Michelle gazed at him, suspended over her; one of his legs hooked loosely around hers. She became aware of a peculiar sort of calm emanating from them both, one which hadn't ever surfaced between them before. The place seemed very still all of a sudden. Things between them had levelled out, quite literally, as they lay on the floor, locked in a disorderly shirtless embrace. Her heart rate had slowed, her shivers had ceased, her flesh was no longer buzzing beneath the surface of her skin.

She felt his fingers inch toward her face, where they traced several times across her jawline, and she, in return, nudged into his touch. She blinked then, unable to maintain their locked gaze, and felt disappointed with herself. He was looking at her with a sort of intensity she found confronting. She couldn't…she couldn't reciprocate in kind, couldn't open herself to him, couldn't offer up everything and he…well, he wasn't hiding from her.

She didn't want him to. She never wanted him to hide any part of himself from her, but to do the same for him? It was a foolish desire. As the night evolved she'd felt barricades disintegrate. She'd felt in tune, in touch, safe. She was coming hazardously close to joining him in his comfortable abandon…and she wasn't really sure she could, or even should. People left, after all. They let her down. They wandered away from her all the time. This was why she'd never been in love, not even a little. It seemed, for her, an unwise thing…not that she'd ever felt herself falling before. Not like she was now.

Without thinking, she raised herself to kiss him, a quick childish sort of kiss.

'I like this,' he informed her when she pulled back, pressing the tip of his finger to the bow of her lips. She smiled.

'I'm glad.'

He grinned down at her, and she champed at her bottom lip, wondering why she felt so nervous all of a sudden.

'So…what are we doing down here?'

At this he seemed to recall his previous purpose, and smiled a very wicked sort of smile, which he proceeded to press against her breast bone. He kissed her.

'This.'

He moved down her body then, pecking arbitrarily as he went, and she felt her muscles spasm beneath him. He eventually arrived at her thighs, where he touched her lightly, and proceeded to observe the tiny jolt she was unable to quash with a slight smile.

He rolled her skirt down from her hips, over her bent legs and away from her altogether, leaving her in nothing but her underwear, flagrantly bare on the carpet. She wrestled with the urge to ask for the skirt back, wondering if he'd give it to her if she did.

His eyes raked over her abdomen, her hips, her pelvis and she realised she hadn't taken a breath in quite some time, caught up in the suspense and agony of it all. His fingers were dancing along the seams of the fabric, teasing her happily, until he finally caught the sides in his hands and drew the thing from her body. She held her breath the entire time, feeling horrendously exposed now compared to his happy half-dressed state.

'T-Tony,' she breathed, when he returned to his hovering position of power at her thighs, scrutinising every naked inch of her. 'Don't.'

'What?' he asked darkly, his hand coming up to rest against her, his mouth not far off.

'You don't…don't have to…'

He raised his face to her, his eyes glinting in the glow from the living room lamp.

'Let me,' he growled at her. She exhaled slowly, and jumped when she felt his fingers delve softly between her folds.

'Come on,' he urged. 'Let me.'

He wanted to taste her. He wanted to drink her. Didn't she have any idea how much he wanted those things? She could be nervous or self-conscious or whatever another time. He felt compelled to do it, and he felt compelled to do it now.

She'd watched him for far too long when, after an age had seemingly passed, she gave a hesitant nod of her head.

His mouth sent her whirling as it made first contact, his tongue slashing up and down through her arousal, lapping as he went. She lurched at the sensation of his coarse cheeks against her softness and, for a long moment, his mouth merely explored her. She felt herself adapting, felt her body welcoming him, accepting him, until he did something which made her bolt off the floor. With no forewarning at all, he'd gripped her hips hard between his palms and plunged his tongue deep inside her passage. She'd heard herself gasp desperately, and grab violently at his shoulders, but he took no notice of her. She collapsed back on the carpet, feeling feeble with pleasure and need, and all she could do was revel in the feel of his tongue as it curled and played within her.

It was torture. At times, she was sure it was more aching than it was agreeable to have him continue, to have him excite her in this way, to know her in this way. He was unquenchable, nibbling and sipping at her, until, having decided he'd tormented her enough, he fastened his lips around her nub and murmured against her, the tremors launching her over the edge. She reared frantically beneath him, her fingernails digging down into his skin as he brought her to a place, a paradise, she hadn't previously known existed.

She came back down, her bucking legs held in his hands, pinned down to the floor, and she fumbled helplessly around for him. Seeming to know exactly what she needed, he was suddenly sitting by her side, helping her up into his arms, where he cradled her across his lap and ran a hand through her tangled hair.

'You okay?' he breathed into her curls, looking at her. She pressed her face deep into his neck, and his arms tightened around her.

His eyes roamed her as he listened for her response. She was nude in his arms, and he couldn't stop looking, couldn't stop touching. Which part of her wasn't perfect? There had to be one. At the very least, he thought, there had to be one.

'I…' she took in a several breaths, looking stunned and he waited for her, admiring her flushed face and glazed, shiny eyes. 'I…I can't move,' she finally admitted, her voice a whisper against his chin. A tiny incredulous laugh, soft and sweet, left her lips, and he grasped them between his own for a moment, feeling weak from her, feeling overcome by her taste in his mouth and her weight in his arms.

'That's alright,' he said softly, his lips coming up to rest against her closed eye. 'That's alright. I've got you.'

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