Dominance10
Moira hesitated, as John opened the door to his room. "Um, John, just give me my ow!"
John swatted her rear. "In." He followed her into the room, closed the door. Locked it.
She turned to him. Frowned. Held out her hand. "Beer."
He handed her one, after opening it for her. Opened his. "Sit." He indicated the bed. He strolled to it, sat. Took a long swallow of his beer.
Moira sipped. "Ugh! How do you get this down fast? I mean all at once."
He smiled. "Chug it, baby. Just don't choke."
"Thanks, sweetie." She drank, drank, grimacing with each swallow. John sipped his, watching her down half the bottle. She groaned, wiped her mouth. "God, that's awful!"
He laughed, but grew serious. "Sit. Talk."
She sighed. Moved to the table. Hoisted herself on it, letting her feet swing clear off the floor. "I don't want to talk, John. You see what happens when I talk. So no. No more melodrama." She sipped some beer. "Ugh." She set the bottle aside.
"That was the deal, Moira. Talk."
She shook her head. "No. John...can't we just have sex?" she asked, tilting her head, pouting. Her gaze raking all along him.
He scowled. "No. Spill it, Moira."
"Funny, John, I was going to say don't spill it. At least not yet," she teased.
"Hilarious, Moira. I can wait all day, baby." He drank some beer.
"Can you? Not as I recall. I can wait, too, sweetie." She sipped, grimaced. Sighed. Set the bottle aside again.
John downed the last of the beer. Set the bottle on the table. "Fine." He waited, knew she'd talk eventually. Lazily removed his shoes. Ran a hand through his hair.
Moira slid off the table. Moved to sit next to him. "John..." She sidled close to him. Whispered in his ear, "Don't you want to fuck me, sweetie?" She kissed around his ear the way he liked.
"I want to fuck you, baby, I want to bring you just like you want, but first you need to talk to me. What happened with Lorne? Talk," he insisted, trying to ignore her seductions.
She sighed, stood. "Damn it, John, it was nothing! I'm so tired of this! I'm so tired!" She moved to the table, stood with her back to him. Glaring at the beer bottle. "You were right, okay? You were right! I never should have gone to talk to him! Happy now? We're having too much sex, John! Too much! Too loud! Too, too intense! Too often! Too, too wonderful! He was angry! No, he was pissed." She grabbed the bottle, downed some beer. "Ugh! I don't know why, John, I don't! Probably because you had to tell him how you rock my world, how you bring me to such...why does he care anyway? Why does he care how often, how many, where, when, how intense...like I'm spending too much time with you, on you, but I hardly see you for days and then when we do..." she spluttered, anger and sorrow mixing as the alcohol buzzed in her.
"He asked that?" John inquired mildly, taking in every word. Every single one. Every word fraught with emotion, distress, chagrin.
"Yes. Why? Why?"
"You don't know?" he tested, watching her.
"No! What does our, our relationship have to do with me being on his team? He, he said you are overzealously protective, says you were breathing down his neck when we were on the mainland but that's not true! And then to imply that all you want to do is to...John," she moved to him, sat near. Took his hand into hers. "I don't want to hurt you. I know how sensitive you are about your lots some women..."
"Go on," he encouraged. Keeping his reactions, his emotions under tight control.
"He um, he figured...he thought...he just assumed you would have dumped me by now. Like your, um, your other women, you know, your lots some women you have sex with and then move on because it is only sex, right? But you didn't...you didn't..." She felt tears. "It's more than the sex, right, John? Right? I mean...I mean...we can't, we have to stop having sex if it's only the sex that keeps you from...I don't know why he'd care if you dumped me or not."
"It's more," he assured quietly. "And he was waiting to pick up the pieces, Moira. Didn't he tell you that?"
"Yes. How did you...John, John, I'm sorry...I'm sorry!"
He kissed her, stroking her thigh. "It's all right, Moira. Go on."
"No." She laid back, sighed. "We have to stop, John. He said I wasn't your type. What is your type, John? Oh, probably not a scientist. You've never had a scientist, have you? Have you ever had a paleozoologist?"
He smiled, leaned down to her. Caressed her waist. "You're my first."
"Oh. What is your type? Probably some beautiful blond like the hat check girl. Or someone less emotional. Less fucked up, right? Without melodrama. I'm sorry about all the melodrama–"
He broke off her teary words with a long kiss. Fingers moving to unbutton her pants. He slid his hand under the fabric and began to stroke the panties. He ran his mouth along her cheek, down her throat. Pressing close, closer. "Moira. I only want you. Even your melodrama."
She murmured, shifting under his caresses. "Why does he care at all about, about–"
"He wants you." He kissed her again, soothing her. Arousing her. Himself as he felt the need to comfort her, to make her his own.
"What?" She stared at him. "No, no! He never..." She shifted as he pulled off her pants. Threw them onto the floor. Unzipped his.
"Shall I tell you, my Moira? He wanted to be there to console you after we broke up. But I'm not going anywhere so he's never going to have you like this. And even if we did break up he now knows he'll never, never be able to give you what I give you, the way I pleasure you, over and over. I know that sounds arrogant, but it is the truth. Right?"
"I...yes..." She moved as his fingers caressed quicker, quicker. "John...oh John, we–"
"Oh Moira, there is no way in hell we are not having sex. I'm not leaving you, or giving up your love for me. My love for you. I want you, baby. I want you every fucking day," he confessed, kissing her passionately. "Baby, do you still want me to fuck you? Against a wall?"
"Yes, John, that was part of the deal," she reminded, succumbing to his seductions.
"I'm hard as a rock, baby, so it's a good thing you said yes," he teased, kissing her. He moved off her, pulling off his pants, shorts. Motions quick, efficient. He moved over her, kissing her. Shoved her shirt and bra out of the way to kiss her breasts, to tease and suck until she arched, moaned in sensual happiness. "I'll make it all better, baby, I promise," he said hoarsely, pulling down her panties. Pulling them off as she obligingly moved. He kissed along her inner thigh.
"John, oh John, you...oh John," she softly cried, squirming, grabbing the blankets as he slid his mouth up, up, delved into her with ruthless, aggressive efficiency.
Hearing her muffled cries as she squirmed, squirmed he lifted his head to see her covering her mouth with her hand. He smiled, slid up to push her hand aside. To kiss her. A searing, possessive kiss that took her breath away. "Not yet, baby...here we go." He moved off and gently rolled her onto her stomach. He slid onto her, pressing his erection along her rear as he kissed down her back. He freed her hair from the ponytail.
"John, oh John, please...please..." she whispered, a flood of frustrated desire enveloping her.
"Do you want me to fuck you, Moira?" he asked in her ear, voice harsh with desire, lust. He moved off her again, pulled her up to her knees. Pushed her up to the headboard. "You have to say it, baby. Say it." He ran his hand down her back to her rear. Squeezed to make her gasp, moan. He pulled her hips out a bit, shoved her thighs apart. Ran his hand teasingly all the way along her intimately. She released a shuddering breath. "So fucking wet...damn...I have to bring you now, baby, or I'll burst." He entered her, moaned in satisfaction. "Say it, Moira, say it," he repeated, pinning her wrists to the headboard as he began a slow, careful rhythm.
"Oh John! John...fuck me, John," she whispered.
"What? I can't hear you, Moira. Oh Moira, say it now. Loudly," he advised, moving quicker. Reveling in each sensation, the delicious friction, the give and take.
"John!" She clung to the headboard. "Fuck me, John. Fuck me! Oh John!" she urged.
"A double, baby?" he asked tersely, about to lose his own control as she clenched her muscles around him. Slick and tight to make him unbearably hard, tense. "Fuck, fuck!" he growled.
"Yes, John, yes!" she enthused, losing herself in the raw pleasure, the sheer animalistic drive that was rocking the bed, rocking them both. As his hands slid around her, down, down to tease and torment, to prod and poke she whimpered loudly, arching and sobbing. Her moans nearly in sync with his grunts.
John tensed, tensed, riding the waves of passion, of pleasure. Succumbing to the pure sexual motions, but listening for any sounds of pain or the safe word from her lips. Faster, harder. Deeper. The headboard rattled wildly. The bed squeaking, bouncing beneath them as he shifted position slightly without missing a beat.
Moira cried out, unable to keep her voice down, to keep silent, his name a rough litany on her breathless lips as she came, came. As the climax blossomed, doubling, sending her into a riot of throbbing ecstasy.
John groaned loudly, her cries urging him. The litany of his name spurring him faster, quicker. He strained, lost himself for a moment, wondering if he'd ever stop, ever lose that hardness in her. "Moira!" he growled, then a string of swear words erupted as came, spurting with release.
Moira whimpered as at last his motions slowed, slowed, then suddenly a last, violent thrust that nearly knocked her into the wall. She heard sounds from him she'd never heard at other times. A male, deep groan that made her shiver, made her tighten along him. He fell against her, breath ragged, hot on her skin. Tension easing. One last ripple of pleasure making her moan as he slid out of her. Still leaned heavily upon her.
"Oh Moira, Moira...fuck that...I've never...that was the best, longest...best fuck of my life! Moira...are you okay?" His voice was low, husky.
She tried to catch her breath, hot. Enamored. "I...yes, John. John...welcome back, colonel."
He smiled. "Colonel? I should be a fucking general after that, baby." He moved to recline on the bed, rolled onto his back. Hot. Sweaty. Satisfied.
Moira knew she should move, realized that John was getting quite an eyeful. She finally freed the headboard, scooted down. Melted into a puddle and rested on her back. "Oh John...I never...you...we...you..."
"Don't start. Don't start the blame, baby. No melodrama. No, wait. Bring on the melodrama. Melodrama sex might be better than angry sex. Moira, either we broke the headboard or you broke off my cock. I'm not sure which. Damn...even my balls are still tingling with–"
"John!" she scolded. Rolled next to him, slid over him to kiss him. "I can still feel you inside me, sweetie. Deep, deep inside me, still hard as a rock! How could you keep it up that long?"
"Hell if I know," he muttered, exhausted. He tangled his fingers in her hair, kissing her repeatedly. Moira shifted over him, fingers sliding under his shirt to caress his chest.
"John, I've been thinking...we are having too much–"
"Sex? No. Moira, we are not having too much sex. I don't care what anyone else says or thinks, all right? Maybe too intense sex, but not too much." He stroked her back. Fingers gliding under her shirt.
"Shit. Someone probably heard me. Heard you," she complained.
"So what? I don't care anymore, my Moira. Nor should you. My overzealous protection will shield you, don't you worry. As for what we do, it's nobody's business but ours."
"But we have to stop, John, we..." She sighed, closed her eyes, nestling on him. His solid warmth comforting, loving. She felt so tired suddenly. Elated and worried. The beer making her head buzz. The intense sex making her sleepy. "Don't go, John," she muttered, yanking a blanket over them.
He kissed her brow. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."
"John, I feel all woozy. Woozy, sweetie. John's my sweetie," she gushed, giggled.
He smiled. "Sleep it off, baby. I'm right here." He kissed her again, stroking her back. For once not ready to fall asleep right after sex. Debating what to do. Waiting for Moira to fall asleep. Brooding over her words, what she had told him. Trying to concentrate on that instead of the incredibly orgasmic sex. "Moira?" He gently nudged her. "Sleep, baby. I'll fix everything." He waited, until he was satisfied she was fast asleep. He slid out from under her. Dressed. Splashed some water on his face, washed his hands. Left her asleep on his bed.