amberfocus | A Sky Without Zeppelins: Chapter Fourteen

                                                       Original banner art by theotherwillow

A/N:  This chapter is at the very least a hard R. No "actual" sex occurs. Let's just see how close we can get, shall we?

                                                                        Chapter Fourteen

His kiss is slow and steady, his tongue stealing in and robbing her of all desire to do anything but get lost in this moment. He is careful at first to keep his body off of hers, laying himself down alongside her and propping up on one arm to kiss her while his other hand threads pale silken strands through the fingers. She doesn’t like the distance between their bodies, wants to feel him pressed against her, is afraid to make the move herself and prays he simply will.

The phone rings and he ignores it at first, but a moment later his cell starts up and he reluctantly pulls away from Rose. “Sorry, that’s the ring for work,” he tells her. He excuses himself from her and steps into the other room to take the call.

Rose sighs and sits up and decides she might as well get ready for bed. She takes her pajamas from one of the drawers he gave her to use during her stay and a few other items and goes into the bathroom. She scrubs the makeup from her face and brushes her teeth and then changes into the little camisole top and shorts.

When she returns to the bedroom he is sitting on the bed. “Do you have to leave?” she asks him.

“Leave? Oh, because of work? No. It wasn’t important. I’m sorry for the interruption.” He holds out his hand and she comes towards him, stops between his knees and looks down at him. “Now where were we?” he asks her.

“I think,” she says softly, “that you were kissing me.”

He runs his hand up her arm. “You only think I was kissing you?” he says with a half smile.

“You were definitely kissing me,” she replies as her eyes fall to his soft lips. She wants to push him back by his shoulders and climb on top of him, straddle his hips and sway softly against him, but she can’t. Or she won’t. Or she’s too scared to. Too scared of what he might think. Too scared of where it might lead. A place she wants to go with him, but not just yet. She closes her eyes and takes in a steadying breath.

“Is something wrong?” he asks her. His accent falls heavily on the word wrong and the rolled R washes over her body like the soft lilt of a summer breeze. She shivers as his hand continues to stroke her arm.

“I’m scared,” she admits.

“Rose, look at me,” he says. She opens her eyes and the ones looking up at her are filled with some indefinable emotion. “I’ll not push you into making love,” he tells her earnestly. “I want it, yes. I want you. But in your own time. I’ve told you that before. I mean it. If it’s not the right time for you, then it’s not the right time for me. This is too important, we’re too important.”

“Yeah?” she asks shyly.

“Yeah. I…Rose, I…I want us to work. I don’t just want one night with you. I don’t want casual sex. That’s not the kind of man I am. I want more. There’s something between us that is…well, it’s special. It’s right. It feels like we have a shot at so much more than just…I’m no good at this. Explaining this. But when I’m with you, I want…everything,” he tells her. “I think we could have it.”

“I know,” she says. “I think we could, too. And messing this up…that’s what scares me the most.” She sighs and steps away from him.

“Rose?”

“Why don’t you go get changed for bed?” she asks him.

“It’s still early. Or are you tired?” he asks her.

She meets his eyes again. “No,” she says, “I’m not. But you’ll be more comfortable. You’re still in your business clothes. And I…I want…” She bites her lip and trails off. She has no way of coming right out and saying that she wants him without a shirt on, wants to touch him, feel his skin. She’s too nervous, feels it’s too forward, and yet she wants it. She sighs in frustration.

He rises from the bed and goes to retrieve a clean pair of pajamas from the bureau. He takes out both the top and the bottoms and then looks at her a moment, seeing the slight flash of disappointment, and puts the top back in the drawer. Her stomach turns over in anticipation of seeing all that beautiful skin on display again. He retreats to the bathroom to change and she lies down on the same side of the bed she slept on the night before. She isn’t quite so presumptuous as to call it, even in her own head, her side of the bed. Yet.

When he emerges her breath hitches in her chest at how beautiful he is to her seeking eyes. She drinks him in trying to memorize every line of his chest. Her fingers ache to touch his body and run themselves through his hair. He has done that himself, ruffled his hair because it is standing up on end and is ridiculously messy from a moment ago. He does that when he’s nervous. She smiles at him as he makes his way around the bed and settles onto the other side of it.

His hand picks up the remote control. “So, romance?” he asks.

She takes the device out of his hand and sets it down again. “Yes,” she says. “Romance.” Slowly she turns on her side and reaches out for him, her hand connecting with wiry muscles as she touches his bicep and runs her hand down the length of his arm. His eyes darken and he makes a small sound in the back of his throat and reaches out to cradle her jaw with his hand.

She turns her head into his hand, laying a lingering kiss on his palm. His fingers glide down to her neck and sweep lightly across her throat and over her clavicle to her shoulder, then drift down her arm all the way to her wrist where he encircles the little bones for a moment, his thumb circling the bone there that sticks up and out, before stroking down her hand and back up again.

Rose reaches out for him then, weaving the fingers of her hand through the chest hair between his pectoral muscles. He sucks in his breath at her first touch against his skin. She slides her hand across his sternum and up to his neck then back down again, across the left pectoral, her palm lightly grazing the nipple, then skimming over his ribcage and over to his side. Her hand stops short at the waistband of his pajamas before making its way back up his body again.

He turns into her then, no longer willing to be so passive, and pulls her closer. One arm squirms beneath her and his hand comes to rest on her back. The other hand finds her hair, fingers lacing into the silk as they had earlier. Her eyes watch his face until his lips meet hers and then they flutter closed.

The first kiss is chaste. He simply presses his lips into hers, softly and without urgency, his hand dancing in wide circles between her shoulder blades. She moves a hand up to his face, threads the fingers into his hair, moves her other hand onto his back, resting over his ribcage and sweeping lightly back and forth, an inch or two at a time.

Rose grows a bit impatient with the kiss and pushes a bit more firmly against his mouth. As if he has been waiting for this sign, and perhaps he has been, his tongue flicks out and traces the length of her top lip with its tip before he sucks it into his mouth. Rose’s body moves involuntarily towards him. He releases her lip and runs his tongue along her bottom one in turn, then pushes against the seal of her mouth.

Rose parts her lips and meets his tongue with her own gentle, dancing strokes. She can feel her heart picking up its beat, the syncopation becoming wilder as the kiss deepens, as passion flares to the surface and pulses between them. His knee pushes against her and inveigles itself between her thighs as he leans into her and there is no longer any space between her body and his.

The kiss breaks and her eyes fly open to meet his heavy gaze again. She takes a breath and he is capturing her mouth once more, his tongue insistent in its need to discover every secret she has not yet revealed to him in his heady explorations. His hand leaves her hair and trails down her arm and over onto her waist where he rests it lightly, his thumb just barely in contact against her stomach.

The slow languid strokes of his tongue have been replaced now by a rapidly increasing intensity as he circles the interior of her mouth, becoming more assertive in the taking of what he wants from her. She groans as his body shifts and she can feel his erection hard against her hip. His fingers push lightly against the fabric between her camisole and shorts and finds bare skin. He ghosts his fingers across it and she shudders violently against him.

His index finger hooks into the waistband of her shorts and runs along the length from the middle of her stomach and around to her backside before coming back again to the front. His hand slides up fully onto her stomach beneath the camisole and she gasps, her mouth pulling away from his forceful kiss as she draws in air. He seeks her lips immediately and she can do nothing but offer them back up to him, lost in the sensations of what his powerful tongue can do to her.

Jonathon slides his hand across her ribcage and over her side and up onto her back. Her shirt has ridden up quite a bit and he caresses the bare skin eagerly. His mouth leaves hers then and trails across her face to her jaw where he follows the jaw line up to her ear. He takes the lobe into his mouth and nibbles lightly upon it, his breath hot in her ear. Tingles flash through her body and she feels warmth beginning to pool between her thighs.

She squirms against him as he releases the earlobe and his lips map a course down her neck to the pulse point in her throat. She tilts her head backwards, exposing herself to his sweet torments as his teeth scrape lightly against her and his tongue makes tiny little patterns that have her lifting her pelvis towards him. His tongue traces down to her clavicle, swirling inside the indentation before moving up onto the saddle of her shoulder. This time he bites gently into her skin, before kissing and sucking at the little marks she’s sure he’s made.

He kisses her mouth again briefly before putting his hand on her shoulder and pushing her flat on her back. His body half covers her now, his leg securely between hers and his weight firmly, but not crushingly, holding her down. She likes the feel of him, the solidity despite his slight frame. His eyes seek hers out again before his mouth descends to her throat again.

He sucks hard against her neck and she can feel the deep bruising of a hickey rising to the surface, but she doesn’t care. Her hands play across his back, stroking and soothing the hard angles and planes. As the force of what he’s doing increases she digs her fingernails into his back. The pressure at her throat almost hurts, but there is pleasure there, too and she doesn’t want him to stop. When he releases her with a popping sound she almost sobs at the loss.

His tongue strokes out to soothe the mark he’s made then he raises himself up to admire his handiwork. His fingers glide across the tender bruise and he smiles in self-satisfaction. “You look good in purple,” he says with a slight smirk.

She giggles and is rewarded with that smile. His expression turns serious as he continues to hold himself above her. “How far do you want to go tonight?” he asks her.

She blushes at his straight-forward question. It is obvious he wants there to be no mistaking his intentions and no miscommunications over what she wants. “I…,” she begins and breaks off. She swallows hard and tries to think of what to say. It is hard to be coherent, to come to any sort of conclusion with his body nearly covering hers and him hovering above her like he is. She wants to get lost in the tide of emotions, of physical sensations, of desire and need.

Her eyes drop to his hairy forearms then drift to his upper arms. She watches as the muscles strain a bit as he holds his weight up off of her. “I don’t know,” she hedges. “Can I…can I just…stop you if it feels like too much?” The last few words rush out like a released balloon. She feels incredibly young in this moment, afraid to go after what she wants, afraid to say what she is feeling.

“Rose…” He sighs. “It’d be better if you’d be a bit more specific.”

“But I can’t,” she bursts out. “Because I don’t know! All I know is not sex. Not yet. I’ve got my monthly anyway.” The last is blurted.

“Yes, I had noticed,” he tells her. “You weren’t exactly subtle when packing.”

Rose blushes again. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “Just tell me what you want. I need to know your limits.” He rolls off her then and onto his back and she feels a recoil in her body as he moves himself away.

“I don’t know where they are. Jonathon, I’ve not…I don’t…this isn’t something I do. I’m careful not to do…this.” She gestures at the bed, at the whole situation. “I don’t fall for men I’ve barely met; I certainly don’t end up living with them for a few days after knowing them so briefly and sleeping in their beds and making out like a randy adolescent every chance I get.” She lets out a puff of air in frustration that blows her fringe out of her eyes.

“But--.”

“I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do. And if you go too far I’ll tell you and I trust that you’ll be able to stop yourself,” she says. He raises his hand to cover his eyes then pushes it back through his hair, his own frustration readily apparent at the situation. Rose decides she’s had enough of that and simply rolls herself onto him, takes his face in her hands and kisses him.

He’s hesitant at first, but she teases his lips apart and thrusts her tongue into his mouth rather aggressively. The tension that had entered his body seems to melt away beneath her touch, his skittishness vanishing as she rekindles the fire that had been burning between them. When she finally breaks away she says, “Okay?”

He growls her name and flips them over so that she’s mostly beneath him again. She smiles at his desire to be in charge, smiles more deeply as he peppers kisses across her eyelids, cheekbones, jaw and throat. His lips trail to her upper chest and his hand strokes at the line between camisole and shorts before slowly sliding up underneath the top and heading upwards.

She stills as he reaches the underside of her left breast, but all he does is simply rest his hand there. Her heartbeat races and she is torn between wanting him to move upwards and wanting him to stop. Wanting him to touch her more intimately is rapidly taking the lead in the battle of her will and her desires.

His kiss grows more passionate and she drags her hand down his back to rest it on his bum. She lightly strokes the firm muscles there and he shivers and jerks his pelvis into her, his erection like steel against her thigh. He moans into her mouth and she can’t help but groan in return as his fingers tenderly caress the underside of her breast, moving with slow determination.

Jonathon’s hand moves to the side of the gently sloping flesh, kneading lightly and then when she does not object, a bit more firmly. Rose pushes her body up into him as he spreads his large hand across the entire breast, fingers moving delicately in feather touches across her skin. She is burning where he touches her, her nerve-endings responding in ways they never do when her own hand moves across the same area.

His palm ghosts over the nipple and she whimpers at the violent wave of arousal at the apex of her thighs. He breaks their kiss at last and his gaze seeks out hers. She sees desire welling within his eyes, the soft chocolate orbs heavy, lidded, and oh, so inflamed with wanting; a want she has put there. It’s too much and she closes her eyes tightly at the raw need she has read in his.

He moves down her body then, pushing up her shirt to just beneath her breasts with his free hand. He lowers his lips to the firm skin of her stomach and slowly licks and sucks his way across it until she is squirming with an appetite for him that surprises her with its voraciousness. His second hand moves up to join the first on her other breast and she thinks she’s going to lose it as he strokes the nipples in tandem, his thumbs rubbing tight little circles across them, then tracing along the areolas, then back again to brush against the budded peaks.

Silently she curses the fact that she’s menstruating because she’s ready, so ready to give in and let him make love to her. She moans his name and her legs fall open and he is settling between them and slowly moving her shirt up an inch at a time until he’s exposed one breast to his gaze and suddenly she’s frightened and her eyes fly back open.

But all she sees is a look of such earnest tenderness that her flight response is shut back down and she watches him as he takes in her appearance, watches as he eases the camisole further towards her throat to expose both breasts and he takes in a deep breath and whispers, “Rose. You are so beautiful.”

He leans down to kiss her breast and then his mouth has found her nipple and he is sucking it into his mouth, his teeth scraping lightly against the tip. He brings his tongue to bear, twirling it about the puckered button and she cries out as electricity shoots from nipple to navel to groin in a mighty jolt. He sucks harder, his hand making sure the other side is not neglected as he laves the bud again and again with his tongue. He bites down for a moment with gentle pressure and then returns to the swirls that are driving her crazy. And then he sucks hard, harder than he’s done so far and she feels something rising up inside of her and suddenly she is shaking and bucking and with complete and utter shock she realizes she is coming violently against him.

He sucks until the movements stop, until she stills beneath him and he pulls away and finds her eyes. She blushes furiously as he studies her face. “Well,” he says looking quite pleased with himself. “That was new.”

“For me, too,” she whispers huskily. “That was…oh, Jonathon…” She can’t say more, the words won’t come. Instead she reaches for him and he moves upwards, cradling her body against his, her breasts pressing tightly to his chest and his pelvis aligning with hers.

Rose moves against him, his erection pressing against her sex through the fabric of their clothes. “Rose?” he asks. She moves again. “Let me give you this much,” she whispers to him throatily.

“Are you sure?” he asks her. She nods and he starts rubbing himself against her. He goes slow drawing out his pleasure along with her own. But even with slow movements they have been at this for too long for him to last. His speed increases, the friction intense and a few minutes later he shudders and shakes erratically as he comes against her. He lays there panting for a moment and then pulls away from her.

He is embarrassed for coming in his pants like a teenager, she can see that, but she reaches for his face and runs her hand across it soothingly. She thinks what they have done is beautiful. She thinks that when her period is over they will be consummating this relationship.

“Let me go get cleaned up,” he says softly and he slips away, retrieves fresh clothing and removes himself to the bathroom. He is but a few minutes and then he returns, slides onto the bed and pulls her to him.

“You are amazing, Rose,” he tells her.

“I liked that,” she says in response. “I…Jonathon, you make me feel…I can’t even…” She stops and kisses his chest, snuggling tightly against him.

“Yeah,” he says. “Me, too.” He holds her for the rest of the evening and they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Ch. 15: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/144633.html