aheroliveshere | [for man_without

She exhales again, nods. A moment later, she lifts her head to kiss him one last time before sleep takes her.

She wants to believe him, and when he's inside her, it's easy. To believe. But the endorphins are wearing off and reality is creeping back, whispering all sorts of doubts in the back of her mind. It doesn't matter. He's here, holding her. She can live with that. She has to.

When the kiss breaks, she turns around so her back is against his side, and she wraps his arm around her.

He returns the kiss, soft and sweet and full of warmth that he hopes is enough to reassure her. He knows it isn't fair, all the things that he can't tell her, but that doesn't change the fact that he can't.

Already the back of his mind is wondering how long she'll accept the half-answers and dodges he has to give. That's for later worrying though, right now he's content, and she seems to be just as much.

He rolls when she moves, turning onto his side and tightening that arm she takes and holds her body close to his, safe and secure.

His nose he buries in her hair and his eyes close and consciousness fades out to the smell of jasmine.

She's dreaming. She must be dreaming. Dawn is just beginning to touch the blinds, and she can feel his breath on her neck. Can feel his chest, warm and solid all along her back, can feel his hips nestled against her backside, all the way down to where her feet are tangled with his. In this vivid dream, even his hand idly cups her bare breast and hasn't she had this dream a hundred times before?

She doesn't open her eyes, holding onto the illusion for as long as she can, and a wash of languid heat rolls through her body like a late summer storm. Her lips part and she sighs, subtly arching into him.

He sleeps better than he has in a long time; a night of beating up bad guys followed by sex is infinitely better than one where he sacks out under exhaustion alone.

She may not open her eyes, but the shift of her body rhythms from asleep to awake triggers him into coming around. For a moment when his eyes open he's lost his bearings; dreams of sight giving way to the reality of blindness can still be disorienting even now. The realization that he isn't in his own bed makes it more so, but her shift against him clears up the question and he lets his eyes slip closed again and smiles.

Last night comes back to him and he hangs onto the good parts.

He doesn't speak, like her he isn't ready yet to break the spell. Instead his arm tightens around her and his hand gives her breast a bit of a squeeze while his chest rises and falls in a slow, deep breath and exhale against her back.

She matches her breath to his, one hand resting on the back of his arm across her chest, the other reaching back to touch his hip. She tips her chin up, exposing her throat to his breath. Goosebumps rise again, all down her arm, across her back and side.

No words necessary. Just the knowledge that there's nothing between them, and he still, always, lights her up like the fourth of July. Just the scent of him alone, but his skin is so warm. And his hands, Jesus his hands.

Another slow breath, this one a touch more ragged than the one before.

It isn't hard to sense her reactions and he issues a chuckle low in his throat. Idly his hand moves from one breast to the other, a lazy exploration of the soft globes.

Leaning in, he uses the same nonchalance to brush back her hair with his nose and deliver a light kiss behind her ear.

The game is to leisurely drive her crazy. Going by her shaky breath and prickled skin he feels like he's winning.

If only she had the same power over him. It scares her, how deep and powerful this current is that drags her along. Her neck arches to his kiss and her body coils in a slow undulation, hips, shoulders, neck, head. Another breath, a shivering sigh.

Her fingertips dig into the meat of his hip, pulling him closer. He's winning, all right, but this doesn't feel like a game to her.

She bites her lip and tries to be patient. A part of her still expects him to pull away, to find an excuse why he can't do this, why he has somewhere else to be.

If there's something going on beyond this room, beyond this bed he isn't paying any attention to it. His focus right now is entirely on her, the beat of her heart in his ears, every shift her body makes, her scent, the way her skin tastes beneath his lips, there is nothing else beyond her right now.

When her grip at his waist gets tighter he responds, bending his knee and sliding it over her leg, giving her more of the closeness she's demanding.

He continues to feather kisses along her skin, moving from her ear down her neck, all while his hand slides slowly from her chest down her sternum, ghosting along her skin over her belly towards her navel and lower.

He finds the sweet spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and she lets slip the quietest little whimper. Her belly flutters under his touch and she shifts to invite him deeper.

She doesn't have his heightened senses, but she's still just as exquisitely aware of every inch of skin, every breath, every touch. It feels greedy, indulgent, but she wants this. She wants his attention, the full force of his focus. His hand plays her like an instrument and she resonates for him. Will sing for him, if he only asks it of her.

"Matt..."

Please don't stop. Don't ever stop.

When he hears her say his name like that it's him who reacts this time, hips arching behind her.

He doesn't stop. His hand keeps moving, the motion slow and lazy but sure, on a downward path past her belly button and on to the meeting between her legs.

His fingertips meander between her folds, touch delicate and light.

He touches her so intimately, she can't contain the soft little moans, the sigh that tells him exactly what he's doing to her. She dances between the press of his hips and the touch of his fingertips, rocks back and forth between the two. His leg above hers keeps hers pinned together, and that only makes this more arousing somehow. He finds her wet and warm, blood rushing into nerve-rich skin, making her pearl swell and throb under the pad of his middle finger.

Her hand at his hip snakes between their bodies, seeking him out. It only takes a moment to adjust his half-hard cock, to slide it down and between her thighs. Not where she wants it, but close enough to make it clear what her intentions are.

It doesn't take much to finish getting him up. Her touch followed by a few slow strokes into her hand and between her thighs has him hard and ready.

His mouth finds that spot that makes her shudder and he adjusts behind her, shifting his leg so that she can open hers. His hips arch and he prods at her, seeking her entrance, ready to be inside of her again.

His mouth find its mark and she gasps, reaching a hand up to weave her fingers in his hair. The frisson travels down her spine and he can feel the shudder in her thighs.

She doesn't need to move far, opening to him, welcoming him closer. Her hips angle back and she rocks against him. It's her turn to tease, just letting him slide along her slit, so close to the promised land while she catches him between her thighs. He can feel how wet she is already, and the air is thick with her scent.

"Slow this time." She turns her head just enough to whisper to him, her voice trembling with anticipation. "Please."

He has an incredible case of bed head, so her hand has plenty to grasp.

His head bows against hers and his breath comes out in a stutter against her skin as he pushes his hips forward again, feeling her wetness along his length.

"Slow," he promises, willing to give her whatever she wants at this point.

She can't hold off for long. As good as he feels, she wants all of him. She arches her back in a deep bow, and lifts her hips to him. As much as she loves facing him, this feels just as good. A whole new way to explore each other. A whole new range of sensations. She feels their bodies align and when the moment is right, she presses back, taking him in again.

"Oh fuck you feel good."

His breath catches and holds at the penetration, adjusting his own hips a little to get more of himself inside of her.

"Me?" he returns with a low chuckle, "You feel better than amazing."

Much, Much better, in fact. It makes it difficult to keep that promise of a slow pace, but he tries, and when he starts to move it isn't thrusting so much as a slow languid push and pull into her.

This position makes it hard to kiss him, but not impossible. She's not the athlete that he is, but she's kept up with her yoga, and god it's good to reap the benefits of that. She just has to twist at the waist, shifting to lift her knee.

It keeps them close, and she draws his hand between her thighs again. She stretches to steal a kiss, breathless and hot, her hand curling around shoulder, clinging to him as best she can. All the while, rocking with him, keeping the rhythm steady and sure.

He pushes up on his elbow and leans in to meet her in the kiss. His hand hasn't strayed far and it slips back between her legs under her guidance.

While he slides into her his fingertips find her clit, rubbing in slow circles that match their leisurely pace against each other.

Kissing him, being wrapped up in him, filled by him, it feels like a tiny slice of heaven. Feels like basking in the warmth of the sun after a cold winter's day. She moans against his mouth, slow waves of ecstasy flowing out from her core to every inch of her body. Her hand slides up to his shoulder and she clings to him, unashamed.

Gradually, the movement of her hips becomes more insistent, more urgent. She fights the instinct to race to the end, taking slow, ragged breaths. The bottom of each strokes draws a high pitched little sound from her, and he can feel her body clenching around him.

He kisses her, exploring her mouth with his tongue and breaking only so that he can breath her in. The pace is slow, almost excruciatingly so, but it still has his heart-rate up and his chest rising and falling faster behind her.

He reads her from the inside and out, finding and revisiting those strokes that cause her to mewl while his hand plays her delicate button in time with their movements together. His reaction to her urgency isn't to go faster, but to draw out each stroke longer, to make each thrust deeper, dragging out every moment of bliss.

Jesus, Mary, Joseph, she didn't think she had any place left to go, didn't think he could feel more amazing than what she already felt, but fuck if he isn't proving her wrong. He reaches deep inside her and draws out a kind of pleasure she never imagined. Her breath hitches, her eyes roll back in her head, and her kisses become uncoordinated. He presses deep, does something with his hand and white hot bliss coils through her.

Her hand slides into his hair, holding fast to him, resting her brow against his, whispering low and fervent.

"Oh my god oh my god ohmygod, Matt."

So close, she's so close. And he holds her there, in the palm of his hand.

He keeps her teetering right on that razor edge. Her words in his ears, her reactions around him, he goads them on with every motion while keeping her hanging in suspense.

His hand and cock are slick with her wetness and his own end is building, but he's more focused on her and her growing desperation.

A slight change in angle, a deeper press accompanied by a pinch to her clit between the pads of his fingertips and he rumbles low in her ear, "Come for me, Karen."

His touch, his breath, his body, his heat, all of it overwhelms her senses, but it's his voice, always his voice that puts her over the edge.

He asks and she soars, keening as her body judders into freefall, her breath caught in her throat. The slow motion detonation unfolds in waves and it goes on for what feels like forever. Instinct drives her to press him as deep as possible, and her body clenches rhythmically, strong pulses around his prick.

All through it, she clings to him, a wordless litany of ecstasy whispered against his lips, letting him ground her as she dissolves into molten heat and light.

Feeling her reach her climax he keeps moving into her, not altering the pace a beat as he continues to work through her peak, trying to draw it out for her.

Everything she's doing, from the sounds to her body's reactions, and the knowledge he brought her such bliss bring him along behind her and when release hits it's almost a surprise.

A clutch of her hand on his shoulder, something she says, the press back of her hips, it sends him over the edge and he grips her hip and pulls her back against him so that he can bury himself inside of her as he takes his own pleasure.

His pleasure joins with her own, washing over her like a torrent, taking with it any strength she might have had left. It leaves her breathless and shaking, quivering as the aftershocks sweep through her. Her body rocks against his last few, deep thrusts and she chases after the fleeting strands of bliss coursing through her.

Her hand slips up into his hair, keeping him close, and she whispers his name, over and over again, like a mantra. Feeling him holding her so tight, it grounds her, and she holds him just as fiercely. Even though he's left her trembling, heart pounding, out of breath.

[for man_without_fear]

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