latino_menace | OOM: Finally.

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OOM: Finally.

It has been a long month. A long, boring month of healing and don't touch and being forced to exercise some self-restraint. He's spiked his drinks, taken drugs and painkillers and lately, those pills that Fi got from bar. They seemed to do the trick but left a problem - if his body literally can't respond to desire, how will he know when it's fixed?

He's so bored of waiting. And everything looks practically normal. So after that conversation on the beach and the lazy, intimate day that followed he decided to risk it. If he wakes up hurting, fine, he'll give it a bit longer.

He wakes up...hurting. But not much, not much at all. It's the middle of the night, pitch black because there's no natural light on an island in the middle of the sea, no sound but the waves hitting the beach below them. He's drowsy and hasn't opened his eyes but then, he doesn't have to to know what roused him from sleep.

It aches. But he doesn't know if that's because of the injury or because he's so hard he could hammer nails with his cock. He does know that it doesn't hurt enough to stop him and without even thinking about it, he's turning, sliding a leg between Fiona's and kissing her neck, her jaw, collarbone, chest; small, wet, open-mouthed kisses that are as gentle as they are insistent.

'Fi.'

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She can't move like this, can't do anything but hold on tight and take whatever he gives her, trying to rock against him. His fingers slip into her and she grips him there as well, hot and slick and tight, making him push into her. Her hands stroke through his hair and she keens when he finds that spot on her clit, that spot that makes her go rigid, shivering, coiled tight around him.

As soon as she goes rigid, he moans and hits it again, that spot, over and over, working his hand inside her, not letting up, wanting to feel her break.

He's so hard it hurts, desperate to be inside her but desperate to make her come too, wanting to reduce her to paste under his touch.

Her hand slips, sending the bowl and the whisk skittering across the counter, and he's still coming on strong. She keens, scrambling to steady herself, finally just holding on to him. He won't let her fall. (Too late, oh far too late. Fallen so hard for you, caro.)

He's fucking her hard and fast with that hand now, his tongue driving her fucking insane, stealing her breath and her will, stealing everything and replacing it with white hot bliss. She hears a voice crying out, realising from a distance that it's hers, twisted and tight, raw in her throat. Her hand slams back to the counter and she rises up against him, long hard waves shuddering through her as she comes apart beneath him.

He doesn't stop, not until it seems like she can't take any more. Then he takes his mouth off her, slides his hand free and rests his forehead against her stomach, breathing hard and fast, fighting for control. A glance downwards shows him straining, leaking, balls tight as they can be and he can't wait any more.

'You alright?'

He's standing, pressing his lips to hers hard, turning her in his arms.

'...gotta have you.'

She nods, whimpers against his mouth, her hands brushing his hair back, touching his face. She loves the way he's putting her where he wants her, loves that hungry growl in his voice. He touches her like this and she belongs to him.

Her legs are still wobbly, but she holds onto the counter, another tremor taking her breath away. He pins her with his body, and she leans forward, rocking back against him.

"Take."

He groans as she rubs against his cock, leans down and slides a hand under her knee, lifting her leg until his hand is at the counter top. Then he just grips the edge, letting her leg rest over his arm, keeping her spread wide and open for him.

'Been dreaming about this for a month,' he mutters, voice strained as he guides himself into her. Just an inch. Just a glorious, tight, teasing inch, feeling her heat suck at him like a velevt vice.

Her eyes close and her head tips forward, a low moan on her lips at the sound of his voice. He's so thick and hard, and just that inch stretches her. She's tender from the morning, and the pleasurepain is exquisite. Again, he's limited her mobility, but she can still arch, pressing back against him, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

She's probably learned by now that he does love trapping her down. He loves her going wild on him too but when it's like this, when it's been so long, when he needs it this much...God, he just wants her to take him. Just wants her to make his whole body feel good, just wants to feel her shaking for him and calling his name.

Her head's on his shoulder and he turns to kiss her, pressing himself deep, slow but steady, filling her up and moaning into her mouth.

She sinks into that kiss, sinks into him all over again, losing herself in the strength and the heat of his touch, not caring how vocal she's being. Her spine arches more, and she can't keep herself from grinding on him, just a little give and take, working him deeper, riding his cock in slow, undulating circles. The liquid heat of her last orgasm is still circulating, and this slow press only drives her higher. She grabs his hand and drags it to her breast, knowing what he likes and wanting to give it to him.

He's almost helpless, drowning in want, letting her work herself on him because it keeps him from going all out and finishing this in seconds, lets him enjoy the feel of her hard nipple under his fingers, her soft flesh in his hand, the unbearable sweetness of her pussy.

'Going to come for me again? Going to ride it, Fi? Going to get yourself off on me?'

His voice is quiet, dark, intense. But she doesn't need him to speak to know that, doesn't need him to tell her much he wants her. It's written in every line of his body.

His breath feathers against her skin, his voice pouring over her like the sweetest, darkest honey, coiling through her like fire. She always thinks she can't go again, until he asks, and she has no choice. His hands hold her where he wants her and all she can do is writhe on his cock. He surrounds her, fills her, overwhelms her.

One more, she can give him one more.

"Please. Let me. Just one more. Please, Ramon."

His lips curl upwards, a slow smile, predatory.

'In a minute. Not yet.'

His fingers trail down the centre of her body and he's pressing his lips to her gently, hardly any pressure at all, just enjoying her slow rolling ass and the way she begs him.

His fingertips brush her clit once more, feather-light, barely there.

'Not until I say so.'

Oh sweet merciful fuck, that gentle touch and his denial light her up like a bonfire. Her cunt spasms around him, and that gentle kiss at her shoulder makes her moan. She continues to plead, a continuous litany of breathless syllables, and when he brushes her clit, her whole body shudders. He can feel the effect he's having on her, can hear it in her voice, feel it in her skin.

He's torn between wanting her to come so that he can feel it and so that he can too, and loving seeing her like this. The indecision drags it out longer and he's smirking, kissing her neck in that same soft way, licking gently at the spot behind her ear.

'Not yet. Not yet.'

He feels like his balls are going to explode, he's tight all over, hyper-aware of her wetness on his skin, the slide of her on his shaft. But he can't stop it, can't finish it. Not yet. So he keeps playing with her clit, a squeeze here, a brush there, circling, circling, a flick and he's moving now too, just barely, working his cock in and out, tiny increments at a time.

'...not yet.'

Her awareness collapses down to this impossibly sweet ache, the gentleness of his kiss balanced with that sweet perfect touch. It's absolute torture, and she loves it. She doesn't have to do anything but move and feel and listen to him.

He starts moving and she telegraphs each penetration back to him with a soft cry, twisting her up until she can barely breathe, let alone think. Higher and higher, past her breaking point and beyond. She hangs on his every touch, waiting, trembling.

A little faster and he groans into her neck, his breath coming harder against her skin. He wants to keep her here for as long as he can but his body's giving in, it wants what it wants and he's powerless to stop it.

His lips find hers as his teasing fingers start working in earnest, rubbing a steady rhythm; his hips start pumping, long deep strokes, letting her ride the full length of him. His whole body says now, he doesn't think he has to voice it.

He's tasting her sweat, driving her out of her mind with each brush of his fingers.

"I can't..." And then he's kissing her and she's breaking.

Heat and pressure coalesces into a single point of light behind her pelvic bone, and he's still kissing her. Each thrust is perfection, each kiss a taste of heaven.

It's only a matter of moments before she feels the detonation unwind in a slow, pulsing wave, tearing a long, loud, raw sound from her throat.

By the time she's crying out, his face is buried against her neck and he's thrusting properly, hard, deep, grunting in desperate need, letting her set him on fire. She's tight and open for him, coming on him, squealing like that...his hand scrabbles for her hip suddenly, keeping her still as he looses it, digging into her as he goes rigid and shoves hard upwards, too hard maybe but he can't control himself, throwing his head back and letting out a roar as he boils over and fills her, buried in her as deep as he can get.

Her thighs are shuddering, she's coming so hard, pleasure blasting through her core, radiating out in waves in time with his thrusts. The pain of his fingertips digging into her hips is nothing, reminding her that she's alive, leaving his mark in her skin.

He thrusts deep and hard, almost lifting her off the ground, suspended on his cock, her back against his chest, feeling his roar vibrating in her chest. It's glorious, magnificent and she doesn't ever want it to end.

It's too intense to last, though he tries to hang on to it until the last second. But then the tsunami rolls away and he's left spent, suddenly out of energy, blood pounding in his ears. There's one last kiss pressed to her shoulder and he releases her leg carefully, easing it back down to the ground.

And then he wraps his arms around her middle, holding her against him, breathing against her hair with his eyes closed, trying to come back down.

His embrace is the sweetest moment of all. His breath in her hair is to her heart, what that physical release is to her body. Breathtaking. Devastating.

Her hands curl around his, and she leans against him, feeling the storm in her heart grow still. Right here, right now, he belongs to her. And nothing, no one can take that away from her.

It's a long span of heartbeats before she lets him go, turning in his arms. The pancakes are forgotten, completely, as is the sticky sweet remnants of chocolate adhering to her skin.

"Bed," she says, quiet, intent. Nothing is going to keep her from drinking her fill of him today.

Edited 2010-05-21 22:20 (UTC)

He grins, leans down and kisses her. Soft but with intent; they're not done yet. Not by a long shot.

'Good idea.'

He takes her hand and leads the way, smiling to himself.

She lets him take the lead, but the moment they're in the bedroom again, she takes control. She pushes all the sheets off the bed, and the pillows too.

She steals another long slow searing kiss before she pulls away. "Lay back," she murmurs.

He eyes her for a brief moment, wondering what she has against sheets and pillows and deciding he wants to find out. So he lays back.

It's not like they're in any danger of getting cold anyway.

She doesn't want him getting tangled up in anything but her right now.

She drops to all fours on the bed, nuzzling along his skin, across his lower stomach, up his midline, trailing soft kisses. Her voice is a sultry murmur, each sentence punctuated by a kiss or a caress.

"I've missed. All this. And I'm going. To take my time. Reacquainting myself."

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