latino_menace | 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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'What did I do to deserve a woman like you?'

The grin on his face really couldn't be any wider, eyes showing how much he wants this. His hands don't stop running down her body, over her ribs, up to her breasts, fighting off the pulses of desire as she runs her hand up and doen his length.

'Go as slow as you like. Don't hurt yourself.'

"I don't know," she breathes, smiling down at him. Her voice is sultry, dark honey and sex. "Must have been something bad."

Slow is all she wants right now. Nice and easy. This is all new to her, and she has all the time in the world to find her way. She eases herself down, pressing the head against that tight ring of muscle, taking long slow breaths. Sweet, languid torture, watching his face, not wanting to miss a thing.

'I was thinking,' he breaks off, eyes closing in pleasure as he feels that tightness start to grip his cock, sending bolts of electricity shooting up his length, 'I must've been good.'

OhChrist it feels good. Torturous, yes, but perfect. So fucking perfect.

She lets her weight do the work, teeth fixed in her lower lip as he slips deeper. The angle is different, and the instinct to move is almost overwhelming. She drags his hand from her hip back to her slit.

She whispers again, her voice tight and hungry. "Don't stop."

He nods, unable to open his eyes, working his fingers into her blind and going straight for her g-spot, pressing over it as he starts to rub.

It feels so good it's hard to breathe, excruciating pleasure overwhelming his senses, she's moving so slow and he feels like he might burst if he doesn't get some relief from the pressure soon. But he says nothing, lets her take her time, using the soft wetness of her around his fingers anchor him to the ground, desperate not to lose himself yet.

A strained cry leaves her lips as he fills her cunt, finding that sweet spot with an uncanny accuracy. Her body knows what it wants, and right now, she wants him even deeper. She lets out a long sigh and presses down, taking him all the way to the hilt, her hands fluttering like birds on his shoulders.

She takes a few breaths to get used to the feel of him, slick and hot and hard inside her, and then she rises up again. All the way to the tip, and then back down in one smooth motion, a soft moan on her lips, telling him just how far gone she is. She sets a nice even pace, not too slow, not too quick. Riding him, just like he asked.

'Fucking hell, Fi.'

His voice is a quiet gasp, almost pained in its restraint as he builds walls against the tightness that squeezes him, tries to focus on getting her off with his fingers to distract from the pleasure. His thumb presses unevenly at her clit, circles and jabs; he can't keep a steady rhythm going but he tries.

Her hand clamps around his between her thighs, stilling that erratic touch, holding his hand right where she wants it. Her eyelids droop, the muscles in her face gone slack as she concentrates.

"Let me do this, caro. Just hold still. Right -- there."

She curls around him again, arms around his neck. Her head falls forward, lips brushing his forehead, breathing in short panting gasps. She just lets herself go, lets it all wash over her.

"A cuishle. A cuishle."

He chokes his breath, nods, does as directed. Just holds steady and lets her fuck his hand in her own time, getting off on watching her almost as much as from feeling what she's doing to him.

Her amrs around him feel amazing, it brings her closer and gives him the feeling of her surrounding him entirely, closing him in and not letting him escape from these sensations.

Her breath hitches and he feels the strength of her body clamp down on him, fingers and cock both. Pleasure coils through her body, sweat shining on her skin, the slickness of their sex coating her thighs. Another tremor takes her, and her pace stutters, fire licking down her spine, raising a cry on her lips.

She aches, trembling as her peak unfolds, holding tight to him as she rides him with everything she has, holding nothing back.

He's crying out every time she falls down on him, eyes tight shut, breathing in the smell of her body and the sex, tastes the sweat on her skin. His legs are shaking with the effort of holding back while she rides out her orgasm but suddenly he just can't stop himself, she hits him just right and he's grabbing her hips, pulling her don on him hard and holding her there while he shoots deep in her.

He's rock hard all over, straining out a yell from the intensity, jerking against her as the strength of it takes him over.

All she can do is cling to him, hips and thigh muscles quivering with the aftershocks, whimpering against his hair. The pleasure takes an eternity to bleed away, leaving her boneless, sated, leaning on him. Pressed against him, lost in him, unable to tell where she stops and he begins.

He's more than happy to just sit like this, still buried in her, letting the sensation diminish in its own time, no hurrying it along. They have all the time in the world today, always, just to enjoy each other and revel in this that they've been denied for so long.

When he looks up at her and leans in for a kiss, his eyes are unguarded and soft, something that only really happens here, like this. He's not aware of it though, just presses his lips to hers softly and slowly.

Deeper and deeper she sinks, first into that soft gaze and then into equally soft kisses. She breathes deep, gives herself over to that wash of emotion, closing her eyes to hide the sheen it brings.

It wasn't ever supposed to be like this between them, but she wouldn't change it for the world on a gilded platter. She never thought she would be strong enough to love someone with the same intensity that she loved Michael. But he asks, and she reaches, gives herself fully, without fear or reservation. He makes her feel alive.

Weak hands comb through his hair, trail down his jaw, stroking his skin. Gently, she pulls away, eases them down to the bed, nose to nose, still breathing his breath.

He smiles lightly, holds her to his chest as they sink back, relaxing completely.

'Didn't hurt you?'

He doesn't want to hurt her.

"No."

She aches, yes, but then pain has always meant something different to Fiona. Her hand brushes over his mouth again, and she leans in for another soft kiss, slow and sweet.

He promised.

He promised.

OOM: Finally.

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