aheroliveshere | [for man_without

He's settling into that lull where content turns into relaxed turns into sleep. Her question catches him, but he has enough awareness left to know his answer might be one he should tread carefully with.

"None of us are completely who we show during the day," he says.

"Karen Page in the office is kind, and smart, and passionate about what she gets into. Now I also know she's brave enough to ask her boss out, she likes spicy Thai food and blushes when she's embarrassed," he lists out, voice teasing but also warm and fond.

"She's energetic in bed, drinks beer and not wine, even at home, and she's also forgiving." He gives her a smile then, and presses a kiss into her hair. "Even when the guy she's picked makes an ass of himself on their first date."

The last is said with the tone of an apology, and gratitude to her again for letting him stay.

She leans into that kiss, her eyes drifting closed. "You didn't make an ass of yourself. You were a dick. There's a difference." There's only a slight bit of petulance to her tone, and the words hold no heat.

"Wait." Her eyes open and she lifts her head, just enough to look at him. "How -- can you tell when I'm blushing?"

This is news to her.

"Noted," he replies, not about to argue the point.

He grins at her when she comes back to the blushing, his smile mischievous and amused.

"Your voice," he explains. "It flutters, like you're nervous and laughing at the same time. You also usually duck your head or cover your mouth so that I can't see you and it muffles what you're saying."

Reaching up he cups her cheek with his palm and adds, "And when we're touching I can feel it. In your hands, on your cheeks, the flush warms your skin."

She was going to ask more questions but something about his hand at her cheek gently dissolves the thought. It's a puff of wind on a dandelion head, and she would watch them go, but the warmth of his touch is distracting.

Her eyes fall closed and she leans in to kiss that dangerous mouth of his, tasting him because she wants to. Because he lets her.

Eventually, she finds the breath to ask, "What else can you feel?"

He continues to cradle her cheek as they kiss, holding her close as their mouths meet.

His blood is up again when they break and he smooths his palm back to run fingertips through her hair; considering his answer. He could tell her he feels almost everything. That his fingertips are sensitive enough to read newsprint in a paper, or handwriting on a page. He could tell her he knows her sheets are printed and he can feel the images even if he hasn't bothered to determine what they are.

He could also tell her that he can feel her pulse through her skin without having to seek out a point. Her heartbeat isn't just a sound in his ears, it's a thrum he feels from every point of contact his body has against hers.

He could, if he were able to share that much with her.

"You'd be surprised," he says instead, continuing to smile at her, lowering his voice as he drops his hand from her hair to her nape, then down her shoulder and side.

"The smoothness of your skin, goosebumps when it prickles, and when your breath catches and you shiver, sometimes I feel that, too."

By the time his hand reaches her hip, she's breathing high and tight, vibrating with desire. She can't help but touch in return, hands skimming over his chest again, firmer this time. Up to his throat, down to his waist, over the flat expanse of his stomach, exploring, savoring every inch. Teasing in her own way, but making promises, too.

Her voice trembles as she talks, spilling secrets now. Baring herself to him in other ways.

"I watch you reading sometimes, and I think -- I wish that was me. Usually, it's just my back. When I think about it, I imagine what it would be like to have you -- focus on me like you do your work, sometimes. Just to have you read me from cover to cover. All my secrets. All of me. At your fingertips."

It's hard not to get distracted by her. The feel of her hands running over his body has him pausing more than once. His chest rises and falls beneath the press of her palms and his abs flex when her exploring hands drop lower.

He continues sliding his hand down. Listening to her admission his hand slips from her hip around her waist, his palm settling in the middle of her back. Slowly, deliberately he starts to map her skin out with his fingertips; starting first with her lower back, dipping into the small dimple of her tail bone and gliding upwards along her spine.

When he reaches her neck he leans into her again, kissing her briefly before speaking in her ear. "I don't like a lot of perfumes," he admits. "My nose... I just don't. But when you come in, and I smell that jasmine scent you wear, it drives me crazy."

As he speaks his fingertips keep moving, his other hand joining in. From the column of her spine his hands move out, following the lines of her shoulder blades, then trailing lower, fingers spread, feeling out her ribs and the spaces between them.

"There are times when I really did want to drag you into a broom closet, just to breath you in."

In all her fantasies, she never imagined it could be this good. His hands move to her back and all capacity for rational thought evaporates. Goose bumps rise again, and he chases them up her spine into her hair, leaving her breathless, shivering with anticipation. Her eyes close, her lips part and she writhes gently, trying to get more of whatever the hell he's doing to her.

He's talking again, whispering in her ear, his voice like liquid honey poured directly on her brain. He's talking about dragging her into a closet and she catches his face between her palms again, pulls him into another deep and almost desperate kiss.

Next time, he might have to tie her up first, if he really wants to learn every inch of her without her interfering.

He kisses her while his hands continue to explore. Her movements don't hinder him at all, his hands simply take a new course when she shimmies or flexes enough to alter their path.

His fingers trace out every line of bone and muscle across her back, skimming as far forward as to brush the sides of her ribs and curves of her breasts, then returning again to the center and flowing down the small of her back to her hips and her ass which he gives a proper squeeze.

Little sounds of pleasure start low in the back of her throat, and it's clear, she's trying to be a bit more restrained this time. It almost gets away from her with that squeeze, but she swallows it down somehow. But his touch, it does things to her. It sets up a resonance in her bones, and she vibrates with it.

One hand steals between them, down his side, down through the dark thatch of fur at the of his abdomen, down to wrap around his cock. The first time she's held him in her palm, and greedy as her hands are, they are also reverent. Light and delicate, down lower to cup and weigh his balls, back up to encircle the shaft.

She breaks their kiss with a harsh breath. "I want to taste you." She whispers the words against the side of his throat, her hot mouth trailing down as she shifts lower. Down his collarbone, down his sternum, her breath feathering against his navel. All the while, her hand stroking, calling him back to her.

His hands slide back up her back and come to rest on her shoulders as she moves away from him down his body. Already coming around, her touch is electrifying and he hardens in her grasp.

Staring sightlessly up at the ceiling his mouth falls open and there's tension running through every muscle in anticipation as she moves lower.

She takes her time, just as he did caressing her back. She eases him over onto his back, and then continues to kiss and nuzzle and lick her way over his abdomen, and lower. Still holding him in her palm, she exhales a warm breath along the keel of his cock, then smiles, her kiss moving to brand his hip instead.

She draws the tip of her nose down the crease of his thigh, down to the base, and another little sound of pleasure escapes her. She licks a hot stripe from base to crown, slow as molasses in winter.

His hands fall away from her shoulders and one finds a knot of bed sheet to clutch as she taunts him. His breath catches several times, releasing in a throaty chuckle that's wickedly bemused when her lips land elsewhere again.

His mouth is opening to say something, expecting another tease, but then her tongue is painting a white hot line along his length and the words get garbled in his throat and come out a low groan.

"Jesus-- Karen... "

She barely gives him time to draw another breath, taking him over her lips and suckling in more than half his length with a low groan of hunger. Her free hand steals up his torso, fingers splayed wide. The other works the slickness of her saliva all the way to the root, a gentle counterpoint to her wicked mouth.

Stealing away Matt's capacity for language may have been another fantasy of hers. She pays him back for torturing her earlier with that one fingertip, all the while listening to every groan, every shift of tension, everything he's telling her with his body. Learning him, how to read him, how to please him. He'll thank her later, she's sure.

He gulps that breath and it's a moan now he lets out on a shaky exhale.

His hand fisted in the sheet twists the cloth and his other finds the top of her head, threading trembling fingertips through her hair. She's doing all of the work, but his chest if heaving. If she wanted to rob him of words she's managed it, because as her lips and tongue work him over the only things he's able to get out are soft swears and blasphemies, and her name.

Those quiet litanies are music to her ears, only spurring her on. She brings him to the very edge and pulls back enough to tease with just her lips, just the barest tip of her tongue painting spirals and swirls, tormenting him until she just can't help herself any longer.

She stalks up his body, pausing only long enough to wrap her breasts around his aching length, feeling the heat and hardness against her sternum as she presses open mouthed kisses to his chest. Up and up, until she straddles his hips, catching him in hand and continuing the theme by sliding him along the crux of her thighs. Not taking him in yet, but feeling the whole length of him regardless. Savoring him like this, undone by her touch alone.

She kneels above him, one hand still splayed on his chest, as if she could hold him there, pinned, while she has her way with him.

His lips part in warning then shut in teeth clenched frustration when she brings him close then leaves him to teeter on the edge without giving him the final push to fall over it. It's delicious torture and as much as he wants to topple over the ledge, the way she's keeping him balanced on the knifes edge feels too good to complain about.

His hand moves from her hair when she starts up his body and it's ready to reach out and pull her to him, but she stops to tease him again. His hand hangs open in the air as she kisses his chest and works his cock between her breasts. When she finally moves above his lap his hand seizes her waist, needing some way to ground himself, some way to urge her to give him what he's desperate for now.

Hips arching of their own accord as she rubs her wetness over him, he starts to rise so that he might kiss her, but that palm on his chest keeps him in place.

"Karen... " he grates, control all but gone, voice all but begging her.

"I want you so much."

Her words are fierce for all they are still barely more than a breath. She rises on her knees and gasps as she takes him into her again. Slow this time, deliberate and measured, like she's afraid she's going to miss something if she goes too quickly. A breath shudders out of her as they slot together, deep and deeper still.

Only then does she give into her own hunger for his hands and his lips and his strong body beneath her. Only then does she catch his hand and pull him up to sitting, recapturing his mouth with all the passion he stirs in her. Her hips roll, giving him that longed for friction and her hands delve into his hair. She takes him, kisses him like he is the air she needs to breathe.

His hand loosens enough to give her room to move and he lets out another slow and low groan as he sinks into her. He sits up under her urging and his arms go around her fast and strong, clutching her as they move together.

She's practically devouring him with her mouth and he's just as greedy as he kisses her back. His hands go back to mapping her back again, only this time with a strong grip and steepled fingers, pressing into her flesh, pulling her close and tight.

She arches into him, her thighs flexing as she rides him. Her hips scribe slow circles, and he can feel her heat clench and throb around him. She has to break the kiss to breathe, but only that far and no farther. Sweat sheens on her skin and she bites her lip hard to keep from swearing. To keep from babbling all the things in her head and heart right now.

Nothing between them, nothing and everything, and she knows it's not going to be easy, loving someone like him. It scares the hell out of her, but god, when he moves in her like this, how can she not. She's always followed her gut and her gut tells her, this isn't a mistake. This is the way it's supposed to be.

Her brow rests against his and she breathes his breath, drinks from him in small mouthfuls, takes him into her body over and over. In this moment, she lets herself love him, wholly and completely, without restraint.

He works with her, his hands grating down her sides to her hips, encouraging her motions as he moves into her.

The end is coming much faster than he'd like, but everything she's done and is doing has him balanced on a peak and he can only hang on so long before he falls over it. She's setting the pace but he changes it, his hands tightening to urge her to move over him faster while he thrusts into her harder and deeper.

It doesn't take long to get him there. A slight change in angle, one motion revisited, the feel of her tightening around him, it breaks the thread he was holding by and all control falls away.

"Karen, I-- " his breath snags and he chokes on the words. His heart is racing and his lungs aren't bringing in enough air and suddenly all of it snaps and he pushes himself into her while simultaneously pulling her close and hits his release.

She feels the wave breaking and urges him on, riding him hard and fast and not even realizing how close she is. He tips and falls, dragging her with him over the edge, and she can't fight the instinct to take him as deep as she can, her hips grinding and bucking the whole way over.

It's swift and powerful and she clings to him as it takes her, buries her face against his throat, muffling her cries against his skin. It goes on and on and on, until she can barely hold onto him, until her vision dims and her heart beat skips. Her whole body quakes and shivers long after his peak is through.

The pleasure racking through him becomes ten fold when he feels her hit her own climax and he keeps moving with her until everything is spent out of him.

His cheek slides against her temple and he's gasping when it's finally over. Hands that were gripping tight let her go and his arms wrap back around her, holding her close, a palm smoothing down her back in a slow, calming motion.

Her tremors run through him and it's a miracle he's able to hold himself upright.

She returns to the world in pieces, like waking up from a deep sleep. She focuses on each little part of him, the feel of his five o'clock shadow against her cheek, the warm caress of his hands down her back, the ragged sound of her own breathing.

A tiny laugh escapes her, and slowly, like gravity is a thing she's just figuring out, she urges him back. She drapes herself over his chest, again in no rush for them to be parted.

"You okay?"

He eases back, laying back on the mattress, his lungs still pulling in deep breaths but slowly starting to calm.

His arms settles around her waist, content enough to keep holding her against him, and he breathes his own chuckle.

"Fantastic. You?"

[for man_without_fear]

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