Author's note: As promised, the next chapter! I hope this starts to help make up for all the time we've missed! Warning, this is NSFW, NC-17, etc. etc... which is the best kind. ) I think you'll see why (as I said a couple of months ago) this is the Author's favorite chapter. )
Part IV: Chapter 17 - And When I Cry
She's pushing up against me with her hips, quite insistently by now, and drawing it out is making me crazy. Having her clothes off but mine on just intensifies it, and I take the opportunity to move my eyes over her body, because it makes her shy. And her shyness makes me want to ravish her.
"That would be nice but it's my turn," I tell her, and she moans a little, and I give her another slow, deep, intense kiss and we are both breathing heavily, both getting a little sticky from my slow pressing down against her. I've interlocked my fingers with hers, to keep her hands off of me, even though I want to feel them on my skin. But that has to wait.
"Tell me what you want," I whisper to her. Her eyes close, her face flushed, and then she opens her eyes again and answers me, her voice heavy, husky with arousal.
"I want you. . . inside of me," she says, hesitant to say it, but the effect works on both of us. I draw a breath with her, her stomach and chest pressing against me as she breathes.
"What part of me do you want inside of you?" I ask, pressing her, my right hand sliding down over her belly, around her hip, and then tracing over her inner thigh. My fingers slip up higher, slowly, until they encounter the hot wetness there and she sucks in her breath, moving underneath me, her breath quickening.
"You. . . your. . . " She doesn't know what to say, or she just can't; instead, she presses her hips up against me, insistently, and the pressure of the strap-on causes a distracting pulsation between my legs. I give in; I lower my hand, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans. I quickly lift my hips, push my jeans half-way down my ass, and then I'm against her again, the strap-on pressing between her legs. I hear a low whimper from her throat. Her face is flushed, her eyes closed.
"Look at me," I tell her again in a low voice. She opens her eyes and looks at my face, so close to hers, and she keeps closing her eyes because it's too intense for her and I know it, and that's why I want her to look at me. I take hold of the dildo with one hand, shifting so that it is touching her, my fingers wet from her body, and with my eyes on hers, I press all the way in with one slow, deep thrust.
She squeezes me with her thighs, takes a deep shuddering breath, and I thrust again. She wants to close her eyes, to turn her face away, but I put one hand on her cheek and turn her face to me as I continue to push slowly and deeply into her.
"Look at me, Jamie," I whisper, "look at me. . ." She opens her eyes again and meets mine; with every deep thrust, her eyelids flutter a little, but I keep my eyes locked on hers and she doesn't look away, even though I know she wants to. I feel a surge of arousal remembering her dark eyes intently watching me from the crowd for so many nights. "When you watched me onstage," I go on, "what were you thinking about?" Her lips part, and when her thighs squeeze me, I push one of her knees back, which allows me to push into her more deeply. She bites her lip a little, closing her eyes.
"Your. . . your fingers. Your. . . lips," she moans, trying but not quite able to make sentences.
"Did you imagine my mouth doing this?" I ask her, lowering my head, closing my mouth over her breast and sucking one of her nipples, not slowing the rhythm of my pelvis against hers, the silicon sliding into her. She moans again, her back arching a little, lifting her chest against my mouth. I kiss my way up her chest and neck until I reach her mouth again, her lips moist, a little swollen, and I kiss her softly, then more deeply, tasting her tongue as we breathe hard together.
"No. . ." she whispers a moment later, ". . . yes. . ." She wraps her legs around me, then, rocks against me as I push down into her again and again, and I feel her heels digging into my lower back. "Tegan," she whimpers, in a voice that reminds me of Sara in a way that I can't think about right now, "Can I. . . touch you? Please?" It's the ache in her voice that reminds me of Sara, the way she said my name before she came in her bunk on our tour bus.
"Where do you want to touch me?" I ask, my hips pumping harder now, and she's having trouble looking at me, keeping her eyes open. We're both sweating, and the wetness of her stomach is making my t-shirt stick to me.
"I. . . your skin, your body. . ." Her voice is all breathy, and she squeezes my fingers which are still gripping hers. "Please. . ."
I release her hands at last, and she immediately touches my face, her fingers sliding through my hair, over my shoulders, and then around my back. Her fingers are tugging at my shirt and I smile at her as she tries to pull it up, but I don't help her do it because I like it this way. She's all flushed and damp and now there's tension all through her neck and her face and I feel her thighs start to tremble against my hips as I thrust into her. She's getting close. . .
I slow down a little, press less deeply into her. Her face is tense, her eyes shut tight, and her hands slide down to my hips, dig into my flesh, squeezing me.
"Ohhhh. . . no, no. . ." she whimpers and I chuckle softly. "Don't stop. . ." she moans.
"What do you need?" I ask her, even though it's obvious.
"Fast. . . faster. . ." she moans, and I speed up, and her head goes back a little bit, and she is clawing at my hips, pulling me to her hard so I press deeper again, and then again, until it all happens at once: her thighs, shaking, start squeezing me as her back arches, pressing her stomach against mine as her head goes back all the way.
"Oh. . ." she starts, moaning deeply. I move inside her faster, deeper, for a few seconds and then I start to back off again and she was so close, almost there, and she whimpers in anguish as I slow down again.
"Oh God. . ." she moans. "Oh God. . . Please, oh, fuck. . ." Her belly spasms against me a little bit.
"Say my name," I murmur to her.
"Tegan," she moans. "Tegan please. . ."
"Do you want me to fuck you harder?" I ask in a low voice and she nods, quickly, tensely, her face betraying her response to my words.
"Uh huh," she moans.
"Deeper?"
"Yes," she breathes, heavily.
"I can make it take longer," I tease, and she squeezes me, pulling my ass against her.
"Ohhhhh no. . . no. . . now," she whimpers. "Please. . . please. . ." She's breathing quickly, the pulsations in her body giving me shivers, so I start to move again, deeper and faster again, watching her face, our hips together, and in a few more seconds I feel her getting closer again, and this time, I am too. Her face, her voice, her hot naked skin are all getting me there, and her hips pressing against mine are going to finish me off, I know it.
"Oh fuck. . ." she says, her arms around me now, her ankles locked around my back. "Oooohhhhh. . ." As the spasms start inside of me, I nearly lose my rhythm, but she squeezes me and I press deeply, not slowing as she starts to squeeze me, starts to gasp. She moans, she says my name again, again, her back arching, her naked breasts pressed against mine, her skin hot and damp and I want to be naked with her.
"Say. . . my name. . . again," I breathe against her lips.
"Tegan. . . Tegan, oh. . . " she moans, and hearing her say my name like that, her voice trembling a little, pushes me closer. We are both almost there, so I slip my hands under her thighs and push back so that her legs slide up over my shoulders. She sucks her breath in sharply, surprised, and then I slide my hands under her shoulders so that I can pull against her, so I do, and as I thrust into her more deeply still, and there's an edge of pain in her voice but her hands are in my hair again, pulling me closer, a few more moments, a few more times.
"Are you coming, Jamie?" I whisper to her.
"Don't stop!" she cries, and the state she's in, there is pain in her voice when she says it.
"Okay, okay. . ." I breathe, shifting back on my knees, pressing one hand against her thigh, and my eyes wander down and then I see, as my hips press into her, I see the thing, and the point where it slides into her and back out again, wet, oh my God, and then the wave of contractions hits me.
"Oh fuck," I groan, but she is almost there and I can't slow down, her thighs are shaking, her mouth open a little.
"Ohhhh," she gasps with me, and I close my eyes. "Oh. . ." she pants, "Tegan. . . Tegan. . . Tegan. . ." A few more thrusts, faster and harder, and I am coming as she puts a hand on my cheek, her fingers trembling, and, perhaps accidentally, she presses her thumb into my mouth and she comes, hard, and I do too, sucking on her thumb and moaning as she lets out a long, trembling cry, her body spasming and shaking underneath me again and again. Her other hand is around my neck, pulling my face closer as she cries out again, and I don't stop, my hips drive into her again, again, again.
"Oh, fuck, oh!" she cries, again, covering her face with her arm, reminding me of Sara again, my mouth on her neck, and then on her ear. She grabs a fistful of hair at the back of my neck with her other hand, unconsciously pulling my hair, like she did in Vancouver the first time my fingers felt the inside of her. She shudders beneath me, once, twice, pulling my face to hers. She presses her lips against my face, spasming again, with a little gasp. "Ohhh," she says, and I shift so that she can lower her legs and I lay back down between her knees. Her breaths deepening as mine do the same. She holds my face between her hands and kisses my lips and I press into her again and she holds her breath, squeezing me. I push slowly again and she gasps, grasping my open jeans with both hands to stop me.
"Oh, " she murmurs. I press again and she moans. "Tegan, ah, ah, ah. . ."
"No more?" I ask her, with a kiss, and she sighs against my lips.
She murmurs softly, shaking her head.
"You only came once, though," I point out.
"Haha, but. . ." I kiss her neck again twice, slowly, her warm skin salty against my mouth. "Uh, wow. . ." she laughs a little, shyly. I tuck her hair behind her ear.
"You did scream," I point out smugly and she scowls at me, blushing.
"Shut up," she murmurs, her deep breaths pushing her hot damp body against me. I kiss her softly.
"I can do it again. . ."
"I think. . . my. . . it's. . . a little. . .sore. . ."
"Ohhh," I say, kissing her again. "I'm sorry."
"No no," she murmurs, kissing me back softly.
"I'll pull out," I whisper to her and she nods, so I gingerly withdraw the strap-on from her body. "Ohhh," she sighs as I do. I slide down next to her, and when I glance down at the thing that's strapped to me, nearly as pale as my own flesh, I get a jolt of surprise.
"Oh shit," I say, and she looks from my face, down my body to the strap-on.
"Oh wow," she murmurs. "Holy. . ."
"Are you okay?" I ask, worried.
"Yeah, I think so. . . " she murmurs, her breaths still quick and a little shaky.
"Do you. . . need anything? I mean. . ." Neither of us seem to know. She puts her arms around me and I lie down with her, taking a moment to loosen the harness and pull the dildo out of it before pulling her in close to me.
"No, it's okay. It's happened before. . . hasn't it ever happened to you before?" she asks me, and now we're lying on our sides, facing each other. She's still red-faced and damp. I grab the blanket and pull it up and over her naked shoulders and she inches closer to me.
"No, yeah, I mean. . . just the first couple of times I think?" One of her knees is up over my hip; her legs are still trembling. I put my hand on her leg, softly stroking her thigh.
"Jeremy?" she asks and I nod. "How was that?" she asks curiously. I smile, shrug a little.
"Well, you know. He's as gay as a picnic basket. . ." I say and she laughs. "And then there's me. I mean I had no hair, I looked like a little boy. But, honestly, I mean, we were so young. Teenagers are curious and, like. . . horny."
"Right, unlike now," she says with a cheeky grin, and I snort.
"Well, I can hardly be blamed, can I, with a sexy motherfucker like you around. . ." She grins, slips a hand around the back of my neck and kisses me. I recall that first time, with Jeremy. . . in my basement bedroom, which shared a wall with Sara's. Jeremy and I, lying on my bed, chatting, kissing a little bit, which is all we'd ever done, but then we could hear Sara in her room, with her girlfriend; I could hear her moans through the wall, the occasional knocking sound as the bed bumped into the wall. Hearing her voice like that made me hot all over, filled me with confusion, fear, but mostly it made me need desperately to relieve the overwhelming tension it made me feel. I kissed him harder, and it surprised him, but I could feel that it made him start to get harder against me too, so I did it again. I remember him, with his pants half-way down, on top of me. It's... I can't... he murmurs, a little distraught, shy like me as I lower my hand, the softness of the skin giving me a start as I help him get it in and then it is, he's inside me, and there's something shocking and foreign about having him inside of my body and I think it's shocking and foreign to him too because his eyes widen and he makes a low gasp as he pushes into me and I can hear Sara's voice as she comes, just there on the other side of the wall and I imagine her face as I look up at Jeremy's, imagine her naked body as I hold onto his shirt. Something is strange about it, something makes me feel helpless, but it's him and I know him so it's okay and as soon as I relax a little and start moving with him, his face tenses, reddens, and it's not long at all before he starts thrusting faster and comes with a startled gasp. . .
"Pretty quick, I guess?" she asks.
"Pretty quick, haha, yes. But he's a sweet guy, a fun guy. . . it was really, like. . . I mean there were like. . . it was enough."
"Enough?" she asks, because I am not making sense.
"Haha, okay. . . I mean, it wasn't going to be an earth-shattering experience for either of us, was it? It was like, a horny teenage experiment at best. But he was a good person to have the experiment with. We were kind of clumsy and awkward and it didn't last long. But he was gentle and funny and it was okay that it was clumsy and awkward. We didn't care. No bad feelings."
"Aww," she says warmly, her eyes a little shiny. It surprises me that a story like that could move her. "But that wasn't your first first time," she says, not a question.
"No," I admit with that familiar tightening in my throat.
"Sara," she says softly.
"Mm hmm," I answer, swallowing. Her eyes soften.
"That must have been. . ." I wait for an adjective but she stops, uncertain.
"Terrifying," I help. "I came in about two minutes. Guess I can't pick on Jeremy for that." She smiles, brushes my hair back from my forehead, so gentle. "But what about you?" I ask suddenly, and she raises her eyebrows.
"What about me what?" she asks.
"Well you have to tell me about your devirginization story, too. It's only fair." She snorts.
"Ha, okay. It's not an interesting story though, really. . ."
"Tell the truth: I was your first, wasn't I?" I ask and she snorts again.
"Ha. I wish."
"Okay then, spill." She thinks about it, or maybe she's just stalling.
"Well, his name was Nathan. We dated in high school. I was eighteen," she says.
"Nathan."
"Yeah."
"Good? Bad? Indifferent?" She chews on the corner of her lip for a second.
"Well, it wasn't. . . I didn't exactly. . . want to do it," she said. My heart sinks.
"Oh no. . ." I say, uncertain.
"No, I mean. . . yeah, he kind of pressured me, well he really pressured me for like, months, and I kept refusing and then, I don't know. I started to feel bad about it, I guess. . .and I just kind of gave in."
"Oh man. That sucks," I say, sad.
"Well I was stupid. I let him manipulate me. . ."
"What a fucking jerk," I say and I feel like holding her, but she seems okay.
"He wasn't really. That particular. . . incident. . . was not his best moment."
"I want to punch him in the balls," I say and she smiles.
"It's okay."
"Then who was your first love?" I ask her, slipping closer to her, under the blanket.
"Lane Underwood."
"Shut up," I say, because that is not a name.
"Haha, no, seriously! Real name."
"Okay, tell me about him. Her? It. . ."
"We played soccer together in college," she says.
"Hot," I say, imagining it.
"Haha, well. . . we were together for a little over two years."
"So what happened?" I ask.
"Well, she was pretty controlling," she says. And then she's quietly thoughtful for a few moments.
"We don't have to talk about it," I say, because maybe she's sad and that makes me sad.
"It's totally fine to talk about it," she reassures me and she doesn't look sad so I think maybe it's okay.
"How was she controlling?" I ask her.
"She was just like. . . she was jealous of my friends. She didn't like it if I went out with friends who were lesbians. Which was pretty limiting, since most of my friends were soccer teammates, haha."
"That's silly," I say.
"Yeah. And that jealousy, like. . . she would just. . . it would make her mean. She'd cut me down, whenever she could. In public. In front of friends, my family. . . I don't know. She didn't feel good about herself so she wanted me to feel shitty about myself too. And I kind of did feel shitty about myself anyways at that point so it was easily done." I take a moment, feeling stupid that I had been sleeping with her and not knowing any of these things. It made me feel incredibly self-absorbed.
"I think I hate everyone you've ever been with," I say. She smirks.
"I guess I don't have very good judgment when it comes to partners. . ." she laughs bitterly.
"Hey!" I reply, in mock offense. Her face softens.
"So is that what you are?" she asks quietly, teasing but not. I feel myself flush deeply, my chest fluttering with both pleasure and confusion. I don't know how to respond.
"I. . . well that's. . . haha, um. . . you left her, I guess?" I go on, hoping she'll let it go.
"Yeah. . . one night, we got in a fight and she got a bit rough with me and I left."
"Oh Jesus," I say, feeling stupider by the minute. "She hit you or. . .?"
"Yeah, slapped me, shoved me around a little bit."
"Holy fuck, I want to punch her in the balls, too," I say and she laughs, thank God. "That fucking sucks. I'm so sorry that happened to you."
"Yeah it sucked. It's one thing to date an asshole and quite another to fall in love with one. I felt like a fucking idiot for a long time."
"Love makes us all into idiots," I say and she smiles at me warmly.
"True."
"I mean, my first love was Sara. How stupid is that?" I laugh and my heart starts to split open and she sees it. Her hands on my face are gentle and she kisses me and looks sad.
"No," she says. "No."
"Life is stupid," I say, blinking back the blurriness in my eyes.
"Yeah, sometimes," she agrees.
"Usually."
"Usually," she says. "So, I was just wondering, uh. . . where you found the strap-on?" she asks me with a little grin, and I smile back at her.
"Uh, well, I had to. . . I opened your night stand to look for some tissues and I found this. . ." She smirks at me. "It served my purpose."
"What happened to yours?" she asks, and I see Sara's ass wrapped in that slut's thighs and my stomach drops.
"Uh, mine was. . . not clean and. . . can we, uh, talk about that a little later?"
"Aww, sure," she says softly, and kisses my lips for a moment.
"Are you okay?" I ask, my fingers tracing along her belly, gingerly, and then lower. She catches my hand, draws it up a few inches and presses it against her stomach.
"Yeah but I think it's kind of a disaster down there."
"Sorry," I say.
"You should be," she says, kissing me again, our breath condensing in the frigid air as we roll ourselves tighter into that old grey blanket, the one that had covered the credenza, that belonged to her grandmother.