanse behind.
Carla's breath caught in her throat, eyes shut tight, as he nudged her thighs apart, his face dipping slowly between them, tongue snaking out and tasting what he'd secretly yearned for all weekend; flicking against her slowly; teasingly. She grasped his body for purchase, nails digging into his flesh, marking with crescents the taut muscles where shoulders met upper arms like roads at a junction. He sucked at her most delicate flesh, increasing the pressure steadily as her body responded with heightened sensitivity, hand returning once again to his head as she clumped the hair tightly within her palm, welcome leverage against feet that involuntarily inched higher and toes that curled.
"Peter..." She gasped into the air as her body arched, her head meeting wood again as he hit all the right spots, his fingers working in tandem.
She hid behind closed lids, body in freefall, mind scattered to the wind, as the sensation built from inside her so intensely that all she could think of was him; all she wanted was him. They spread through her slowly like ripples in a stream, touching her furthest points, her fingers, her toes, and making them tingle.
He slid back up her body as her breathing slowed, tenderly laying butterfly kisses across her fair skin as he worshipped her, his gift from the Gods. Lips brushed against her skin, sliding over the fullness of her cheek, mouths meeting once again as he clasped her hand within his, their fingers threaded as one. He shuffled slightly, turning his head and motioning towards the other side of the room with its empty spaces and sparse scattering of objects; a phone, a table, a dimly lit bed - its days numbered like a man on death row, sunken mattress and springs that creaked like the hinges on a rusty gate.
"Let me." She whispered, her free hand tugging at the waistband of his trousers with translucent intentions, capturing him like a spider within her web.
Her fingers grappled with the buckle of his belt, quickly releasing the leather strap and freeing it to the void behind them as it fell to the floor with muted noise. She gazed at him, eyes concentrated firmly upon his, as her fingers connected with the metal of his zipper, working it down slowly, the material slipping away from his waist as his fingers yanked at the leg of his trousers, his boxers falling in unison. His hands pulled against her thigh, tugging it off the floor, their bodies moving closer as he entered her slowly, her gasps enveloped by his mouth as their lips met; sucking, touching, tasting once again.
"Fuck, Carla." He breathed out huskily as she bit down on his lip, forcing her eyes to meet his as they silently spoke a thousand words, secrets spilling from the dark orbs like stars falling through the night sky.
He moved within her slowly, a ceaseless crescendo of noises, of gasps, of moans, the stuffy air around them filling their lungs with every breath. His hips rocked to an unknown rhythm, his heart providing the beat, as his hand desperately gripped her thigh, fingers etching their wishes and desires into her skin with every soft sigh that fell from her lips. She kissed him desperately as his hand snaked down between their bodies, his release nearing as the sensations within mounted, his heart rate increasing and muscles tensing as his fingers worked her delicate flesh, wordlessly urging her to join him.
They succumbed like a defeated army, their resolves finally broken, bodies shaking as they lost themselves in each other, breathing seemingly no longer a necessity but an afterthought. Their little world shattered into a thousand pieces like a supernova, powerful and all consuming, souls connecting as their bodies collided as though they were made to fit together like pieces in a puzzle, never complete without the other.
"I've missed you so much." She sighed, as the room came back into focus, the light-headedness subsiding as she buried her face into the crook of his neck, the slick sweat coating her skin like a second layer.
"I know, baby." He whispered, his arms circling her neck, protecting her within their cocoon. "I've missed you, too."