He breathes in and out slowly, focusing on regaining at least a portion, even the smallest particle of control. The warmth of her body against his soothes him, even as the tremble that he can feel in her hand on his head worries him a little. He feels raw, scoured inside and out, left flush with satisfaction, clean and new, but ashamed.
Ashamed and guilty and worried — he had taken her with no more care and consideration than an animal, sitting on a table, for God's sake, as if she were nothing more than means to an end. And yet, all he can think about is doing it all again — rough and hard and over and over — until he possesses her completely.
Her quiet sigh interrupts his obsessive thoughts — her legs slip from around his hips to dangle from the table edge, and he feels her other arm come around him and rub against his skin.
Wait, he thinks, struggling to gather his thoughts together, wait, there's something I need…
Before he can speak, her chin hooks over his shoulder and he feels her breath tease down his back.
"Red," very quietly, "Is this… Are those from the fire?"
With more reluctance than he ever imagined, he lifts his head from its nest in the crook of her neck and pulls away from her, just enough so that he can look her in the eyes.
"Yes." The simplest answer.
She looks at him carefully, evaluating his expression. "All right," she says calmly, touching his face as if to ease him. "I already knew that you were there that night, Red. I just didn't know you'd been hurt, let alone so terribly. Do you want to tell me about it?"
He looks back at her, taken a little aback by the question, by any question rather than demands or recriminations. Her clear, cool face shows nothing but sincerity.
"Not really," he says honestly. "It's an ugly story."
"Okay," she replies, surprising him more. "Then why don't we forget it for now, go somewhere a little more comfortable, and do this again?"
He laughs at that, low and rich, then puts his hands on her face and kisses her soundly. "Great minds, Lizzie." And he offers her a hand.
His room is the closest, so they end up there.
He turns her to face him, drinks her in, lean and strong, in nothing but her damp bra. "Lizzie," he growls, suddenly ravenous again.
She smiles slowly at him, eyes darkening, the loveliest flush spreading from her face down her body. Without looking away, she reaches back to unhook her bra, and then lets it slip from her body and waits, naked and unashamed, for his response.
A shudder runs through him like an electric current, sparks of fiery heat following its path along his veins like a fuse has just been lit. He flexes his fingers, tries to take her all in at once, not sure where he wants to touch first. His cock has no such delicacy, and twitches eagerly, already beginning to harden again; she sees it and grins at him like a cat.
Before he can blink she has dropped to her knees and taken him into her mouth, her hand coming up to grip him at the base, her delicate fingers unpredictably strong. With a moan, his hands come up to rest on her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. Her mouth is like a furnace around him, her tongue soft and questing. She takes a long draw of him, her mouth sliding up to the head of him, teasing at the tip with her tongue. He moans again, Lizzie, his fingers tightening in her hair, trying to keep his hips from thrusting forward as his cock thickens and hardens under her ministrations.
She hums a little as he swells to fill her, enjoying his reactions, then sucks him back into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she pulls him deep. She moves her head, now, sliding up and down his length, her hand working him in tandem with her lips and tongue and (God) just a light touch of teeth.
He's slick now, with her saliva and his own pre-ejaculate, and the sounds emanating from their joining along with the sight of himself driving in and out of her are maddeningly erotic. He's hard as a stone, and the ache in his balls as he starts to quicken is too much. Not this time, not yet, he thinks, he needs to be inside her more than anything else.
He tugs on her hair, a little desperate; her dark eyes look up at him through her lashes, and the sheer lust in her gaze pierces him like a knife. Giving up any and all pretense of control, he yanks her off and up, his dick coming out of her mouth with a small wet pop.
She licks her lips, savouring, and he can't, he just can't. "Red," she murmurs huskily, but there's nothing left but the hunger and the pounding need to mate. He plunders her mouth with his own, reaching down her damp body to thrust two fingers inside her, hard and fast. She's wet already, already or still, and he drives her quickly and ruthlessly to a quivering climax. She's still shaking with it under and around his hands as he spins her around, presses a hand against her back to urge her torso to lie flat on the bed.
He takes a moment, just one, to look at her — the long line of her back, the dark tumble of her hair against the white sheets, the pale, lovely curve of her ass in the air before him. The sight is almost enough to undo him before he has a chance to touch her again.
He bends over her to nip at her neck, to lick down the bumps of her spine; she's trembling beneath him, lost in want, reaching back to clutch at him with a shaking hand. He wonders if the drumbeat in his ears is his own heartbeat or hers, and decides it must be both.
He gently kicks her feet apart, exposing her saturated folds and opening her to him. Bracing himself with a firm hand on her back, he thrusts in right to the root with no further preamble, unable to wait, unable to gentle himself.
She lets out a choked cry in response; the force of his thrust pushing her into the side of the bed, the angle making it more difficult to take him in. He shifts a little — grasps one of her wrists in each hand and pins them to the mattress beside her head, learning over her without quite touching her as he starts to plunge in and out in earnest.
She utters a near-constant stream of the most delightful moans, cries, and gasps; never has he imagined that she would be so vocal a lover, so responsive to every touch when she is normally so reserved, as if something has been unleashed inside her that she has kept hidden for far too long.
She clutches at the sheets beneath her, and the feel of the hot, wet walls of her pussy beginning to tighten around him is enough to send him spiraling. He keens wordlessly as she sobs out his name again, pulsing together in a violent and unrelenting orgasm that leaves them both limp and breathless.
Still buried deep inside her, completely undone, he lets his body drop into hers, their sweat-soaked bodies sticking together. With his face in her hair, he breathes in her scent — salt and citrus and more than a hint of his own spicy musk. With the very last of his strength, he rolls his body so it's fully on the bed, pulling her up after and wrapping himself around her.
As she sighs contentedly, snuggling back into his body, he wonders how it's possible that he still wants so badly. He wonders, a little madly, that if these first times together haven't done it, if this raging desire within him can ever be quenched.