BD16
Author's notes: Anyone interested in the piece of art Ian refers to, can
see it on the Jim Fitzpatrick website. It's how I see Moira in my mind's
eye.
Also, due to the rating changes of the site, this chapter has been edited
for content. Sorry ladies. Sign the petition if it bothers you, I certainly
have.
Moira coaxed his tongue into her mouth, and sighed as he took over the kiss. Ian found the taste of her more intoxicating than the alcohol he had consumed. He had never thought of how a woman would taste, or how it would affect him. She was a fire in his blood, burning away rational thought.
She was running her hands over his sides lightly, and Ian shivered. He had not realized his ribs were ticklish. Moira pulled away from his mouth and began to drop kisses along his jaw and down his chest.
He tugged demandingly on the towel, and it yielded to him. The offending terrycloth barrier was tossed toward the wall, narrowly missing the candles. The breeze created by it's passing caused a few of the candles to go out, and several others flickered wildly. Ian didn't even notice, so focused was he in the sleek flesh now exposed to his gaze.
Moira grinned at his impetuous action. It was so at odds with the way he was staring at her without making a move to touch. She felt like a painting or a classical sculpture in a museum. "I won't break, and I wasn't painted by DaVinci."
"What about Jim Fitzpatrick? You do look strikingly like the piece titled 'Boann' that he did recently." Ian said, half in seriousness.
"Jim's work is pretty much unknown here in the States. How did you become a fan?" Moira asked as she stroked her hands down his arms.
"I've spent some time in Eire, but I was largely on the Isle of Skye and the Orkney Islands. I had thought never to see anything as beautiful as the Hebrides in spring, but you are far lovelier." Ian finished softly as he joined his hands in hers.
"And you stopped at Castle Blarney during your tour, I see." Moira felt a blush heat her cheekbones.
"I did actually, but I gave 'kissing the stone' a miss. Anything that requires being lowered by my ankles by some stranger into what looks suspiciously like a medieval jakes I feel compelled to avoid." Ian smiled.
"Smart thinking there, Sassenach. I believe the tradition was started for visiting English dignitaries, and you know what high esteem they were held in." Moira rolled her eyes.
"Well there's one thing Irish I will always be willing to kiss," Ian raised their intertwined hands to his lips and placed a lingering kiss on each knuckle, all the while maintaining eye contact.
Moira shivered under his suddenly intense gaze. The moment of playfulness had passed, sending them back into the fire of their mutual passion. Moira leaned down and kissed Ian deeply, telling him without words how he had affected her.
Initially Ian was content to let her set the pace. Her explorations were also his discoveries. He could not believe the sensations shooting through his body. It was almost more than he could take. His body was tight, straining. He was restive under her hands, seeking something he did not know, only sensed. He felt his hips move demandingly as she trailed little licks and nips just below his navel, a low growl trickling from his lips.
"Easy accushla," Moira soothed, kissing back up his chest. She locked eyes with him, seeing the almost blind hunger in his. Oh yes, Ian was more than ready. She straddled his hips; this first time might go better with her on top. She didn't want him upset if he had trouble achieving entry. Goddess forefend she should give this beautiful man a complex.
She also didn't want either of them hurt, and a botched thrust could bruise both participants. That would be uncomfortable as well as inconvenient. Moira braced herself with one hand on his chest, and leaned slightly forward. The other hand grasped his erection gently and guided him to her entrance.
Ian sucked in a breath as she lowered herself onto him. The sensation was like nothing he had ever dreamed. Several of the texts had referred to heat and moisture; he had even encountered phrases such as wet silk or satin. He found the terms to be an inadequate description of the actual feeling. Although he wasn't sure how he would describe it, if asked, either. All he knew was, it was the most incredible sensation, and he never wanted it to stop.
Above him, Moira was working hard to maintain a slow and steady pace. Her body was screaming for more, but she had to take his inexperience into account. This inner resolve of hers lasted until he gritted his teeth and gasped out, "Moira, please!" while arching upward.
"Roll with me, accushla." Moira ordered as she gripped his shoulders and twisted. They nearly fell off the bed, but managed to change positions without separating. Ian braced himself on his forearms and looked down into Moira's dark blue eyes. He hesitated for a long moment, simply enjoying the intimacy of their embrace. Then he began to move, letting instinct guide him. His breathing became more and more ragged as he sped up.
Moira's soft little cries became louder, encouraging him. She had really intended to be giving him advice, but she was far beyond the ability to string coherent thoughts together. Not that it mattered, as Ian was doing everything just fine. He shifted slightly over her, and his next thrust touched something inside her she had not thought she possessed. She cried out his name as her entire body shook with the force of her orgasm.
Ian felt her inner muscles clamp down on him as she called his name. The realization that he had given her such pleasure, combined with the feel of her around him, pushed him over the edge as well. His spine bowed as the pleasure seized him. Sweating and spent, he lowered himself down beside Moira. It had been the most incredible night of his life, and he hoped it wasn't over yet.
Moira coaxed his tongue into her mouth, and sighed as he took over the kiss. Ian found the taste of her more intoxicating than the alcohol he had consumed. He had never thought of how a woman would taste, or how it would affect him. She was a fire in his blood, burning away rational thought.
She was running her hands over his sides lightly, and Ian shivered. He had not realized his ribs were ticklish. Moira pulled away from his mouth and began to drop kisses along his jaw and down his chest.
He tugged demandingly on the towel, and it yielded to him. The offending terrycloth barrier was tossed toward the wall, narrowly missing the candles. The breeze created by it's passing caused a few of the candles to go out, and several others flickered wildly. Ian didn't even notice, so focused was he in the sleek flesh now exposed to his gaze.
Moira grinned at his impetuous action. It was so at odds with the way he was staring at her without making a move to touch. She felt like a painting or a classical sculpture in a museum. "I won't break, and I wasn't painted by DaVinci."
"What about Jim Fitzpatrick? You do look strikingly like the piece titled 'Boann' that he did recently." Ian said, half in seriousness.
"Jim's work is pretty much unknown here in the States. How did you become a fan?" Moira asked as she stroked her hands down his arms.
"I've spent some time in Eire, but I was largely on the Isle of Skye and the Orkney Islands. I had thought never to see anything as beautiful as the Hebrides in spring, but you are far lovelier." Ian finished softly as he joined his hands in hers.
"And you stopped at Castle Blarney during your tour, I see." Moira felt a blush heat her cheekbones.
"I did actually, but I gave 'kissing the stone' a miss. Anything that requires being lowered by my ankles by some stranger into what looks suspiciously like a medieval jakes I feel compelled to avoid." Ian smiled.
"Smart thinking there, Sassenach. I believe the tradition was started for visiting English dignitaries, and you know what high esteem they were held in." Moira rolled her eyes.
"Well there's one thing Irish I will always be willing to kiss," Ian raised their intertwined hands to his lips and placed a lingering kiss on each knuckle, all the while maintaining eye contact.
Moira shivered under his suddenly intense gaze. The moment of playfulness had passed, sending them back into the fire of their mutual passion. Moira leaned down and kissed Ian deeply, telling him without words how he had affected her.
Initially Ian was content to let her set the pace. Her explorations were also his discoveries. He could not believe the sensations shooting through his body. It was almost more than he could take. His body was tight, straining. He was restive under her hands, seeking something he did not know, only sensed. He felt his hips move demandingly as she trailed little licks and nips just below his navel, a low growl trickling from his lips.
"Easy accushla," Moira soothed, kissing back up his chest. She locked eyes with him, seeing the almost blind hunger in his. Oh yes, Ian was more than ready. She straddled his hips; this first time might go better with her on top. She didn't want him upset if he had trouble achieving entry. Goddess forefend she should give this beautiful man a complex.
She also didn't want either of them hurt, and a botched thrust could bruise both participants. That would be uncomfortable as well as inconvenient. Moira braced herself with one hand on his chest, and leaned slightly forward. The other hand grasped his erection gently and guided him to her entrance.
Ian sucked in a breath as she lowered herself onto him. The sensation was like nothing he had ever dreamed. Several of the texts had referred to heat and moisture; he had even encountered phrases such as wet silk or satin. He found the terms to be an inadequate description of the actual feeling. Although he wasn't sure how he would describe it, if asked, either. All he knew was, it was the most incredible sensation, and he never wanted it to stop.
Above him, Moira was working hard to maintain a slow and steady pace. Her body was screaming for more, but she had to take his inexperience into account. This inner resolve of hers lasted until he gritted his teeth and gasped out, "Moira, please!" while arching upward.
"Roll with me, accushla." Moira ordered as she gripped his shoulders and twisted. They nearly fell off the bed, but managed to change positions without separating. Ian braced himself on his forearms and looked down into Moira's dark blue eyes. He hesitated for a long moment, simply enjoying the intimacy of their embrace. Then he began to move, letting instinct guide him. His breathing became more and more ragged as he sped up.
Moira's soft little cries became louder, encouraging him. She had really intended to be giving him advice, but she was far beyond the ability to string coherent thoughts together. Not that it mattered, as Ian was doing everything just fine. He shifted slightly over her, and his next thrust touched something inside her she had not thought she possessed. She cried out his name as her entire body shook with the force of her orgasm.
Ian felt her inner muscles clamp down on him as she called his name. The realization that he had given her such pleasure, combined with the feel of her around him, pushed him over the edge as well. His spine bowed as the pleasure seized him. Sweating and spent, he lowered himself down beside Moira. It had been the most incredible night of his life, and he hoped it wasn't over yet.