Title: The Prince Of Tides- So Very Much
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "Man wonders and God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides"
Rating: R
*Note: This chapter is the first in this series to contain a R rating. It's nothing too bad, I promise, and it's not gratuitous (at least not in my eyes.)*
The wind pushed forcefully against the windowpane, causing it to crack and creak underneath the torrent of pressure. The shear curtains behind their bed rustled gently, mimicking the howling storm outside at it's failed persistence at rocking the sleepy silence of the apartment. All was quiet and all was dark.
Ross shifted slightly underneath the cocoon of flannel blankets and the feathery down comforter. Hesitantly, he blinked his eyes open and glanced unflappably at the clock next to his head. 4:07 am, and today was Saturday. That meant at least five more hours of undisturbed sleep. He smiled to himself and rolled over on his right side, facing the beautiful sleeping form who's chest rose and fell steadily next to him. He took a few moments to really study her- something he had not had the luxury or pleasure of doing in quite some time.
He let his eyes move carefully over her body, beginning with the haphazard fall of her silky golden hair over her pillow and around her shoulders. Then, he took notice of the smooth texture and tanned color of her skin- how much it looked like caramel yet how much tastier it undoubtedly was. Unable to control himself any longer, he moved closer to her, stretching one hand over the flat plane of her stomach and wrapping the other underneath her back and up to rest in her hair. He smiled as he nuzzled her nose and felt her eyelashes flutter open against his cheek.
"Ross?" she murmured groggily. She was awake, but just barely.
"Yeah." He face was rested next to hers on her pillow, and his fingers were moving lightly over her stomach. She pulled his body up and over to rest partly on top of her. Her hands run up and down the muscled definition of his back, and she let one stop just above the curve of his ass to rest on his lower waste.
"Mmm, cold," she whispered. He was unsure as to whether she was referring to him or herself. Either way, she was right. He moved to pull the covers more tightly around them, but she halted his movements and placed her mouth closer to his ear.
"Not what I meant." She dipped her lips to the soft skin of his neck and kissed him there with a passion that seemed to be reserved for lips only. She dug her fingernails into his back and pushed her hips firmly up into his. He couldn't help but notice the rushed intensity in her advancements, and they both worried and excited him. When she reached her down between them, though, to the waistband of his boxers, he broke their kiss and grabbed her wrist a little more firmly than had been intended.
"Rachel..." be began, his breath rugged and hot against her cheek. He did not have to finish. They both knew what he was addressing. He mentally kicked himself, though, at the realization of the slight pain and embarrassment on her face.
"I'm sorry." He shook his head profusely, balancing his weight atop two braced elbows on either side of her head. He dipped his lips and kissed her brow, then her eyes. Her nose.
"God, don't be sorry." Her chin. "It's just been a while." Her cheek. "I don't want it to be for the wrong reasons." She nodded, the look of confusion fading and then disappearing altogether from her face. Her eyes were wide and wet- not from tears, but from that natural glossiness that is distinct to puppies. She was beautiful. She was his. She was alive.
Her lips.
He pushed his weight down onto her, careful not to smother her. She was so small and he often felt as if he dwarfed her during their lovemaking. He kissed her shoulder and then the valley between her breasts, causing her to wrap her legs possessively around his waist and rotate her hips into him.
He was losing it, little by little. She was unraveling him, just as she had done so many times in the past. Since the first day he had laid eyes on her...since he was fourteen years old...since the ninth grade...she, unlike any other woman he had ever met, had possessed the capacity to break him and then put him right back together again just with one look...one smile...one kiss. The seeming entropy of their relationship was almost more than he could bare at times; the overwhelming sense that they were doomed to failure- that they would spend eternity as star-crossed lovers who never quite could get it just right. Then...God, then there were moments like these...moments where right and wrong were nonexistent. The only thing that mattered was how perfect and complete he felt when he was touching her- kissing her.
Her breath was loud and jagged in his ear, and her hand was creeping slowly down his stomach to a part of him that she had never displeased. When she grasped it in her hand, his breath caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes firmly shut in an attempt to concentrate. He reached for the end-table drawer, but Rachel grabbed his hand.
"Don't." Unsure, he gazed down into her eyes. He had never seen her look more serious.
"Wh...Are you sure?" He loathed every word that stood between him and that glorious moment when he could finally be inside her, but he had to be sure she knew what she was saying.
"Ross...please." God, how was he going to say "no" to that? She was practically begging him. Great, the most goddamn gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on was laying completely naked beneath him, begging him to make love to her, and it was his turn to be the responsible one.
"Ross...I love you...please."
Screw responsibility.
He sunk slowly but completely down into her, letting his body rest atop hers briefly and allowing them both adequate time to adjust to the sensation, before he moved his hips back up. They made love that way for nearly half an hour- slowly but deliberately- and they were both spent when it was over.
It was nearly 5 now, and Ross knew that only another hour remained sacred to them before the certain rise of the sun would disrupt their tomb of solitude. He pulled her body on top of his and rubbed her back until he felt her breath come evenly and shallow, assuring him that she was sleeping peacefully. He then closed his own eyes, but did not drift off to sleep immediately. At least, not until he heard that familiar, feminine, barely-there whisper that always seemed to surprise him when he thought she was asleep.
"I love you so very much."
So very much.
(Note: Weeeee! That was fun. Truth be told, I really just didn't know where to take the story after that last chapter, and I didn't want to waste all the free time I actually had tonight, so I decided to play it safe with the classic "endearing love scene". I knew no one would have a problem with that. :-) More to come later. Review, por favor.)
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "Man wonders and God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides"
Rating: R
*Note: This chapter is the first in this series to contain a R rating. It's nothing too bad, I promise, and it's not gratuitous (at least not in my eyes.)*
The wind pushed forcefully against the windowpane, causing it to crack and creak underneath the torrent of pressure. The shear curtains behind their bed rustled gently, mimicking the howling storm outside at it's failed persistence at rocking the sleepy silence of the apartment. All was quiet and all was dark.
Ross shifted slightly underneath the cocoon of flannel blankets and the feathery down comforter. Hesitantly, he blinked his eyes open and glanced unflappably at the clock next to his head. 4:07 am, and today was Saturday. That meant at least five more hours of undisturbed sleep. He smiled to himself and rolled over on his right side, facing the beautiful sleeping form who's chest rose and fell steadily next to him. He took a few moments to really study her- something he had not had the luxury or pleasure of doing in quite some time.
He let his eyes move carefully over her body, beginning with the haphazard fall of her silky golden hair over her pillow and around her shoulders. Then, he took notice of the smooth texture and tanned color of her skin- how much it looked like caramel yet how much tastier it undoubtedly was. Unable to control himself any longer, he moved closer to her, stretching one hand over the flat plane of her stomach and wrapping the other underneath her back and up to rest in her hair. He smiled as he nuzzled her nose and felt her eyelashes flutter open against his cheek.
"Ross?" she murmured groggily. She was awake, but just barely.
"Yeah." He face was rested next to hers on her pillow, and his fingers were moving lightly over her stomach. She pulled his body up and over to rest partly on top of her. Her hands run up and down the muscled definition of his back, and she let one stop just above the curve of his ass to rest on his lower waste.
"Mmm, cold," she whispered. He was unsure as to whether she was referring to him or herself. Either way, she was right. He moved to pull the covers more tightly around them, but she halted his movements and placed her mouth closer to his ear.
"Not what I meant." She dipped her lips to the soft skin of his neck and kissed him there with a passion that seemed to be reserved for lips only. She dug her fingernails into his back and pushed her hips firmly up into his. He couldn't help but notice the rushed intensity in her advancements, and they both worried and excited him. When she reached her down between them, though, to the waistband of his boxers, he broke their kiss and grabbed her wrist a little more firmly than had been intended.
"Rachel..." be began, his breath rugged and hot against her cheek. He did not have to finish. They both knew what he was addressing. He mentally kicked himself, though, at the realization of the slight pain and embarrassment on her face.
"I'm sorry." He shook his head profusely, balancing his weight atop two braced elbows on either side of her head. He dipped his lips and kissed her brow, then her eyes. Her nose.
"God, don't be sorry." Her chin. "It's just been a while." Her cheek. "I don't want it to be for the wrong reasons." She nodded, the look of confusion fading and then disappearing altogether from her face. Her eyes were wide and wet- not from tears, but from that natural glossiness that is distinct to puppies. She was beautiful. She was his. She was alive.
Her lips.
He pushed his weight down onto her, careful not to smother her. She was so small and he often felt as if he dwarfed her during their lovemaking. He kissed her shoulder and then the valley between her breasts, causing her to wrap her legs possessively around his waist and rotate her hips into him.
He was losing it, little by little. She was unraveling him, just as she had done so many times in the past. Since the first day he had laid eyes on her...since he was fourteen years old...since the ninth grade...she, unlike any other woman he had ever met, had possessed the capacity to break him and then put him right back together again just with one look...one smile...one kiss. The seeming entropy of their relationship was almost more than he could bare at times; the overwhelming sense that they were doomed to failure- that they would spend eternity as star-crossed lovers who never quite could get it just right. Then...God, then there were moments like these...moments where right and wrong were nonexistent. The only thing that mattered was how perfect and complete he felt when he was touching her- kissing her.
Her breath was loud and jagged in his ear, and her hand was creeping slowly down his stomach to a part of him that she had never displeased. When she grasped it in her hand, his breath caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes firmly shut in an attempt to concentrate. He reached for the end-table drawer, but Rachel grabbed his hand.
"Don't." Unsure, he gazed down into her eyes. He had never seen her look more serious.
"Wh...Are you sure?" He loathed every word that stood between him and that glorious moment when he could finally be inside her, but he had to be sure she knew what she was saying.
"Ross...please." God, how was he going to say "no" to that? She was practically begging him. Great, the most goddamn gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on was laying completely naked beneath him, begging him to make love to her, and it was his turn to be the responsible one.
"Ross...I love you...please."
Screw responsibility.
He sunk slowly but completely down into her, letting his body rest atop hers briefly and allowing them both adequate time to adjust to the sensation, before he moved his hips back up. They made love that way for nearly half an hour- slowly but deliberately- and they were both spent when it was over.
It was nearly 5 now, and Ross knew that only another hour remained sacred to them before the certain rise of the sun would disrupt their tomb of solitude. He pulled her body on top of his and rubbed her back until he felt her breath come evenly and shallow, assuring him that she was sleeping peacefully. He then closed his own eyes, but did not drift off to sleep immediately. At least, not until he heard that familiar, feminine, barely-there whisper that always seemed to surprise him when he thought she was asleep.
"I love you so very much."
So very much.
(Note: Weeeee! That was fun. Truth be told, I really just didn't know where to take the story after that last chapter, and I didn't want to waste all the free time I actually had tonight, so I decided to play it safe with the classic "endearing love scene". I knew no one would have a problem with that. :-) More to come later. Review, por favor.)