Hard to Believe
By Sweetprincipale
Part II: Improbable Numbers
Drummer had money. Scads of it from Farrah Black and Dirk and Todd. They odd-jobbed for them in the midst of doing their own work, the work of righting paranormal, interdimensional issues. They didn't need to live like homeless hippies. They could easily afford to set up a home base somewhere, but… the road was home enough.
"A couple of nights here wouldn't hurt," Amanda sighed.
"Universe always puts you where you need to be, right, Boss?" Vogel smiled up at her with childish affection before batting a beer can off the curb and getting a perfect hole-in-one into the hotel's outdoor fountain.
"I guess so. Try to look slightly less vandal-ish while I get us a room."
Amanda returned in several minutes, looking pissed. "Will the van start? The universe can't count."
"Whatsa matter, Drummer? Don't take cash?"
"They take cash. They don't allow more than three people in a double room. That's all they have left, two double rooms. There are five of us, four guys, one girl, you do the math."
Gripps obligingly did the math, just not the math Amanda meant. "Yo, a 12-by-24-foot rectangular pool with an average depth of 5 feet holds approximately 10,800 gallons of water. That's one hell of a cannonball!"
"Yeah!" Cross let out a wild yell. "Cannonball, baby!"
Amanda looked at Martin.
"Drummer, since when do we play by the rules? Book the two rooms, one for us, and one for you. Vogel can sit with you in your room for a bit, and then hang out with us. What's the stuffed shirt at the desk going to say? No visiting?"
"You're right. Wow, it'll be weird to have my own room. Man, I don't know if I can even go to sleep without all of you snoring and muttering."
"I don't snore!" Cross bellowed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"I snore," Gripps admitted easily.
"I talk. All the time," Vogel spiked another can into the fountain.
"Sorry 'bout that, Drummer," Martin shrugged.
"You don't snore. Sometimes you make a very gentle sighing sound. It's kind of pleasant, really," Amanda hastily reassured Martin.
Was it just her, or did he look pleased by her weird compliment?
Night fell. All day, Martin talked to the van, tinkered with it, and got it to do nothing more than one half-hearted start, just enough to let them know the van wasn't dead, just sleeping.
They ate meals that Amanda brought back from the strip mall across the street. Everyone enjoyed the basic luxuries, a really good shower, television with mindless drivel, and of course, the pool.
"Aren't you coming to swim?" Amanda asked the Rowdy's leader, coming to squat down beside him as he worked in the parking lot.
"Can't make it run. Feel like I shouldn't be swimming when I could be fixin' the problem," he grunted as he rose, stretching his back.
"The universe is saying stay put. And also- swim. Seriously, I've never seen the trio swim before. Am I going to need to break up water fights or save someone from drowning?"
"Nah," Martin wiped his face with an oily rag. "I'll be there in a bit, Drummer. Have fun. Wait. Do the guys have suits?"
"Got some while I got lunch," Amanda held up a purple one piece and tossed Martin a pair of black trunks. "Okay?"
"Okay."
How many times had they crashed in places where there was no privacy? Where turning one's back had been the only rule for getting dressed, or even "use a different tree" when nature called miles from civilization and gas stations?
That little purple number on her… his heart hammered foolishly.
He's pale. That black is going to accentuate every ridge of muscle, and he's got plenty of muscle. Of course, it's not like I did that on purpose, no. Everyone got basic black trunks. It's what was cheap and had lots of sizes. No big deal. Totally not picturing him soaking wet, little beads of water running down his chest, trailing down to his waistband.
Stop! Get a grip, Amanda. They see you as a sister. A friend, family.
Martin hung back as Amanda left, her energy feeling distinctly rocky. The van huffed loudly, making him jump and drop the large wrench that was most often used as a club, not a tool. "You wanna say somethin'?" Martin grunted at it.
More than you know. The van whined softly before it settled into stubborn mode once more.
Martin stared at it. This van wasn't ordinary, that much he knew. How special was it? Maybe he was just starting to find out. "All right, then. Universe wants us here to do somethin'- give me a clue as to what it is. Drop Dirk Gently outta the engine block. It happened before, out of a car's trunk in a damn tree."
The van did nothing.
Martin spiked his already disheveled mowhawk in frustration. Being on the road, solving problems was a good distraction from the increasingly difficult problem of being in love with his best friend. He turned away, ready to go inside and scrub off the oil and grease before heading to the pool.
The van let out a series of taps, "Ratta-tatta-ratta-tatta- psst- ching!"
Martin spun on his heel, "What'd you say?" he blurted, not caring if he sounded crazy, asking a van to repeat itself. He'd been called crazy all of his life.
Obligingly, the van repeated the unmistakable mimicking of a drum.
We're here for Drummer. Martin's chest tightened. What if someone knew what she could do? Was she in danger?
Well now. That'd be a feast. A dark, wolfish smile played over his lips. Anyone who tried to hurt their girl would be a puddle of twitching flesh on the ground, energy emptied, possibly never to return.
"Roger," he gave a quick salute to the van and strode into the hotel.
He told Amanda first. She looked at him skeptically.
"The van 'drummed'?"
Martin nodded, smoke curling lazily from the cigarette in his tight lips. "Reminded me of you, beatin' away on the set in your old garage."
"The Universe wants me to be pampered at a Best Western?"
"The Universe wants us here. It has to do with you."
Amanda stood up, white hotel robe open, showing off the purple one piece. "Take me to the van."
Martin nodded. He told the dirty thoughts about taking her to the van, to the floor of it, where they (already conveniently half-dressed) could do a few things- to get out.
"Why are we here?" Amanda's voice was pointed, but gentle. She put her hands on the hood and drummed softly with her fingertips. She chuckled, "What, you'll talk to Martin, but not to me? I can walk between dimensions and portal jump through a puddle, you know."
"Listen to her," Martin called, sitting in the driver's seat with the door open.
The van let out a long howling sound.
Amanda jumped back, eyes wide.
"Damn transmission's goin'!" Martin hopped out, his complimentary robe unfastened, showing Amanda a long torso full of muscles, ridges, and more than a few scars from the last fight, that would heal miraculously with a feeding or two.
"Did you do that?"
"Make it talk? No way, Drummer Girl. Can't make it do anything right now."
"That wasn't the transmission then. It was a howl."
"We're here to help wolves? I don't think they have wolves in - where are we? No matter. Suburbia don't have wolves."
"You're the wolf," she punched his shoulder. "You howl like that."
"Oh. Yeah, I do. So whatever we're here for is about you an' me."
The words came out without thinking. You and me. He loved the sound of it. Right now, it wasn't about sweet romance, though. He pushed his glasses back in place.
Amanda's ribs felt like they shrank two sizes. Hearing him say those words, even in this context, made her feel stupidly giddy. No time for that. "Okay, so. Maybe you and I are supposed to help someone. Or someone is looking for us, and Cross, Gripps, and Vogel will be kept out of- whatever this is."
"Can you get any readings on it?"
"Not without a vision. You 'smell' anything?"
"Not yet." He could only smell her energy. Powerful, sweet, best meal in the universe. His mind replayed snippets of that horrible conversation, a snide voice warning a scared teen about sucking out souls with kisses. I never hurt her before. Helped her. Drummer's got energy to spare… "Whatever has to happen, ain't happenin' yet."
"Let's tell the others."
They reacted with a mixture of fear, excitement, and anger.
"We're on vacation!" Vogel whined, punching a plastic beachball.
"Who gonna mess with our people?" Gripps ripped a foam pool noodle in half.
"I hope there's twenty of them! Five for each of us! I'm starving for some fear!" Cross punted the beachball across the length of the pool.
"What do we do, Martin? Boss?" Vogel demanded.
Martin put aside thoughts of love and lust for the moment. Keep his pack safe. "Drummer and I will bunk in one room. Whatever's coming, has to do with us. One of you keep a watch on the hall. If anything comes our way, you three come and kick its ass."
"That's the plan?" Amanda asked.
Martin looked at her over the rims of his black frames. "Bad?"
"Perfect, actually. I think between us, we can handle most stuff."
"Don't hog it all!" Cross dove under and resurfaced. "Save some bad guys for us!"
"Could be something good. It has been before. Maybe you're going to help someone. Someone rich would be cool!" Vogel dove after Cross.
"Marco!" yelled Gripps.
"Polo!"
Amanda laughed. Martin smiled.
"I love this life," she sighed.
"Yeah? Me, too," he grinned at her and found her coming to lean against him in the water.
Naked arm to naked arm. Shoulder to wet shoulder.
This is good. His head slowly fell to rest on hers, her smiling up with those big, warm brown eyes.
Those ice blue eyes, with hot springs underneath, warming her up with the crooked grin, rough edge of his beard touching her cheek. This is going to be a good day, she thought, whatever happens next.
"This. Is. Boring!" The guys didn't destroy without a purpose anymore. They destroyed with a purpose, and made what Amanda called, "negligible havoc." Right now, they were jumping from bed to bed, a pillow fight in progress.
Amanda took a swing at Cross. "You could always be getting captured by Blackwing."
"Boring is AWESOME!" All four men yelled, and suddenly, Martin was fighting, too.
They'd left the pool, watched television, ran around the local park, eaten a take-out dinner at the picnic table in the park, and this was the end of the evening. Ever since Wendimoor, the four seemed less destructive and more focused. Maybe it was being able to feast on an army. They had been kept malnourished by Blackwing as youngsters, and again as adults, before Amanda rescued them.
If a few hotel rooms, scrap yards, and vacant lots made the occasional sacrifice, Amanda decided she was okay with that. She perched on the armchair and then lunged into the air with a warcry, taking Gripps down in an explosion of feathers.
Lamps and nightstands toppled but didn't break. Springs creaked as bodies flew from one double bed to the other.
Finally, after Cross managed to put his fist through the cheap wooden headboard, the party wound down. Vogel curled up in a nest of split pillows and promptly fell asleep. Cross, revved up on pain and boredom, said he'd take the first watch. Gripps had found the cooking channel and was now raiding their supply of snacks while yelling at the screen.
"Comin', Drummer?"
"Yeah," she ruffled Vogel's hair, kissed Cross's cheek and the top of Gripp's head. It wasn't uncommon for her to give these sisterly/motherly affections to the boys. They had begun to welcome them.
She and Martin walked down the hall together, his long, loping stride shortened so he fell into step with her. "Gonna have to hope the van works in the morning," he said.
"Why?"
"Run out before they charge us for pillows and the bed. An' whatever else them boys break tonight."
"Just the boys, huh?" she teased, letting them into her room. "We're not planning to get wild and do any damage?" Oh. That sounds… well, I'm sure Martin will just laugh that off and challenge me to drunken TV tossing or something like that.
"What'd you have in mind, Drummer?" Martin asked in a low voice, shutting the door behind them, sliding the deadbolt in place, pushing the chain across the latch.
"N-nothing," she stumbled over words, watching him lock out the world. We've been alone together before. Don't make a big deal. Her face didn't get the memo.
Martin leaned against the door, taking her in. Her eyes were wide, face a shade paler, and her movements jerky. The terrible truth hit home so hard that he didn't even try to find a tactful way to say it. "You afraid to be alone with me?"
His heart twisted hard. He'd known so much pain, caused so much pain. This was one of the top three. "You have to know that I'd never-"
"Martin, you ass! No, I'm not afraid to be alone with you, I love - having some time alone with you!" She punched his bicep, hugged him, and smiled into his eyes. The smile slowly faded when she read the deep hurt that was taking time to clear. "Oh, Martin! How could you think that? You- you're my best friend. You're always there for me. You've saved me so many times."
"Not more'n you've saved us. You're my best friend, too, Drummer Girl," he concluded gruffly.
"Then what?"
"Looked scared when I locked the door. Keeping the bad guys out, in case they do come callin'."
"Not at all!" she protested. He arched one eyebrow. "Okay, not scared. Maybe a little… nervous."
"You know I'd never, ever-"
"I do know that." She was still on his chest. Instead of pulling back, she leaned in. A hug that they both could use. Only she didn't want it to stop, so she decided just to show him how little fear there was (zero). She'd could revel in holding him all night, but she was ready for him to push her off in a minute.
Her warmth was pulling him to a dangerous place, but he didn't stop traveling. His arms went around her back. Tousled in her hair. Found his fist idly wrapping through it.
Her hands wandered his back. His sides. This isn't hugging. This is… exploring. Hm, I have gotten adventurous in the last year or so.
Martin was quiet. Still. Loving what was happening, afraid it would end. Her hands on him, the best sensation in the world, feeling nibbles of her energy darting around him, penetrating him. He could only imagine what it would be like if they were more… connected.
Eventually, I have to stop. Pawing him like this is weird. Why isn't he telling me to back off? Why aren't I stopping?
He let go of her hair. The hand came to rest on the back of her neck, skin to skin, and she looked up at him suddenly, eyes huge, not scared. Startled, uncertain, and above all, hopeful.
Not good with words, Martin thought, as his hand lifted off, moved her hair away, stroked it, and moved to run a silver-ringed knuckle down her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into the warmth of his hand. "Like that, Drummer?" he asked softly.
"Mmhmm."
We are best friends. Strong, confident, empowered, freakish people. We should be able to talk this out! Amanda thought angrily. But touching was better. Would be so much better if he wasn't plastered to the door. She stepped back, not far enough to break the contact. He didn't move to follow her. She stepped back more, letting his hands fall from her body, while she kept hers on his shirt.
A watchful wolf, waiting. Surveying the territory and the risks. Feeling her hands curl into the fabric and pull. He came with her instantly, arms hovering and then wrapping, enfolding. She snuggled into him immediately, and his heart punched his throat, beat it up until it coughed out words, "You -uh- you okay, Drummer?"
So they weren't the best words ever, but he hadn't done this before.
"I am very, very okay. How about you?" Amanda asked.
"The best I've ever been," His hands given freedom by her words, began to do more than pet her soft hair, her beautiful cheek. Held her arms and slowly, firmly stroked down, as her arms glided up. The moment when they'd been reunited in Wendimoor came rushing back, and he picked her up, held her off the ground, and buried his face in her hair, his arms around her like he would never let go.
"Never let you go," he breathed out the words before he could stop them.
"Promise?" she whispered, lips to his temple.
"Promise, Drummer. If that's what you want."
What were they saying exactly? Didn't matter. They didn't often deal in exacts. "I want you. Always."
He didn't howl. He growled, a happy, hungry growl, and he kissed her pale pink lips.
Yes! Fireworks lit up her mind as she kissed him back, hard, eager, reckless. Carless but caring, she thought as his knees hit the back of the bed and they went down.
"You got me, Drummer," he flung his arms out on the bed, while she sat on his lap, looking down and giggling.
"Mmhmm. I see that," she bounced on him lightly, teasingly, the victor of this game.
He made a needy sound that neither expected, and Amanda realized why. Her spread hips bouncing on him revealed that she'd gotten him, and gotten him hard, in both senses of the word.
"I'm sorry," they both said softly, cheeks in different states of flame. She went to move off, and his relaxed arms were suddenly up, hands in an iron grip around her elbows.
"You don't gotta apologize. We never have to-"
"Really thoughtless of me, I didn't ask if you wanted to-"
Their words tumbled over each other and ground to a halt.
"I know we don't have to," Amanda looked down at her hands. "Unless you want to."
"Unless we both want to," Martin clarified, voice firm.
"Exactly," she nodded hard, meeting his eyes. His grip relaxed. She moved off swiftly, but moved to the side of the bed, the invitation to join her unmistakable. "More comfy all the way on the bed."
Martin pulled himself up beside her, lying on his back, and then quickly on his side when he realized how obvious his erection was, even through tight gray jeans.
Amanda swallowed. She'd fooled around before, second, third base, heading for home. And then ants were crawling on her. Another time, red hot liquid was pouring on her hands. Nothing real, just the attacks that warped reality. The attacks began to come more frequently the older she got, and dating stopped. Drunken van rides and basement clubs became a thing of the past.
But now, if she had an attack with Martin, he'd simply stop the attack. "This is going to be amazing," she whispered, half to herself. The first time would be with her best friend, the man she loved, the man she knew she'd spend the rest of her life with. Their destinies were tangled up, and that couldn't be undone.
His throat was tight. "You're amazing," he whispered. If the energy overwhelmed him, she'd shut him down, her pupils changing from dots to irregular stars as she flipped the dimensions on their heads. Able to feed him and stop him before it became a frenzy. If it even would. Who knew how many lies Blackwing had told to keep them in check?
But Amanda ought to know the risks. "Emotion makes energy," he said.
"Then I guess for an 'energy vampire' you don't need the cigarette afterwards?" she stroked his beard and poked his cheek to see his smile emerge.
"I don't know. Never made it to afterward. Hrm. Never made -" he wasn't good at soft words. But Drummer brought out whatever talent he had, "never made love 'cause I was locked up lotta the time when I was younger, then running. Blackwing had this 'counselor'. Told all of us that- that we'd hurt the person."
Amanda sat up. "That is bullshit. Bull. Shit. You never would. You could have 'hurt' me from the beginning, and you've always saved me. You love me. I mean-" she stopped, biting her lip.
He sat up, too. "Yes, I love you. I love you so much it hurts to think about hurtin' you at all. All the other guys you've been with would never-"
"Never been with a guy. Like this. Well, not like I hope we… I never made love either. My first serious boyfriend at the end of high school looked like the one. That's the year I got diagnosed with pararibulitis. I scared him off. Had an attack when we were fooling around and never finished. After that, things have been casual, or nonexistent. I guess the Universe was waiting to put us together."
A pause.
"Oh!" Martin's typical squint opened wide in realization.
"How'd the van even know?" Amanda gasped.
"Been around energy readers and eaters for years. Maybe it started to pick up on some energy of ours."
"Oh yeah?" Amanda leaned playfully over him, dark hair tickling his cheek. "How long have you been giving off 'signals'?"
Martin caught a whisp and twirled around his finger. "Hmm. Well, I knew there was something magical 'bout you when I saw your picture when I was trashin' your brother's apartment."
The exchanged a look. He didn't apologize. She didn't ask him to. Moving on, he continued, "I loved hangin' out around you, crazy stranger," he recalled the days when she had sat in their van, being with them, unaware of her power, and not afraid of theirs.
"I loved that, too, crazy stranger," she kissed his cheek lightly.
"Think I realized I was in love with you when I thought I- might never see you again," he concluded gruffly.
Amanda blinked. "It's a tie. When we were on the run, and I wanted to talk to you more than I wanted to talk my parents, or Todd, or anyone. I thought, I can't love him now. Too risky. I might lose him and never see him again. "
"Well, things ain't gotten much less dangerous, Drummer."
"Yeah, but I realized loving you makes my life better. Even if you don't feel the same."
Martin was a whirl that made her gasp, a sudden grab, bringing them nose to nose, both sitting on the bed now. His hand hard on the back of her neck and his voice a growl. "I love you, Amanda. Ain't nothing going to change that. Risks, danger, none of that shit."
Amanda shivered at the hard grip, a very good shiver that made her start wondering how the next few hours were going to go. She growled back, "Good. I love you. Nothing changes that."
Martin felt a familiar rush. It was like when they would scent the big battle coming, and senses were spiraling, but this was way better.
She loves me. She wants to. The rest- rest is gonna come naturally.
The hard grip turned into a hard kiss, biting, bruising kisses, two people who'd been starving, finally full.
"Okay?" Martin breathed between her throat and her shoulder.
"So beyond okay," Amanda gasped pleasurably, clutching him equally tight. Waiting so long… She felt a quiver inside her spine, something starting to go out of phase. "But-"
"I got you, Baby," he followed her gaze. It was fixed on her forearm. "What's there?"
"Snake. Big. Can't materialize it in this world- don't want to either," Amanda squeaked as the apparition hissed and coiled back to strike.
"Give it to me, Drummer," he held her arm, leaning over her, and breathed her in. Taking the fear, taking the pain of the attack, feeling little hints of pleasure that were there previously, hints trying to reassert themselves.
She watched blue-silver mist fly out of her chest and into his mouth. "Better?"
"Better," she assured him. "Sorry. I hope that doesn't happen whenever I - whenever we try to - y'know."
"It's okay if it does. We can call it an appetizer for me. Maybe help me keep up with you," Martin joked, but he hoped that she would know what was behind it. If the rush of emotions she felt was like what he felt- couldn't be helped. If those overwhelming tidal waves equalled attacks, couldn't be helped. Didn't make her less.
"It's not fair to you to have to-"
"You know what you deserve, Drummer? Someone who won't mess this up for you. But you get me."
"But all I want is you," she wiped her eyes, slightly damp from too much emotion and sudden stress.
"An' all I want is you. Which is what we got," he smiled at her. "All good."
"All good," she replied. "And you won't mess up."
His shoulders moved restlessly. "I wish I could make promises, but-"
"Hey. As long as it's us, we can't mess up. We're already a mess, right?"
She was afraid they'd lose the fire, with her attack and his odd moments of worry. She shouldn't have worried. If there was one thing Martin excelled in, it was fire.
"Let it all go," she whispered out loud, eyes closed, head tipping back.
Let it all go. Dangerous idea. Safe person to try it. "Yeah, Drummer Girl. You, too."
She pulled his glasses off and put them on the nightstand with a clatter. He left kisses through her shirt, moving down the thin white fabric as his hands slid up it. With a mutual fumble and tug, her shirt pulled off, followed by his thin black one. "Drummer, you are beautiful," he whispered reverently.
Her skin radiated with delight at his compliments, and she wanted to return them, but she couldn't. She had to keep her mouth shut to stop the drool escaping. The view of him in trunks earlier was nothing compared to the hands-on display. Every piece of him smooth except for a sparse dark v of chest hair, every line and scar was part of a puzzle that was the man she loved. She had to assemble that puzzle, touching every part of him.
Shit, her touch felt good. And touching her was equally nice. Her hips bucked up, and he ran his palm over the silky skin of her stomach. Her hands came up to his belt and tugged.
Ooh. He didn't know why that little tug of leather made him lunge into her with a new possessiveness, new passion, but it did. Wolves don't like leashes. Time to be unchained.
Amanda moaned appreciatively at what sprang into her hand, at the same time wiggling her jeans off with Martin's insistent pushing.
"Just perfect," he growled at the sight of curls and spreading legs.
"Martin's always packing," Amanda couldn't help but make a corny joke to break down the amount of urgency she felt. Nicely shaped, the perfect size, and she found it ridiculously sexy that the thin dark hairs surrounding it had their own blonde streak.
"Drummer…" he head-butted her lightly on the collarbone and they shared a mischeivious staredown, chin to chin, legs beginning to scissor. "Let's get this out of the way," he murmured, reaching back and undoing her bra.
Perfection fell out. Not too big, not too small, with natural bounce and upturned nipples the color of her lips. "You are an effin' vision," Martin couldn't put it into words how gorgeous she looked just then, waiting for him like that.
"I have some, sometimes," she stroked her fingertips down his torso and went lightly up his erection, earning a soft, guttural howl. "Like?"
"Hell, yeah," he closed his eyes and opened his hand, fondling one breast and then bending to engulf the other in his mouth. Amanda squeaked and her hips bucked. He wanted to ask her what she liked. But she might not know. He wanted to tell her what he wanted, but he already had it. Her.
Let's do what we do best. Make it messy and take things as they happen. Whatever happens, Drummer's gonna be with me tomorrow.
I found a sex god, Amanda's eyes were rolling back in her head as he knelt next to her on the bed. The view alone of the naked, sculpted body would have made her weak in the knees. But it was only for a second she was admiring the view because then he bent his head and sucked each nipple in turn. Not just a little lip service on the way to his own pleasure, but a deliberate milking with his tongue and lips, squeezing her tips and then nibbling, cascading to a sharp bite and gentle nuzzle. Her hand reached out and clumsily found his cock, stroking it with more surety when he breathed out a, "Oh, fuck yes."
"What are you doing?" Amanda winced when he pulled away from her breasts and her hand.
Martin was simply going to the end of the bed and sliding up it. "I've been tasting you for months, Drummer," he winked. "Time for dessert."
"Oh my God. Oh my GOD," Amanda felt his tongue plow into her hungrily without finesse, but with plenty of energy. Her thighs quivered and locked together in spasms of pleasure, but Martin raised his head and growled.
"Not done yet," he firmly planted his beringed fingers into the softness of her legs, and held them open. When she whimpered, he let go, full of sudden doubt. Was this how it started? Losing control, wanting a bit more than they could take and- No. "Sorry, Babe. Too rough?"
"It's so good. It's hard to- stay open," Amanda panted and reached for his hand, fingers tangling at her navel.
"Here, try this," he lifted her slender calves over his shoulders.
"Don't stop," she begged.
"No intention," he drawled, and resumed splitting her open with his tongue. He wasn't experienced himself. But he knew things, had seen a few moments of adult movies that he quickly disliked, seeing as they pent him up and he was in no position to reenact what he'd seen, aside from the bad energy he got from them, with the fake noises and the questionable intentions.
But Drummer wiped all that out of his head. It was natural with her. You dove in deep. You listened for the noises. She tasted like all his favorite things, sweet, salt, happiness, and hunger. She made him high like a nictone rush, made him relax like smooth Kentucky bourbon.
After five minutes of dedicated lapping on the outside and even the inside, he looked up at her face, waiting for her to look down at him. Her eyes and her noises were his roadmap and he couldn't afford to get lost so close to home. Easy… His forefinger pressed into the slick, spasming walls while he watcher her watching him. Watching her eyes go wide as made himself home inside of her. His cock throbbed and leaked from the moans she made, the way her eyes sparked and the pinkness trapped his finger. "Tight," he kissed her clit gently, then ran his tongue over it while the finger probed, pushing deeper, listening for an uptick in breathing when he found good spots. Apparently, they were all good spots.
"Ready, sweetheart?" He realized maybe he wasn't doing the right thing, what'd she'd been waiting for. Foreplay could always come on the next round.
"No, no," Amanda held him off with a shake of her head and frantic handwave that sent him backing up hurriedly. His mouth opened in a question, and she sealed it, lavishing her tongue on his, stealing her own nectar.
Damn, my woman is hot. And mine. He couldn't wipe the possessive leer off his face.
"Lay down," she breathlessly urged.
She wants to be on top. Makes sense. She can control how hard and fast things go 'til she gets used to it. Don't want her sore.
But Amanda kissed his lips with finality and straddled him- only to slide down.
"Oh sweet Jesus," Martin let out a groaning prayer when he realized what she was doing. Of course she was. My girl is perfect. She gives as good as she gets.
Amanda had attempted this clumsily with Mr. Serious-High-School-Boyfriend. Unsure of herself, she had no idea if she'd been good, or the guy was just excited because hello, blowjob. But with Martin- she was going to take him on the ride of his life and he was going to love it and think she was perfect, because he already thought that. This was just the icing.
"Goddamn!" the roar ripped out of him without preamble when she gave him one flick of her tongue and then engulfed him in her sweet mouth, now bobbing away on him with a devilish smirk. "Drummer…" a strangled wheeze as her fist wrapped around the base. His hands grabbed her hair and then her shoulder.
Martin's noises were her heaven, that feeling of deep contentment and reward- mixed with some pussy flooding lust. If he moaned like that in her mouth, she couldn't wait to hear the usually taciturn Rowdy let loose when he burried his long, hot hardness in her pussy. He'd certainly made her moan a few moments ago. And she'd practically exploded on one finger, one rough, strong finger that was a fraction of his cock.
She groaned around him and he gritted his teeth to keep from popping like overheated champagne. So ready to cum, but needing to wait. He wanted the first time to be inside her.
"Hell!" Martin punched the mattress hard enough to make a spring snap.
"I'm sorry!" Amanda sat up instantly, wiping her wet lips and looking at his beautiful, glistening cock for signs of damage. "Teeth?"
Martin gave a shudder. "Absolutely, teeth," he smiled darkly, a hint of the badass shining through. "But that's not what happened."
"What, then?"
"Protection," he hissed, feeling like the biggest chump. Any man ought to have a stash of rubbers. He knew she wasn't on the pill. The could still have a wonderful time, but he felt like he was letting her down by not being able to provide the "full experience.".
Amanda hesitated. "I don't think that matters, Martin," she said softly. "If the Universe wanted us to have a baby, any protection would be wasted. Like Bart and loaded guns that won't shoot her, jail cells that unlock when she touches them. It's not time for us yet. So - no worries."
She said baby. Us have one. She said yet.
I said baby. Us have one. I said yet.
Amanda looked at him to see if he was scared off. He wasn't. "Could give you a kid like me. A freak," he warned, looking through her, not wanting to see the rejection that might come to the surface before she could hide.
"You could give me a kid like you. Handsome, heroic, smart, kind. Destructive, but hey... " she laid a hand on his arm. "I'd love our little freak. If you- that is- we-"
"Come up here and kiss me, woman," he pulled her up into his arms and laid her against his chest. He could feel the wetness between her thighs rubbing off on his skin. "Love you."
"I love you."
To Be Continued...