BDP35
Ian was holding on to his self-control with both metaphysical hands. He had been waiting for weeks to be alone with Moira. Finally here he was, sitting on the edge of her bed, and all they were doing was talking. The conversation was important, but as time went on it began to seem less so.
He shifted slightly on the mattress, wondering how to broach the subject. Ian did not know how to redirect the situation without sounding crass. When Moira mentioned that first night they had together, he saw an opportunity to change the focus of the discussion. "Speaking of that night, I believe you owe me a shower check."
"Yes, I do." Moira let her hand slide up from the hand she had been holding, over the crisp cotton of his b.d.u. shirt, to rest on his chest.
Ian's heart was beating faster just from the touch of her hand. He wondered if she could feel it through her palm. "I feel like I've been starving for your touch."
She leaned forward to kiss the hollow of his throat so he would not see the tears threatening to fall. He was not a casual toucher, like most people. He kept himself contained at all times. She had thought of it as natural reserve, but what if he didn't know how to reach out to others? Or didn't Ian think he was allowed? She moved her lips up the side of his neck until she could murmur against his ear, "I shall do my best to sate your hunger."
Ian shivered at the heated whisper. His groan was much louder, "Moira."
Moira covered his lips with her fingers, "Shhh, accushla. Bí ciúin. Remember this is base housing. The walls are like paper. Unless you want everyone to know what we're doing, best be quiet."
"I don't know if I can be that quiet." Ian replied honestly, his body was already screaming. How long until his voice followed suit?
"Let's move to the bathroom. The running water should muffle any sounds we make. I usually sleep with the fan on to create white noise; it helps block the neighbors out. I've just been to paranoid to have it on these last few nights." Moira tossed the sheet back and slid out of bed.
Ian paused for a moment, content to watch her move. Moira was wearing a black slip-style nightgown that flowed around her legs like silk. She was a study in contrasts, the indifferent lighting leaching all color away. It left white skin with black hair falling to mingle with the black of her dress like an ink drawing from the twenties.
"Were you coming?" Moira asked from the doorway. Ian had not moved from the bed.
Ian stood silently. He stalked toward her, "Soon, mo rhun, but not before you."
His words made her stomach tighten. Ian was radiating sexual hunger like a star. It was incredibly arousing. Part of her was amazed they'd gotten this far without either of them spontaneously combusting.
The steady hiss of water on tile broke the silence. Moira slid the straps over her shoulders and let her nightdress drop to the floor. She glanced back over her shoulder at Ian, who hadn't moved from the doorway, "Aren't you a little overdressed?"
"I was hoping you'd help me with that. I have this wonderful tactile memory of your hands unbuttoning my pants." Ian trailed off with a purr, his fingers playing along the fly of his trousers.
"Ah, but don't you want to make new memories?" Moira arched a brow, "I seem to remember you wanting to try hard and fast."
A flush, partly of embarrassment, partly of desire, suffused his cheeks. He rallied after a moment and replied, "If that is what you desire, I certainly won't object."
"I've had more than a few dreams about it, I will admit. You gave me a bad time that night you know. I was trying to make your first experience everything it should be, and you were telling me you wanted to push me up against the wall and take me. You have the most incredibly sexy voice. I almost gave in and let you have your way, there at the end. I wondered about it after, how it would have felt. I was afraid I was never going to find out." Moira coyly glanced up at Ian through her lashes.
"My voice is sexy?" Ian asked in surprise. He had never considered anything about himself 'sexy'.
"Very sexy. Especially when you're saying something naughty. That day at the lab, when you told me you wanted to throw my clipboard across the room? I spent the rest of the day thinking about it. I didn't get a damn thing done for fantasizing about us having sex on the lab table." Now it was Moira's turn to blush. If the lab had not been bugged, she would have tried it by now.
"Oh really?" Ian smiled wickedly, glad he was not the only one affected by the idea. He had spent many a restless night thinking about it as well. He eased the shirt over his head, paused for a moment, and tossed it behind him.
The slow baring of chest held her gaze captive. Then, just when he was stretched full length, he paused. Ian was giving her a nice unobstructed view before dropping his hands to the first button on his waistband. When her brain could work again, Moira wondered if he'd done that on purpose. Deciding that fair was fair, Moira mimicked his pose, stretching her arms above her head and arching her spine.
It was too much for Ian in his current state. All rational thought drowned under a wave of desire. He stalked toward her, half- unbuttoned trousers riding low on his hips. 'Hard and fast' had just expanded to include 'now'.
Some feminine instinct warned her that Ian was not playing any more. The intensity of his gaze was both exciting and a little frightening. She gave ground as he moved, backing slowly into the shower. Moira barely felt the stream of water striking her flesh, so absorbed was she in Ian's burning amber gaze.
Ian paused just outside the open shower door. He toed his boots off while watching the water slide down Moira's ivory flesh to bead in her black hair. The droplets glistened like diamond in the dim light, drawing the eye. He wanted to follow the path of moisture with his hands and lips.
His hands moved to finish unbuttoning his trousers, the motion drawing Moira's attention back down to the arrow of dark hair. It disappeared into the shadow made by the tantalizing vee of fabric. She remembered how springy and slightly coarse the hair had felt under her hands.
Moira was tempted to step out of the spray and help him, despite her teasing words earlier. It was as much a pleasure for her as for him to help take his clothes off. Maybe more.but she wanted this to be at his pace and she didn't think he had the patience left for a slow unveiling. Especially as she didn't think she could keep from nibbling and licking every inch she freed from it's cloth covering.
She watched as he hooked his fingers under the waistband and shoved. It was a violent burst of motion that told Moira she was right; he was at the end of his patience. He kicked his pants free of his feet. Then he leaned over to remove his socks, exposing a long length of spine.
When he straightened Moira shivered at the wildness in his eyes, in spite of the warm water. His face was a mask of need and hunger as he moved into the shower. He reached out and pulled her to him, dropping his head to ravage her mouth.
Her head bent back under the onslaught, arching her white neck. Once he had thoroughly explored the recesses of her mouth, he moved to her exposed throat. A soft whimper escaped Moira's passion-swollen lips as he closed his teeth over the side of her neck. It was a move of possession, and she knew that she was now marked.
The small sound was all the encouragement Ian needed. His hands roved feverishly over her body as he worked to indelibly imprint the feel of his beloved in his hands. Moira was a heady combination of soft and strong, the muscles under the skin sleek and well delineated without being masculine.
It was rather like stroking a cat. His cat. It was very important that she understand that she belonged to him and him alone. The thought of another male touching her like this made him growl possessively and tighten his grasp. Moira gave a gasp of protest at the sudden constriction. Ian misinterpreted the sound, believing it to be an objection to his claim.
That was not to be tolerated. Moira was his, and there was no room in him for ambivalence. She was going to know, to the depths of her soul, that she was his mate. He inserted a foot between hers and used it to broaden her stance. It left her completely open to his touch. He placed his left hand on the small of her back, to keep her from moving away while his right moved to the black curls that crowned the juncture of her thighs.
She arched under his ardent touch, finding it infinitely more exciting than the practiced hands of any of her previous lovers. Perhaps it was the possessiveness. He wasn't just touching; he was claiming. When he inserted one finger into her, it was too much for her overloading senses. She bucked up against his hand, biting her lip to keep from screaming in pleasure.
Her reaction fanned the flames burning in his groin. He buried his face in her hair with a groan. He wanted to drive himself in her to the hilt. Moira was more than ready for him, he could feel her inner muscles clenching rhythmically around his forefinger. He couldn't wait any longer. He removed his hand, despite her almost incoherent complaint, and placed it on her hip.
Ian shifted, trying to find the right angle for penetration. The difference in height meant he had to bend his knees somewhat. He was almost too excited for control, his shaft rubbing along her clitoris as he moved against her. Moira reached down to help him, as she was all but frantic from the stimulation for him to continue.
A low growl trickled from Ian's lips. He didn't want any help, however well meant. He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head against the shower wall. He was taking her, not the other way around. Not this time. He deepened his stance slightly and everything suddenly lined up. He flexed his hips, thrusting into her as deeply as he could.
Moira gave a soft cry and arched under him. She could not move much, he had her well and truly pinned to the cool tile wall. His body blocked most of the spray from the shower, but the water poured over him and down across her body in rivulets. She could easily close her eyes and pretend they were under a waterfall in the jungle. It was a more fitting surrounding to their primal mating than her plain old shower. She surrendered to the moment and gave her self up into his keeping.
Ian was relentless, pounding into her with a strong and steady rhythm. He had shed all his formidable restraint, and was vaguely aware that his behavior was very atypical. He didn't care. The only thing that was important now was the drive to mate. He had to get deeper, needed to spill his seed in her womb. His thrusts were driving her back into the tile, but Moira didn't seem to mind, so he didn't temper his strength.
His female writhed under him, demanding more with her cries, and he was more than willing to accommodate her. Ian increased his pace, watching her reaction. Her head tilted back against the white tile, exposing her throat, as she moaned in response. With a surge of satisfaction he gazed at the mark darkening the side of her neck. His brand of possession was there for all the others to see. He would kill any male who touched her. He dropped his head and licked the bruise, following the line of her throat down to sink his teeth into the spot where neck and shoulder met.
The merging of pain and pleasure sent Moira over the edge. She choked back a shout, knowing that the sound of running water would not cover such a sound, as the orgasm took her. The feel of her muscles contracting around him was enough to bring Ian over the edge with her. He gave a final thrust and came with a muffled roar of masculine triumph.
Pinwheels of light danced behind her eyes, and she left them closed in bliss for a moment longer before opening them again. Ian was watching her when she opened her eyes. Sated sapphire met feral amber, and Moira realized he was not yet done.
Ian was holding on to his self-control with both metaphysical hands. He had been waiting for weeks to be alone with Moira. Finally here he was, sitting on the edge of her bed, and all they were doing was talking. The conversation was important, but as time went on it began to seem less so.
He shifted slightly on the mattress, wondering how to broach the subject. Ian did not know how to redirect the situation without sounding crass. When Moira mentioned that first night they had together, he saw an opportunity to change the focus of the discussion. "Speaking of that night, I believe you owe me a shower check."
"Yes, I do." Moira let her hand slide up from the hand she had been holding, over the crisp cotton of his b.d.u. shirt, to rest on his chest.
Ian's heart was beating faster just from the touch of her hand. He wondered if she could feel it through her palm. "I feel like I've been starving for your touch."
She leaned forward to kiss the hollow of his throat so he would not see the tears threatening to fall. He was not a casual toucher, like most people. He kept himself contained at all times. She had thought of it as natural reserve, but what if he didn't know how to reach out to others? Or didn't Ian think he was allowed? She moved her lips up the side of his neck until she could murmur against his ear, "I shall do my best to sate your hunger."
Ian shivered at the heated whisper. His groan was much louder, "Moira."
Moira covered his lips with her fingers, "Shhh, accushla. Bí ciúin. Remember this is base housing. The walls are like paper. Unless you want everyone to know what we're doing, best be quiet."
"I don't know if I can be that quiet." Ian replied honestly, his body was already screaming. How long until his voice followed suit?
"Let's move to the bathroom. The running water should muffle any sounds we make. I usually sleep with the fan on to create white noise; it helps block the neighbors out. I've just been to paranoid to have it on these last few nights." Moira tossed the sheet back and slid out of bed.
Ian paused for a moment, content to watch her move. Moira was wearing a black slip-style nightgown that flowed around her legs like silk. She was a study in contrasts, the indifferent lighting leaching all color away. It left white skin with black hair falling to mingle with the black of her dress like an ink drawing from the twenties.
"Were you coming?" Moira asked from the doorway. Ian had not moved from the bed.
Ian stood silently. He stalked toward her, "Soon, mo rhun, but not before you."
His words made her stomach tighten. Ian was radiating sexual hunger like a star. It was incredibly arousing. Part of her was amazed they'd gotten this far without either of them spontaneously combusting.
The steady hiss of water on tile broke the silence. Moira slid the straps over her shoulders and let her nightdress drop to the floor. She glanced back over her shoulder at Ian, who hadn't moved from the doorway, "Aren't you a little overdressed?"
"I was hoping you'd help me with that. I have this wonderful tactile memory of your hands unbuttoning my pants." Ian trailed off with a purr, his fingers playing along the fly of his trousers.
"Ah, but don't you want to make new memories?" Moira arched a brow, "I seem to remember you wanting to try hard and fast."
A flush, partly of embarrassment, partly of desire, suffused his cheeks. He rallied after a moment and replied, "If that is what you desire, I certainly won't object."
"I've had more than a few dreams about it, I will admit. You gave me a bad time that night you know. I was trying to make your first experience everything it should be, and you were telling me you wanted to push me up against the wall and take me. You have the most incredibly sexy voice. I almost gave in and let you have your way, there at the end. I wondered about it after, how it would have felt. I was afraid I was never going to find out." Moira coyly glanced up at Ian through her lashes.
"My voice is sexy?" Ian asked in surprise. He had never considered anything about himself 'sexy'.
"Very sexy. Especially when you're saying something naughty. That day at the lab, when you told me you wanted to throw my clipboard across the room? I spent the rest of the day thinking about it. I didn't get a damn thing done for fantasizing about us having sex on the lab table." Now it was Moira's turn to blush. If the lab had not been bugged, she would have tried it by now.
"Oh really?" Ian smiled wickedly, glad he was not the only one affected by the idea. He had spent many a restless night thinking about it as well. He eased the shirt over his head, paused for a moment, and tossed it behind him.
The slow baring of chest held her gaze captive. Then, just when he was stretched full length, he paused. Ian was giving her a nice unobstructed view before dropping his hands to the first button on his waistband. When her brain could work again, Moira wondered if he'd done that on purpose. Deciding that fair was fair, Moira mimicked his pose, stretching her arms above her head and arching her spine.
It was too much for Ian in his current state. All rational thought drowned under a wave of desire. He stalked toward her, half- unbuttoned trousers riding low on his hips. 'Hard and fast' had just expanded to include 'now'.
Some feminine instinct warned her that Ian was not playing any more. The intensity of his gaze was both exciting and a little frightening. She gave ground as he moved, backing slowly into the shower. Moira barely felt the stream of water striking her flesh, so absorbed was she in Ian's burning amber gaze.
Ian paused just outside the open shower door. He toed his boots off while watching the water slide down Moira's ivory flesh to bead in her black hair. The droplets glistened like diamond in the dim light, drawing the eye. He wanted to follow the path of moisture with his hands and lips.
His hands moved to finish unbuttoning his trousers, the motion drawing Moira's attention back down to the arrow of dark hair. It disappeared into the shadow made by the tantalizing vee of fabric. She remembered how springy and slightly coarse the hair had felt under her hands.
Moira was tempted to step out of the spray and help him, despite her teasing words earlier. It was as much a pleasure for her as for him to help take his clothes off. Maybe more.but she wanted this to be at his pace and she didn't think he had the patience left for a slow unveiling. Especially as she didn't think she could keep from nibbling and licking every inch she freed from it's cloth covering.
She watched as he hooked his fingers under the waistband and shoved. It was a violent burst of motion that told Moira she was right; he was at the end of his patience. He kicked his pants free of his feet. Then he leaned over to remove his socks, exposing a long length of spine.
When he straightened Moira shivered at the wildness in his eyes, in spite of the warm water. His face was a mask of need and hunger as he moved into the shower. He reached out and pulled her to him, dropping his head to ravage her mouth.
Her head bent back under the onslaught, arching her white neck. Once he had thoroughly explored the recesses of her mouth, he moved to her exposed throat. A soft whimper escaped Moira's passion-swollen lips as he closed his teeth over the side of her neck. It was a move of possession, and she knew that she was now marked.
The small sound was all the encouragement Ian needed. His hands roved feverishly over her body as he worked to indelibly imprint the feel of his beloved in his hands. Moira was a heady combination of soft and strong, the muscles under the skin sleek and well delineated without being masculine.
It was rather like stroking a cat. His cat. It was very important that she understand that she belonged to him and him alone. The thought of another male touching her like this made him growl possessively and tighten his grasp. Moira gave a gasp of protest at the sudden constriction. Ian misinterpreted the sound, believing it to be an objection to his claim.
That was not to be tolerated. Moira was his, and there was no room in him for ambivalence. She was going to know, to the depths of her soul, that she was his mate. He inserted a foot between hers and used it to broaden her stance. It left her completely open to his touch. He placed his left hand on the small of her back, to keep her from moving away while his right moved to the black curls that crowned the juncture of her thighs.
She arched under his ardent touch, finding it infinitely more exciting than the practiced hands of any of her previous lovers. Perhaps it was the possessiveness. He wasn't just touching; he was claiming. When he inserted one finger into her, it was too much for her overloading senses. She bucked up against his hand, biting her lip to keep from screaming in pleasure.
Her reaction fanned the flames burning in his groin. He buried his face in her hair with a groan. He wanted to drive himself in her to the hilt. Moira was more than ready for him, he could feel her inner muscles clenching rhythmically around his forefinger. He couldn't wait any longer. He removed his hand, despite her almost incoherent complaint, and placed it on her hip.
Ian shifted, trying to find the right angle for penetration. The difference in height meant he had to bend his knees somewhat. He was almost too excited for control, his shaft rubbing along her clitoris as he moved against her. Moira reached down to help him, as she was all but frantic from the stimulation for him to continue.
A low growl trickled from Ian's lips. He didn't want any help, however well meant. He grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head against the shower wall. He was taking her, not the other way around. Not this time. He deepened his stance slightly and everything suddenly lined up. He flexed his hips, thrusting into her as deeply as he could.
Moira gave a soft cry and arched under him. She could not move much, he had her well and truly pinned to the cool tile wall. His body blocked most of the spray from the shower, but the water poured over him and down across her body in rivulets. She could easily close her eyes and pretend they were under a waterfall in the jungle. It was a more fitting surrounding to their primal mating than her plain old shower. She surrendered to the moment and gave her self up into his keeping.
Ian was relentless, pounding into her with a strong and steady rhythm. He had shed all his formidable restraint, and was vaguely aware that his behavior was very atypical. He didn't care. The only thing that was important now was the drive to mate. He had to get deeper, needed to spill his seed in her womb. His thrusts were driving her back into the tile, but Moira didn't seem to mind, so he didn't temper his strength.
His female writhed under him, demanding more with her cries, and he was more than willing to accommodate her. Ian increased his pace, watching her reaction. Her head tilted back against the white tile, exposing her throat, as she moaned in response. With a surge of satisfaction he gazed at the mark darkening the side of her neck. His brand of possession was there for all the others to see. He would kill any male who touched her. He dropped his head and licked the bruise, following the line of her throat down to sink his teeth into the spot where neck and shoulder met.
The merging of pain and pleasure sent Moira over the edge. She choked back a shout, knowing that the sound of running water would not cover such a sound, as the orgasm took her. The feel of her muscles contracting around him was enough to bring Ian over the edge with her. He gave a final thrust and came with a muffled roar of masculine triumph.
Pinwheels of light danced behind her eyes, and she left them closed in bliss for a moment longer before opening them again. Ian was watching her when she opened her eyes. Sated sapphire met feral amber, and Moira realized he was not yet done.