Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or situations created for TGAH; I am borrowing them purely for entertainment purposes and am making no profit from their use. Thank you to Stephen J. Cannell, the cast, producers, writers, directors, and crew for giving us this wonderful, timeless show and the characters that bring it to life.
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NOTE: This story is a missing scene from the story Volcada. This story fills the gap between Chapters 6 and 8.
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Author's Note: An NC-17 rated version of this chapter is now available on AdultFanFiction(dot)net - urls are disabled here so please enter "AdultFanFiction" into your browser's search engine to locate the site.
To find this story, search for my Author Name or look under "The Greatest American Hero" (include "The" in your search). 18+ readers only, please.
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She stood very still in the middle of the bedroom as he gently pushed the silk robe off her shoulders to fall in a shining pool at her feet. She barely breathed as he undid each button of her silk pajama top. The intensity in his eyes as his fingers traveled down was like a drug. She felt light headed when he undid the last button and stood gazing at the ribbon of skin showing from her neck to her waist. With a shuddering breath he pushed the top back. She felt the cool air on her bare breasts and knew he could see her arousal in her taut, flushed skin. She let the top fall to the floor, then looked down to untie the cord of her pajama pants. Moving slowly, she pushed the waist of the pants down, pausing for just an instant before lowering them past her hips. She let them fall and stepped out of the small pile of white silk at her feet.
She stood for a moment, letting him drink in every line and curve before she stepped forward and pressed against him, leaning up on her toes for a deep kiss. Loving the feel of the soft cotton t-shirt against her bare skin.
She did all this as slowly and deliberately as possible. She knew how it was for men. She knew how deeply they longed for that first glimpse of newly discovered skin. How the sight of the previously forbidden fired their nerve endings and sent the blood coursing through their veins.
And when it was her turn, she tried to go slow.
She couldn't.
She pressed harder. Soaking in the sensation of the navy blue t-shirt, his gabardine slacks, his warm skin as her hands worked up under the shirt.
She pushed with a firm pressure, urging him wordlessly back. She felt the bump as his calves collided with the bed. Her hands found his waist and pushed down until his legs bent and he sat on the edge of the bed.
He looked up through half-closed eyes. His lips were parted and his breath was shallow and quick. His long fingered hands found her hips, stroking down to her thighs. He held her there, pulling her forward, but she resisted, laying a hand on each of his shoulders.
Her fingers traced the neck of the t-shirt, closed tightly on the soft fabric and pulled. The sound of tearing cotton was like an electric jolt to her stomach, sparking an involuntarily trill of laughter.
His eyes opened wide, taking in her wide grin and he broke into an answering grin that turned to a startled laugh as she pushed his shoulders back to the bed.
She knelt at his feet and her fingers worked the fastenings of his trousers, in an instant she had the waist loose and was working it down over his hips. He pushed up to give her access and for a split second she considered leaving the boxers for last.
She didn't. Her fingers found the elastic waist and she pulled tugging both pieces down and over his knees. Two quick yanks had pants, boxers and socks in a crumpled pile at the foot of the bed.
She stood between his bare feet, hands on her hips and let her gaze travel up his impossibly long legs, over his muscled thighs, his-
She couldn't go slow. It was impossible.
With a panting moan she moved forward and planted her knees on the edge of the bed on either side of his thighs.
She fell forward, catching herself on her straight arms, bracing herself over his bandaged chest.
He gasped as her long hair fell in a dark curtain across her shoulder and brushed his skin. She bent and gave him a long, lingering kiss, then pushed up, giving him another wide smile before she bent and kissed his chin, his throat, the divot of bone at the base of his neck, his breastbone, traveling down and down until she was again kneeling between his feet.
He raised himself on his elbows, looking down the length of his body. She flashed another wide smile and bent forward again.
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Several minutes later she felt his hand on her shoulder and she looked up. His eyes were heavy lidded and his chest rose and fell with quick, short breaths. She wet her lips and stood, holding out her hand.
She braced her feet and helped him lever up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. His grunt of pain hit her like a blow and she bit her lip. He saw her expression and shook his head, giving her a lopsided smile.
He stood, looking down at her upturned face, then bent and gave her a deep and thorough kiss. She was breathing heavily when he broke the contact and bent to kiss her throat as his strong fingers traced down her arms and back up to her shoulders. The delicate pressure on her skin made her shiver and she saw him smile as he stepped around until he was behind her. She felt his lips press a light kiss to her ear and felt her hair move as he brushed it up and over her shoulder. Then his lips trailed a line of kisses across her back while his hands slid around to her belly.
With a tremulous thrill in the pit of her stomach, she realized she had no idea where his mouth or his hands would touch her next. She felt his fingers trace along the curve of her hip and she lost herself in the sensation.
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Sometime later he lay stretched out on top of her bed sheets, gazing up at her through half-closed eyes. She was straddling his hips again, hovering barely an inch above him.
She could feel his pulsing heat across the gulf of space between them.
"Beautiful," he breathed.
And with a sigh, she lowered herself, closing the gap between them.
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She lay beside him, her head cradled against his shoulder. Her hand lay on his bandaged chest, feeling it rise and fall with his even breath. She raised her head and gazed at his sleeping face, unmasked and unmarked by pain.
He sighed and his arm moved, pulling her closer. She lay against him and drifted to sleep.
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- continued in Chapter 8 -
el Tango de Los Angeles
(Tango of the Angels)