BD15
Disclaimer: Top Cow is a front for Kenneth Irons, who owns everything.
Author's note: Still in computer hell, and to top it all off, I was rear- ended while driving home, then my mother showed up for an impromptu visit that lasted all week. Needless to say, my Muses went into hiding. It's hard to write about sex knowing your mother could walk in at any moment.
Ian stretched out on the bed and watched Moira. Instead of coming to bed, she was lighting the candles that filled every spare inch of the two nightstands. Her body language was a little tense, suggesting she was nervous. That was almost funny, since he was the one who had never done this before. What did she have to be nervous about?
Finally the last candle was lit, and there was no longer any reason for her to stay away. Instead of joining him immediately, she made a play of making sure the match was out before setting it down on the base of the last candleholder. Ian reached out and pulled her down onto him.
She ended up sprawled across his chest, her legs just outside his hips. He could feel the contrast of rough-napped towel and sleek feminine flesh. Part of him kept insisting it couldn't be real, shouldn't be real.
He knew perfectly well that this sort of contact was forbidden him. He had never understood why, he had simply obeyed. After all, there had been a great many things he did not understand. Understanding had not been required or desired by his master, but total obedience was.
Now he had opened Pandora's box, and there was no turning back. Even if he did not consummate their mutual desires, he was still irreversibly changed. He gazed deep into Moira's brilliant blue eyes, trying to see she understood. He felt suspended between what was and what would be. It was a little frightening, this chasm that yawned under him. It seemed to be waiting for the slightest misstep to pull him down.
Moira did seem to sense his fears, and she said, "If this goes to fast for you, tell me. I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable."
Just the fact that she understood lessened the fear enough that his sense of irony came to the surface. Hadn't he heard a similar statement in a movie once, but with the man saying it to the woman? And he certainly had qualified for uncomfortable for a while now. He was unused to being aroused, and found the natural reactions of his body more difficult to ignore than not. "I have been 'uncomfortable' since you showed up in that little red dress. Do you know how much cleavage that thing flashes when you shrug?"
"Ok, how about if I specify uncomfortable in a bad way." Moira smiled down at him while blushing.
Was that a blush mantling her cheeks? She was such a delightful blend of sassy and vulnerable. It made it easier to let go of his fears, knowing he was not the only one exposed.
"Then I would say we could continue full speed ahead." Ian reached up and sank his fingers into her hair. He had an overwhelming urge to undo the last sign of restraint. He wanted to see her hair flowing over his hands and down her back.
Hairpins pinged off the wall and floor as he undid her bun in the most expedient manner possible. He smiled as his labors were rewarded. Her hair flowed like silk over his hands and down her back. He found the contrast of night black hair and marble pale skin wondrous.
The vision was marred only by the terrycloth towel, which now seemed terribly out of place. Just as he slid one hand down her back to push it off, she leaned in and kissed him in an exploratory way. Ian parted his lips instinctually, and was surprised when she thrust her tongue into his mouth. He passively allowed her explorations for a brief time, and then began to imitate her movements.
Disclaimer: Top Cow is a front for Kenneth Irons, who owns everything.
Author's note: Still in computer hell, and to top it all off, I was rear- ended while driving home, then my mother showed up for an impromptu visit that lasted all week. Needless to say, my Muses went into hiding. It's hard to write about sex knowing your mother could walk in at any moment.
Ian stretched out on the bed and watched Moira. Instead of coming to bed, she was lighting the candles that filled every spare inch of the two nightstands. Her body language was a little tense, suggesting she was nervous. That was almost funny, since he was the one who had never done this before. What did she have to be nervous about?
Finally the last candle was lit, and there was no longer any reason for her to stay away. Instead of joining him immediately, she made a play of making sure the match was out before setting it down on the base of the last candleholder. Ian reached out and pulled her down onto him.
She ended up sprawled across his chest, her legs just outside his hips. He could feel the contrast of rough-napped towel and sleek feminine flesh. Part of him kept insisting it couldn't be real, shouldn't be real.
He knew perfectly well that this sort of contact was forbidden him. He had never understood why, he had simply obeyed. After all, there had been a great many things he did not understand. Understanding had not been required or desired by his master, but total obedience was.
Now he had opened Pandora's box, and there was no turning back. Even if he did not consummate their mutual desires, he was still irreversibly changed. He gazed deep into Moira's brilliant blue eyes, trying to see she understood. He felt suspended between what was and what would be. It was a little frightening, this chasm that yawned under him. It seemed to be waiting for the slightest misstep to pull him down.
Moira did seem to sense his fears, and she said, "If this goes to fast for you, tell me. I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable."
Just the fact that she understood lessened the fear enough that his sense of irony came to the surface. Hadn't he heard a similar statement in a movie once, but with the man saying it to the woman? And he certainly had qualified for uncomfortable for a while now. He was unused to being aroused, and found the natural reactions of his body more difficult to ignore than not. "I have been 'uncomfortable' since you showed up in that little red dress. Do you know how much cleavage that thing flashes when you shrug?"
"Ok, how about if I specify uncomfortable in a bad way." Moira smiled down at him while blushing.
Was that a blush mantling her cheeks? She was such a delightful blend of sassy and vulnerable. It made it easier to let go of his fears, knowing he was not the only one exposed.
"Then I would say we could continue full speed ahead." Ian reached up and sank his fingers into her hair. He had an overwhelming urge to undo the last sign of restraint. He wanted to see her hair flowing over his hands and down her back.
Hairpins pinged off the wall and floor as he undid her bun in the most expedient manner possible. He smiled as his labors were rewarded. Her hair flowed like silk over his hands and down her back. He found the contrast of night black hair and marble pale skin wondrous.
The vision was marred only by the terrycloth towel, which now seemed terribly out of place. Just as he slid one hand down her back to push it off, she leaned in and kissed him in an exploratory way. Ian parted his lips instinctually, and was surprised when she thrust her tongue into his mouth. He passively allowed her explorations for a brief time, and then began to imitate her movements.