latino_menace | OOM: Out

Entry tags:

fiona,
oom

OOM: Out

X was less than gracious when she released him and that's still annoying him as he heads up the stairs. But by the time he's reached Fi's room, he's let it go (or at least put it away for a while). There are more important things to think of, like making up for three weeks of incarceration or incapacity. And washing that damn place off him.

He bangs on the door hard. She wasn't downstairs (he checked) so she must be up here.

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He hisses as she rubs against him and pushes her forward, away from him just a touch.

'Careful.'

There's a short laugh and he's squeezing his balls, pulling them away from his body a little to calm himself down.

'A week in hospital and two weeks locked up. I'm a bit trigger happy.'

Coming right away would just be embarrassing. If he was the type to really feel embarrassment.

'Got to go slow.'

She nods, turning her head to watch his face, her eyes wide.

"Anything. Tell me what you want."

If he just wanted to go to bed with a single kiss, she'd be okay with that. She's just happy he's back and wants to make it good for him.

'Just stay there.'

One hand slides around her and down between her legs, seeking out her clit. He can't concentrate properly on what he's doing because depravation is making him burn and he just needs release - but he tries, stroking her in time with the rhythm he's setting on his own rigid cock.

'It'll be better afterwards. Just let me...'

He trails off, hissing quietly again, knowing she'll let him do what he needs to.

"Yes," she croons, one hand slipping down to cover his between her legs, holding him close and guiding him. She arches in his arms, her other hand moving out to grasp the edge of the tub. Her head lays back on his shoulder, and though his hand between her thighs feels fantastic, it's his face she wants to see.

He's magnificent, and she can never get enough of watching him come undone.

Edited 2009-11-11 00:05 (UTC)

The feel of that hard nub under his fingers always twists him higher and it's no time at all before he's searching out that deep heat, sinking his fingers into her while his thumb keeps up the pressure on her clit. It's easier to keep the same motion going with both hands (up down, in out) and the pace quickens immediately; she'll be able to feel his leg muscles tense and release in time with the way he's pushing into his own fist.

Her grip on his hand tightens and her hips take over the motion, holding him still while she rocks against his hand. She can't get much range of motion, but she doesn't need it. He's holding her so tight, and she can feel the climax rising in his body, just as surely as if he were buried in her to the hilt.

Her head falls back and she goes taut as a bow in his arms, her hips bucking hard against his hand.

He'd shout if his throat would let him; instead it just comes out as long, loud, strained groan - she's coming and so is he, vibrating his hand around the head of his cock as he shoots up her back, clouding the water between them with a climax too intense to really enjoy. It's just a release of tension and he has to let go after a few seconds, his face screwed up against the pressure of it.

'...fuck.'

She goes limp in his arms, wrapping her arm around his, holding herself clear of his aching cock. She's not quite sure what just happened with him, but it didn't look like that much fun.

She lets him gentle a bit before opening her mouth, her tone soft and a bit on the worried side.

"You okay?"

'Yeah, just...too strong.'

He strokes himself down until the tension unlocks, letting him calm. Then he relaxes back in the tub, wiping her back clean then pulling her against him properly.

'It's never that good if it's been a while. Too sensitive to enjoy.'

He feels better now though. Loose again.

Her hand finds his cheek and she turns his face to hers, kissing him gently as she wipes the water off his brow.

"You're here now," she murmurs, resting against him, finally able to breathe again. "You're here with me."

'Yeah.'

He smiles and kisses her back, enjoying the easy quiet. He'll move and clean up properly in a minute but for now, it's fine to just relax here.

She'll stay here, pressed against his side, nothing between them but heat and water, for as long as he'll let her. He was gone far too long this time.

She hears his voice in her head, gravelled and low, calling her 'caro'.

She doesn't stop kissing him, gentle as a breath of air, trying to pick up the strands of their connection and draw them close again.

'Water's getting cold,' he says, after a while.

He thinks he probably shouldn't feel this tired when he's done nothing but sit on his ass for the last three weeks but it always seems to be the case. Maybe it's just mentally getting up to speed again.

'Did you say there was food?'

She nods, sitting back a little, reaching for a towel.

"I did. Comfort food. It's in the oven, keeping warm."

She rises, lets the water run off her for a moment before wrapping the towel around her and stepping out, snagging a towel for him.

'I'll just be a minute then.'

He does need to actually get clean and the water is now definitely not. But it only takes five minutes to shower off and a couple more to towel dry. He's soon with her in the kitchen, dressed only in a pair of comfortable jeans.

'Smells good. What is it?'

The empty carryout boxes are strewn on the counters. She's made up two plates, and opened a bottle of beer for the two of them.

"Peasant food," she says. (He might notice she's still speaking in her real accent.) "Rice and beans, carnitas, fresh made tortillas. As Da used to say: 'hot, brown and lots of it.'"

"Guaranteed to soothe the soul."

For as skinny as she is, Fiona knows how to eat.

He gives her an amused - or maybe bemused - look.

'Does my soul need soothing?'

Does hers?

"Maybe. We could all use a bit of soul soothing, once in awhile." And feeding someone good food is one way of showing them you care.

She puts a fork in his hand.

He takes it with a smile and picks up a plate, leaning back against the counter.

'I don't think I've ever thought about it.'

This isn't true but its been a while and things only get bad enough occasionally for him to need it.

She leans next to him, shoulder to shoulder, tucking in with a contented smirk on her face.

She doesn't speak until she stops to take a sip of beer.

"I should cook for you more often. Fatten you up a bit." There's a playful lilt in her voice.

He looks down at his stomach, which hasn't been completely flat for about ten years, then looks at her.

'Where'd you get that idea from?'

She laughs, leaning against his shoulder.

"It's an expression, love. Mum always used to say you could tell if a woman loved her man, because he was always a little too well fed. But that won't work with us, you see."

She takes another bite, grinning at him.

He shakes his head and takes another bite.

'Don't know what her excuse for me would be then.'

Possibly that he's spent the last ten years loving himself too much.

"She wouldn't care for you at all," Fiona drawls, taking a long sip of beer.

"Good thing I stopped listening to her when I was a teenager."

'Was she religious?'

Religious parents have never approved of him.

...well, no parents ever have actually but it'll surprise no one to learn that its never bothered him.

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