Hero races into the bedroom, laughing as she whirls to meet John, running in after to catch her. There is a moment where their eyes lock and their breathing stalls, holding onto one another — then his mouth crashes upon hers and her hands slide up into his hair. Their bodies meld together, nothing but the wet layer of clothes between them and no audience to interrupt.
She kisses him, fierce and eager, exploring his mouth from every angle, sucking the grape juice from his lips. Her fingers curl in his shirt and the damp locks of his hair, crushing him to her as she rises on her tiptoes, straining for more. Flame courses through her body, set to combust. She is on fire and he is her air as she blazes hotter, brighter. She wants him. She wants him. She wants him.
Her fingers scramble blind over the buttons of his shirt, slipping them out of their holes. He chuckles into her mouth, his own hands caressing her back, her rumpled dress plastered to her spine like a second skin — and it's not enough, not enough, she needs his hands on her bare form, she needs him to touch her everywhere.
She steers him, stumbling backwards towards the bed, never letting their mouths part for more than a fraction of a second, drawing in air then diving back in. His hands clench around her hips, his thighs pressing into hers. The back of her legs hit the bed and she unbalances—
He catches her in his strong arms, supporting her weight as he holds her to him. Her fingers hook in his collar dragging him down with her as she sinks onto the bed. He follows, climbing on top of her. Their bedraggled clothes make a sort-of squelching sound and his mouth retreats.
"We'll stain the sheets…"
She hauls him back to her, speaking into his lips. "There are spares."
He hums appreciatively into her mouth, his hands stroking up and down the length of her. He kisses her so deep it leaves her gasping, tickling something far-down in her core.
His voice is low and thick, "I've wanted… to do this… since we met… on the bus."
She giggles, fingers tightening in his hair, legs spreading to accommodate him between her thighs. "Not the train? Was the morning sickness not attractive enough for you?"
"I admit…" he chuckles, trailing kisses to her jaw, fingers raking through her curls, "...it's not a come-on I've experienced before."
Her hands return to the buttons of his shirt. "One way to get a man out of his clothes."
He grins, kissing her dimples. "You could ask."
"Oh?" She drags a single finger from his throat to his exposed chest and flutters her lashes. "Please?"
She sees his throat bob and smiles. He pushes off her, kneeling between her legs as he shoves aside his suspenders and undoes the rest of his shirt, stripping it off. Hero marvels as his bare chest is revealed, hands rising to touch him. He is lean, not built of muscle, but the evidence of his recent service is there in the firm plains beneath her palms. She feels them ripple as he draws in a breath.
There are scars here too, where his body has been ravaged by flame and shrapnel. She aches looking at them and her fingers stretch to soothe the pink, distortion of flesh. His hand catches hers, halting her touch. She lifts her gaze to his own. His face flickers like a shutter in the breeze, creased with the echo of pain. She turns her head to where his fingers clutch hers tight and kisses his fist. He goes still above her.
"John…" She bestows a kiss to each knuckle, before leaning her head against their entwined hands. "Will you leave a girl waiting?"
Something flashes in his eyes, the hairs on her skin rising with a fizzle of electricity, and then he dives in, mashing their lips together, licking the inside of her mouth.
She almost digs a knee into his gut as her legs clamp around his sides. "Sorry!"
He laughs and she loves how it feels rumbling down her throat, effusing her with giddiness and joy. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down upon her, wanting to kiss him until her lips are sore and tingling with the taste of him.
"John… John…" she sighs, his name rolling from her tongue onto his own, his hands scorch across her body, and she wants to know nothing but him. "John."
Her knees grip his hips, her dress puddling around her waist. The damp fabric clings uncomfortably to her skin and she pushes John away, enough to signal her wish to undress. His hands fumble with her skirt and then, with her aid, he peels off her dress, her shift going with it, leaving her in a plain bra and underwear. She is struck by a quiver of self-consciousness as he drinks her in, but his face is soft with admiration and the knots in her stomach unravel.
"You're beautiful," he murmurs, lowering himself back upon her and pressing the words into her lips. "It hit me the first time I saw you and every moment since. Beautiful." He drags the word down her throat, breathes it along her clavicle. "Beautiful." His fingers trail sparks over her bare skin as his mouth moves lower, lower, just like in her dream. "Gorgeous."
"John…" her fingers thread through his hair, eyes fluttering shut, her senses narrowed to the warm caress of his mouth.
She doesn't remember it being this slow and sensual with Bertram. Perhaps… in the beginning. After she had given herself to him and he was sure of her it became a fast fumble of clothes, a rush to sheath himself inside her and achieve satisfaction. Most of their liaisons occurred in his office, sometimes the lecture hall or other places around campus where there was always the threat of being caught. Pleasurable enough, but a flash in the pan compared to this slow burn. John touches her like he wants to savour her and she is not sure she can bear it. She thinks she will scorch to cinders before he even gets inside her.
"John… John, please."
Her hands rove over the ridges of his chest, groping for his trousers — and this would be easier if his mouth weren't so distracting. Her fingers latch in his hair and she pulls hard. He grunts and she shoves his chest, using her legs to twist him onto his back. He lets out an oof, staring at her with wide eyes, pupils expanding, turning the irises black, as she straddles his waist.
She smiles, running her hands over his chest. "You are not the only one who has wanted this since the bus."
He flashes a rogue's grin and she bends to kiss him, the curve of it splitting something open inside of her, silver and pearls spilling out.
"I want you so bad," she gasps and her hands find the zipper of his trousers, pulling it down.
"I couldn't tell," he drawls as she scrabbles to get his sodden trousers down his legs. He watches her struggle, throwing an arm behind his head.
It is not a smooth feat, grappling against the damp fabric that wants to cling to John as desperately as she does, but she succeeds in the end, dragging his trousers down to his ankles with a triumphant exclamation.
He chuckles, kicking his trousers to the floor. "Now that's sorted, will you kiss me?"
She tiptoes her fingers along his thigh, "But there's more I can do down here."
She snaps the hem of his briefs, fingers skirting towards the obvious bulge straining beneath. He surges upwards, scooping her into his arms. He kisses like a raging inferno and she is a pan about to boil-over.
"I want us both to enjoy this." He nips at her lips, his fingers slipping under the back of her bra.
"I would enjoy it," she argues, but is pleased enough to kiss him, sucking on his tongue.
It takes a moment but John unclasps her bra and she leans back to slide the straps from her shoulders, casting it to the floor with the rest of their clothes. He inhales at the sight of her naked breasts and she tries not to breathe, her hands clutching the sheets, the nervous beat of wings in her stomach. His palms settle around the underside of her breasts and a shiver goes through her though his hands are not cold. Some of her agitation releases as he gazes on her in reverence.
He spreads his hands, engulfing both her breasts, applying first a gentle pressure then kneading the supple flesh. She releases soft sounds of encouragement, little whimpers and mews. It has been so long since someone touched her like this — the hands on her are coarse and calloused and so much John's, warmth pools at her base.
He captures one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, tweaking the bud as he palms the other breast. She rocks against him with a moan, feeling the tenting hardness in his underwear. She needs to see it, needs to touch him. She grips the band of his briefs and tugs on them impatiently, her hand sliding down the back to cup his bare ass-cheek.
He jolts, teeth catching on her bottom lip, and shifts back, removing his underwear as she does the same, leaving them both naked.
Her gaze drags over him, fixing on his swollen cock, the tip glistening with precome. Her hand is closing around him before she can think, running along the hard length of him. He might be bigger than Bertram, but her memories of the professor are foggy, all of her attention on John, whose breath hitches as she touches him, a sound that is part keening, part growl escaping him.
"He-Hero—"
She hums, stroking his cock, watching as it twitches in her hands, leaking his excitement. The man himself clenches his jaw, fists bunching in the bed-sheet, knuckles white. She can't resist, with his eyes screwed shut he does not see her bend to place a gentle kiss to his head.
A groan shudders through him and his eyes snap open. With a sound low in his throat like an animal he pounces, flattening her on her back and pinning her to the bed.
"Minx," he mutters and kisses her adoringly.
Hero squirms beneath him, wriggling her leg from her under his weight and hooking it around his upper thigh, pressing his lower body onto her own. A frisson goes through her as his cock hits her thighs, dribbling precome. She lifts her hips and rocks into him, warm slick gushing out of her. She can feel the tremors through John, the sharp inhales which punctuate each kiss, the groan that she swallows when his leaking cock rubs against her wet vulva.
He pulls back, eyes hooded and his voice like shadow. "Hero…"
Without preamble, he shoves two fingers into his mouth. Hero stares in wonderment as they disappear between his lips, then he draws them out again coated in spit. She has barely processed this last action when he pushes them between her legs, pressing against her folds.
"Ah!" She cries out at the shock of the contact, his fingers somehow cold and hot at once.
His gaze holds hers as he teases her folds, urging more and more of that hot liquid to spill from her, coating her slit and his fingers. A question lights in his eyes and she answers him with a breathless, "John, please", and the corner of his mouth crooks in that smile that she loves.
One finger makes the advance, easing inside her, not forceful but neither shy, exploring the tight heat of her. A second soon joins the first and then there are two fingers working her open, double-teaming upon the bundle of nerves blazing like candle wicks. She trembles against the tide of heat which courses through her, one wave after another, fighting to keep her head-up, falling back into the pillow.
"Can you take a third?"
She almost doesn't hear him over her heart hammering in her ears. "I… uh… ah… don't know… but you…" She raises her hand, skimming it over his chest, down to his throbbing erection. "I'm ready."
His fingers don't slow their pace, but his expression is hesitant. "I don't want to hurt you."
Her heart squeezes and she smiles, brushing aside the strands of hair which have fallen into his face. "You won't."
His eyes close for a second and he exhales. "Let me see you take three fingers."
He drops his head between her thighs, breath ruffling her dark curls. His fingers part her entrance, guiding a third inside. She trembles, gasping at the sensation of all three fingers stimulating the wet heat of her with a skill that robs her breath. Between her legs, John shudders like a beast barely restrained and she wonders why he prolongs this exercise, pleasurable as it is. Even for her first time, she doesn't remember Bertram spending this long on her. Her face burns, listening to the squelch of John's fingers moving inside her. She has never felt this wet before. It unsettles her, unsure of what to make of the urgent sensation, fearing her body's betrayal, wishing John would get on with it.
She pulls at his hair. "I'm ready. I'm ready. Please, John."
He looks at her and she doesn't attempt to hide her desperation. She wants him. She needs him. "John, John."
"Do you have—" He cuts himself off.
She realises what he is asking and giggles, a touch hysterical. "Too late."
His fingers slide out of her and she feels some of the heat gush out with them. She whimpers, both from embarrassment and the sudden emptiness. He pulls back, mouth pursed, and panic chills her — will he reject her now he remembers what she is?
"I'll be gentle," he promises and her heart freezes. "I won't hurt you or the baby."
Hero stares at him, eyes prickling, and swallows. She seizes his shoulders, yanking him into a furious kiss, as forceful as the emotions tossing inside her.
"Hero…" he murmurs, as he breaks for air.
She can't bear the perceptiveness of his gaze and closes her eyes. "Please, John. Don't make me beg."
She hears his exhale, then shrieks as he grabs her legs and pulls her down the bed. She stares at him in shock as he hoists her legs either side of his waist.
His eyes twinkle, a curve to his lips. "Be. Patient."
She pouts and is formulating a retort when his cock brushes her entrance and begins to push inside. She gasps, legs clenching against his sides, her body trembling, as he slides himself inside her, inch-by-inch. Even after all of his fingers' stretching it is still a squeeze, but her slick, wet walls ease his entrance and the slight strain is dulled by those kindling sparks of pleasure.
"Is this alright?" He asks, holding himself back until he is assured of her comfort.
She cannot remember Bertram being as restrained, but she can remember little of Bertram when her whole self throbs with the sensation of John, half inside her.
"Y-Yes," she manages, "Please."
He proceeds with the same care as before, this snail's pace more painful than anything else. Her fingers become claws, digging into the sheets.
"John, John, John…" she whimpers.
"Hero…" the roughness of his voice is a balm, like he too is only hanging by a thread, "...you feel… incredible."
"John…" She wiggles her hips, trying to take more of him. "You are… big."
He chuckles and quickens his pace, his own hips rocking as if he cannot contain himself. At last, he is sheathed inside her and her body tingles at the delightful stretch. She feels so full. His eyes have closed, the expression on his face one of exaltation.
"Fuck, you feel so good. You're perfect."
Hero wiggles her hips, propelling his cock deeper. He releases a sound like she has torn a rib from his chest and his eyes snap open, fixing her with a dangerous glint. Her stomach flips as he grasps her hips and thrusts into her, striking the sensitive nerves again and again. Hero jolts with each thrust, hands flying to his shoulders. Instinct has her trying to suppress her moans.
"Let me hear you."
Her eyes widen, experiencing a rush of wet heat at his commanding tone.
"Hero. I want to hear you."
"J-J-John—" she allows herself to vocalise her pleasure "John—ah—oh, please—!"
His hips roll with smooth confidence, though there is nothing indolent about his movements. His focus is fixed on her like a brand, as if burning her image across his memory, and his pace intensifies. Not so much rough as determined. Even as he is driving his cock into her again and again, pulling out and slamming back inside, thrusting deeper and deeper, it is done with a degree of sweetness, watching her for any sign of discomfort.
"JohnJohnJohn—!"
"Good," he croons, striking a spot inside her.
White-light flashes before her eyes, lightning sizzles through her veins and she cries out. John's fingers tighten on her, holding her in position as he hits the same spot over and over, pistoning his hips, lighting her up from inside. She fights against her fluttering eyelids, drinking in the naked image of him, raven locks in disarray and falling in his eyes, pupils blown wide and fixed on her.
"You're beautiful," she hears him say through the wildfire consuming her, "Hero… so beautiful."
Her heart hammers in her chest, feeling like it will burst. Her body singes to embers under a torrent of bliss, more heat trickling out of her as she clenches around him. His fingers touch the place where their bodies join, fondling her clit, and her insides go supernova.
"JOHN!"
Warmth explodes through her. John keeps pounding into her, against the flood of heat which rushes to escape. She can hear it in the squelch, squelch that she is sopping wet. Her body trembles around him, her fingers knotting in his hair, pulling tight as the fever sweeps through her. In all her times with Bertram, she never experienced such an intense release. She almost wonders if something is wrong, except it feels so right.
"Ah—Hero—" John gasps and then his own climax strikes, spilling hot inside her.
She sobs from the pure pleasure of it, wrapping him in her arms and hauling his shuddering form flat upon her.
"H-He-Hero—" He chokes into her skin, hands rising to clutch her to him, and she turns her face into his cheek, kissing below his ear.
They hold onto each other in silence while their shivers subside, basking in the afterglow and tasting the sweat of each other's skin as they pepper kisses along jaws and shoulders.
Eventually, John pulls his limp self out of her and Hero is struck both with an unwelcome emptiness and sudden humiliation as all that his cock has kept plugged in now streams out, her cum mixed with his seed. The air is thick with the smell of salt and sex and from experience this is usually the part when Hero grabs her clothes. But John holds her in his dark gaze, his face soft.
She shifts under his attention. "What?"
He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth lifting. "I'm… I'm really glad you mixed up our tickets."
She laughs, fingers skimming across his abdomen like they have a mind of their own. "It was all a ploy to get you into my bed."
He leans in, his nose nudging her own, "Good."
She giggles and nuzzles his nose, arms winding back around him. As her body presses against his, she is reminded of the mess sticking to his and her thighs.
"We need a bath."
His arms tighten on her. "It can wait."
"But John," she laughs, "Don't you want to see if the bath can fit us both?"
:-x-:
The bath can fit them both though John has to sit with his back pressed against the rim, his knees bent while Hero reclines on top of him, sketching patterns into the soap suds which coat his skin. It is not exactly comfortable. There is nowhere he would rather be.
They have both taken turns massaging shampoo into the other's hair and washing it off. Now, she smiles at him, skin flush from the steam and shining with water droplets. He can't remember if anyone has ever looked at him before with so much warmth and affection. She is the most gorgeous creature he has ever seen.
He twirls a wet lock of her hair. "I can't believe you're real."
Her eyes crinkle, glistening like the soap bubbles. "What do you mean?"
She must be magic, a siren or enchantress, because the words pour out of him as if in a trance. "I'd take you for a dream but my dreams are never this good."
Her smile widens and she places a kiss on his forehead. Then, with a mischievous twinkle, drops back, grinding down on him. "Don't I feel real?"
His cock twitches in interest, blood rushing south. "Shiii…" He bites off a curse, his hands clamp around her waist. "Don't start something you won't finish."
"Oh, you'll finish." Her hazel eyes are bright and entrancing, her red lips swollen from all their kisses. She drags them over his throat. "I dreamed… I dreamed about you. Last night."
He stares, aware of himself stirring beneath her. "Me?"
She sucks on his pulse. "Yes."
His heart has stopped beating, or perhaps it is racing too fast. "What happened?"
She smiles into his skin. "I'll show you."