Author's Note: Hello, readers, and welcome to my very first M-rated fic! Here there be Rosawatts spiciness—let's hope my first foray into smut won't be too terrible, haha!
This fic takes place a little over three months after "Post-Hospital Crankiness"; Neil and Eva have been together for about a year and a half, give or take a few weeks.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own To the Moon, because if I did, a Certain Game That Shall Remain Nameless would have been quite different. If you know, you know.
A Night to Ourselves
It's inevitable, really, that they'd end up at this moment. After all, it's been a while since the last time they had sex. In between his heart surgery, her insistence afterward that he not overexert himself, and being busy with fulfilling patients' wishes, they haven't done much more than kiss in the past four and a half months. On top of all that, the tension's been building between them practically since the moment they woke up this morning. As they got ready to leave for the airport, they took any excuse to sneak in touches or caresses on each other's sweet spots. When she went into the airport's bookstore, she just so happened to buy a steamy romance novel to read on the plane (and fantasizing about herself as the lonely princess and him as the devoted, very attentive knight? Absolutely a coincidence). For the last several hours, about half of everything he's said to her has been innuendo regardless of their coworkers' presence, causing heat to rush to her face (and to other places), whether out of knee-jerk mortification or arousal or some combination of both.
And now? Now here Eva is, standing in front of Neil in the hallway of the Golden Lobster Hotel, the door of his room just a hair's breadth away. She asks if he'd like to go exploring with her, and he gives her that smirk—slow and sly and dirty—before pulling her closer to him and sealing her lips with his.
The kiss is fervent and almost bruising in its force, and Eva can't help the moan that escapes her, her parted lips giving Neil the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. How long they stay locked together like this—tongues alight with lust—she doesn't know. Whether it's after only a few seconds or a small eternity, he breaks off the kiss and draws back slightly.
"I have a better idea," he says, smirking at her again.
Why did you stop? is what she is about to ask, but the passion-fueled haze in her brain simmers down a little as she registers what he's just said. "Neil, we can't do that here—what if the others hear us?" she says instead, the words automatic and spoken on reflex, because it's what she's supposed to say, because she's the responsible one in this relationship. And as such, she's the one who has to say rational things like they can't possibly have sex while Robert and Roxanne are in their rooms nearby. Even though she wants to do it, wants to stoke the fire he's lit in her until it burns out of control and all she cares about is them reaching climax together.
Listening to her has never been one of Neil Watts' strongest suits, and for better (for her libido) or worse (for her good sense), it's no different now. "Well, they're just gonna have to deal with it," he replies, giving an unconcerned half-shrug before moving forward, lifting her up by her hips, and pulling her into another heated kiss.
Immediately, unthinkingly, Eva wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, kissing him back fiercely, pouring all of herself into it, hardly aware of her long skirt riding up her thighs. He reverses their positions, pressing her into his room's door, pressing his body harder into hers, groaning into her mouth. She can feel how hard he is already and oh, God, if this keeps up—
"Your room," she gasps out as soon as Neil ends the kiss, using the last bit of sense she has to remind him they can't do this out in the hall. She hears him snatching his keycard from his shorts pocket and slamming it into the door's magnetic reader. It takes him a few tries before he manages to swipe the card into the reader, causing the door to open.
They get into his room at once. With how aroused Neil is, as soon as he has her pressed against the wall, Eva expects him to get his shorts and boxers out of the way and bury himself inside her this very second. Instead, with one hand on her shoulder, he presses his lips to her neck, nipping at the skin there, and slips his free hand underneath her skirt, now bunched up at her hips. She's in the middle of a pleasurable sigh at his touch when she feels more than hears him inhale sharply.
"You little minx," he breathes against her throat. "You haven't worn panties all day, have you?"
She chuckles, a smirk creeping onto her face. "And if I said I haven't?"
Her smirk vanishes as she lets out a sudden moan—Neil's fingers have now found her most sensitive flesh, tracing patterns and rubbing circles and causing liquid heat to flood between her legs.
His lips leave her neck and go to her ear, his breath hot, his voice low and raspy. "I should've fucked you senseless earlier."
She wants to say he can more than make up for it now, but all that comes out of her mouth is another moan, louder this time. His touch gets faster, harder, and the heat builds. And builds, and builds, until Eva is bracing the wall with one hand and clutching at Neil's button-down shirt with the other, moaning out his name. When she comes, it's like an implosion, her body consumed by the heat and collapsing inward.
She's still burning as they peel off their clothes and toss them aside as quickly as humanly possible. Once they're naked, she grabs those opaque glasses of his and throws them in the general direction of where their clothes have dropped, then pulls him into a rough, breathless kiss before he can say a word of complaint.
With the feel of their mouths crushed together, their hands frantically grasping everywhere they can reach, and their skin flushing against one another, it's a wonder they ever make it to the bed. But somehow, make it to the bed they do. Eva pulls back the heavy covers, and Neil lays her down on the mattress, makes himself at home between her thighs.
His eyes—usually so brilliantly, beautifully green—are dark with need, and she has barely a second to drink in the sight before he moves.
From there, they fall back into a familiar rhythm: push and pull, ebb and flow, in and out. In this moment, there is only her and him and this act and this heat, reigniting and getting hotter, so much hotter than before. She writhes beneath him, holds him tightly, arches her back. Over her moans, she dimly hears him—inarticulate groans, a few curses, her name—and she knows he's close, knows she's close, just one or two more thrusts and—
They peak, exploding in white-hot pleasure, and as she rides out the waves of her orgasm, there is only one thought in her head:
We are never going four and a half months without sex again.
Afterward, they're both panting as Neil collapses next to Eva on the bed, the sweat cooling on their bodies. He reaches out for a cuddle, and she rolls into his side, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a brief, tender kiss to his lips.
He returns her embrace, rubbing her back with one hand and stroking her hair with the other.
"Y'know," Neil says at length, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them, "if you still want to explore, we can start by checking out the bathtub."
Eva snorts. "Is that your not-so-subtle way of asking if I'm up for round two?"
"Hey, you said it, doll, not me."
She hums, slowly running her fingers down his back. "Well, either way, I might be willing to go at it again. On one condition."
"Which is?" Neil prompts.
Eva smiles. "I get to stroke you."
He laughs. "I'd be insane not to take that deal."
And with that, Eva and Neil disentangle from each other and get out of bed, lacing their fingers together as they walk to the bathroom as if going out for an afternoon stroll.
They end up going an additional two rounds that night.