The smut bunnies are trying here folks.
DISCLAIMER: I am willing to swap bunnies for them….
Misery - 3
Heaven, she decided. Feeling his weight pressing her into the mattress was heaven. Of all the things she had missed, she hadn't catalogued that feeling. She was a big woman, tall and strong. But being cocooned by his warmth and muscles in a bed had always made her feel safe and loved. No matter what devices a woman owned, nothing could replicate that feeling. She allowed herself a brief moment to savor it.
Without thinking, she pushed herself against him, seeking more of that glorious contact. It didn't matter that they still were wearing too many clothes. Every part of her body craved the sensation. She even allowed herself a slight hum of contentment. Until she saw his face.
It was drawn up into a tightly clenched mask of agony. Without thinking, she raised her hand to his cheek and whispered, "baby, are you ok?"
"Don't. This is killing me as it is."
She had almost forgotten. The shear deliciousness of the sensations had made her lose their objective. It was not pleasing and loving each other. It was putting on a show for a sick creep so the CBI could catch him. They had been told to make it look good and to generate some actual body heat. Apparently, they were sure the sicko used a heat triggered motion detecting camera. Who knew that even existed. So they were told to make it hot.
Well that would have been awkward with anyone. But to be asked to do this with the one man who's very presence in a room made her blood simmer it was too easy. Oh yeah, that's right. They were not allowed by the freaking rules to feel that way about each other.
Grace had always been the girl who obeyed the rules. She was the coach's daughter. It meant that in their little town, every action would be weighed and measured. She learned early to just follow the plan. Suddenly, that careful quiet girl got angry. Frankly this was bullshit. This was going to kill them both. Fuck it! If the CBI wanted to use them, they would use them right back.
She put both her hands on her lover's strained face. Reaching up to whisper in his ear, she hoped he would agree.
"Baby, listen to me. No one at the CBI can REALLY see what we are doing, right? They are too busy looking for the signal from the camera. They are putting us in an untenable position. Screw them all. I have you in bed with me and don't plan to waste it."
She finished this barely whispered speech with a caress of his ear by her seeking tongue. She reached down and slipped her hands under his pants and slid them down his long legs. Using her agile legs and feet, she shoved them off him completely. The sensation of his bare legs, with his hair tickling hers made her even hotter. She pulled him into the cradle of her thighs.
Poor Wayne was in agony. He wanted nothing more than to respond this rule-breaking Grace. His body was telling him one thing, his sense of duty said another. They fought with each other. When she slid her hand down to stroke him through the underwear, duty suddenly found itself being shown the door. This was the woman he loved in his arms, stroking, kissing and caressing him. Screw duty. Screw the CBI. They put them in this position. They were told to generate some heat. Generate some heat? Hell, they could burn the place down.
Grace knew the moment he was on board with her plan. Instead of holding himself stiffly away from her, he pressed his full weight against her, sliding his legs up and down along hers. That happy grin, so long missing, flashed briefly before his lips came crashing down on hers. His mouth, so long denied her taste, took charge and demanded a response. Her delighted moan vibrated through him and he would have grinned again, if his mouth were not so busy.
For a long moment, they did nothing more than kiss and enjoy the slide of skin against skin, their long bodies relishing the feel of each others. But those hands that had been under strict control by their brains, would not be denied any longer. Pulling himself back just enough to allow his hands to slide under those tiny scraps of fabric covering her, Wayne's delighted fingers traced every inch of her satin softness. Grace signaled her approval of this plan by tipping her hips upwards to grind against his hardness. At the sensation, they both stopped and their eyes met.
He had been sure that his lonely brain must have exaggerated how sexy and gorgeous she looked under him when they made love. No one could look that good. He had actually decided that it was his misery playing tricks on his memory. At that moment, his brain sent a fevered apology to his memory. She looked even better. Her white skin was flushed as her body arched toward him. That smile was her real smile, not the polite one she often used. Enough looking, his libido reminded him, they had better things to do!
His blue eyes stroked and caressed her just as surely as his hands. She knew when they darkened to that deep blue, he was all hers. Every inch of her body smiled, with happiness, so her face joined in.
His hands were stroking her breasts and she lifted herself without though toward the sensation. When his head lowered to taste what his hands had been shaping, she let out a small sigh of happiness. When they first became lovers, there had been no awkwardness. He seemed to know instinctively what she wanted and needed and how to play her body. She remembered how surprised she had been at sweet shy Wayne's ability to turn her inside out several times. Now, she accepted it as a given.
Grace ran her fingers through his short soft hair, lightly raking her nails along his scalp. Even if they weren't making love, it was something he loved. He would lay his big head on her lap as they watched TV, and she would trail her fingers through his hair. Ah, there it was, that hum of contentment. It was like having a lion purring for you.
As much as they each wanted to savor and catalogue each sensation, they both knew time was not on their side. Wayne slid his long fingers under the small sliver of lace covering her wetness. His thumb slowly circled and pressed against her as his long finger stroked easily into her wet heat. The purr of contentment changed to a small growl of desire.
She was more than ready and so was he. The only thing that could make this moment better was…Cho's voice. What? Cho's voice?
The banging they had assumed was their heartbeats turned out to be the door and Cho yelling, "Rigsby, Van Pelt! We got him! We need you both downstairs now"
Cruel? Hell yeah. But the angst bunnies are real bitches. Review and chocolates help.
BTW...I am hoping this inspires some of the GRIGBY contingent out here to do some writing!! I know we are all depressed about what crap they are about to throw at us. That's why FANFICTION was invented! So we, who know so much better, can fix those messes!