amberfocus | A Sky Without Zeppelins: Chapter Twenty-Two

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                                                                        Chapter Twenty-Two

Rose sits, a bit uncomfortably really, at the kitchen table chopping vegetables. She shifts about trying to find a way of resting that doesn’t bother her so much. It isn’t helping that Jonathon keeps shooting her little smirks about her obvious discomfort. He’s pleased with himself, is still quite proud of how she’d walked crookedly out of the bathroom earlier, and even though she should be annoyed she can’t really bring herself to be. Not after that shower and his rather ingenious use of the massaging shower head feature.

It had been, she’d thought at the time, a very good thing that the rest of his condom stash was in the bathroom, because she isn’t sure they would have had the time or the inclination to interrupt their activities enough to run back to the bedroom for a new one. The man was devilishly clever and although the shower had not been the most ideal location for what they were doing, he had introduced her to yet another position, this one far more intriguing than any they’d attempted so far, and one she hadn’t previously been aware existed. And all the while he’d been holding the detachable showerhead at a very stimulating angle for her pleasure while he made love to her.

Of course if they are ever going to do that one again she will seriously need to stretch first. For an 'old man' of thirty-four, her Jonathon is incredibly limber. The way he can move his body… She watches him with heavy eyes and cannot believe it when her knickers begin to dampen again. She’s sure she’s far too sore. Not internally mind, though by all rights she ought to be rubbed raw, but he has been quite careful to make sure she is thoroughly lubricated each time and she supposes that makes all the difference. No, it’s the ache in her thighs really that might prevent any more loving. Though she supposes there might be some position that doesn’t involve the use of those muscles. She licks her lips as she stares at him. Damn, how can she still be randy?

“You keep looking at me like that, Rose, and I’m going to take you right here on the kitchen table,” he tells her.

Rose groans. “You’re insatiable,” she complains without any actual irritation.

“I am a bit. I feel like a horny teenager again, but when it comes to you I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough,” he says, his voice dropping to the deep, sensual timbre and his eyes getting that heavy-lidded sleepy look she’s starting to recognize as the ones that come directly before pouncing.

It’s a lovely thought but she is starting to ache a bit, her body protesting its recent abuses. And she’s tired. She’s slept and fairly well, too, but there’s a bone weariness that she’s felt since the night before. She frowns as she realizes it’s been with her ever since that bit of dissipating black fog lightly touched her cheek. She’d been running on adrenaline at the time, but she’d still felt an instant energy drain.

“Jonathon?” she says pushing aside the completed dice of potatoes, onions and bell peppers.

“Yes, love?” he asks hopefully and she knows that he’s still got only one thing on his mind. But this is serious. She bites her lip and his sudden concern is obvious. “What?” he asks in an altogether different tone.

“That…stuff last night…the cloud…what was it?” she wants to know.

“I don’t know. They said on the news that it was some kind of gas,” he tells her, but his voice is heavy with skepticism.

“I don’t think I can believe that. Not with what I know about physics,” she says slowly.

“Nor do I,” he admits. “It moved like it had a purpose. And gas doesn’t do that.”

“Do you think…?” Rose breaks off not sure how to continue. What she’s about to say sounds completely crazy and she’s not sure how to phrase it at all.

“What?” he prompts gently.

There’s no way for it but to say it. The words come out on a rush. “Do you think it was sentient?”

“Sentient?” he muses.

“I know it sounds ridiculous--.”

“But it doesn’t,” he interrupts. “I saw how it was behaving same as you did. I said it seemed like it had a purpose. Sentience…it doesn’t sound as far fetched as it might have a few days ago.” He sounds curiously sure of himself.

“But…then…it can’t be from here, can it?” she wonders her mind pursuing a path that until now has only ever been conjecture before, a possibility but not something that might be firmly rooted in fact. “It has to be…otherworldly.”

“Alien, you mean.” It’s not a question.

“You must think I’m a total nutter,” Rose says afraid to meet his eyes.

“If you are, then I must be one, too,” he replies and her grateful gaze locks on his. “Whatever that was last night, Rose, I truly don’t think it’s of this Earth.”

"Do you believe in aliens then?" she asks.

He gives her a look she can't quite interpret, as if he's holding something back from her. "I don't not believe in aliens," he finally says.

Her sigh of relief that her goofball theory doesn’t seem to be quite so silly after all relaxes her. “Thing is…it—Jonathon, it—touched me and ever since then I’ve felt…so tired.”

“Well, it was a long day, and you did some amazing things. That whole chain swinging, lasers blasting, coming to our rescue thing…I wanted to shag you right there on the exposition hall floor,” he admits. Rose giggles. “Seriously. It was a major turn on.”

“I’ll remember that,” she says cheekily, “if I’m ever in the position to do it again.”

“Speaking about doing it and positions, I was serious about the kitchen table thing…”

“Jonathon,” she says warningly and he subsides with a pout.

“But it’s not just that, being tired from the swinging and the running and everything else we’ve done in the past 14 hours. I’ve slept enough, I think, to make up for all of the extra,” she pauses and leers at him a bit despite herself, “exercise. I feel like that…thing, whatever it was, drained me. I don’t feel quite right.”

“Well, then,” he says, “right after breakfast we’re getting dressed and heading over to Illuminate.”

“What? Why?” she asks him puzzled.

“Cutting edge medical technology. If that thing hurt you,” and his voice fills with emotion at the very thought of that, “maybe we can find out how.”

Rose nods and stands to take the diced vegetables over to the stove where she throws them into a skillet with some extra virgin olive oil and begins to sauté them while Jonathon gets on with the rest of breakfast under her instructions. Their cooking lessons have come along quite nicely.

Jonathon can’t seem to stop touching her, his hands finding ways to come into contact with hers, or his thigh brushing against her hip. Not that she’s complaining one bit. She adores the contact far more than she ever thought she would enjoy someone with grabby hands. It all depends on who is doing the grabbing, she supposes. He leans in and kisses the back of her neck and his table fantasy is looking more and more promising as his hot breath slides down to her shoulder.

She turns into him and he meets her in a kiss and one of his hands inveigles itself into the top of her robe, stroking against the naked skin underneath it. She pulls away reluctantly. “The food’s going to burn,” she tells him.

“We can turn it off,” he growls as his lips nudge across her jaw line and she tilts her head into his tongue as it heads for her ear.

“Don’t think we’re going to be successful at turning anything off today,” she says breathily as her body arches into him. Her hand reaches around him and she flicks the burners off on the stove. He nudges her back a bit from him then and pulls the belt on the robe. It falls open, revealing hints of her breasts. His fingers hook into the fabric of her small green knickers and he slides them down her legs to the floor. He kisses her knees before rising back up and pulling the robe from her body. It puddles into a fluffy pink nest at her feet.

Rose reaches for his robe and pulls the tie. He pulls a condom out of the pocket and then shrugs it off and is fully naked beneath it, his erection bobbing impressively at full staff. He pushes her back towards the table and her bum hits it. “My thighs,” she says, “ache.”

"We can do this without spreading your thighs," he says darkly. He turns her around and presses down on her back and she leans over the table. He runs his hands up one arm until they reach her hand and he lifts it, positioning it to grasp one edge at the side of the table. His fingers dance up the other arm and move it, too. Rose turns her head to one side and rests it against the smooth red wood.

He leans over her, his chest brushing against her back, then resting his weight fully against her. She feels him hard against her body but he makes no move to enter her. His arms spread across hers, gripping each wrist between thumb and forefingers, his body pushing her breasts into the hard table top, and his lips moving across her neck. He is possessive of her, marking his territory, asserting his dominance. Or that is how it makes her feel. She finds she doesn’t mind, realizes it’s turning her on even more. He licks at each vertebrae and she squirms against him, her bum pushing firmly into his pelvis.

Slowly he releases his hold on her and moves backwards, tracing her spine with his tongue until he reaches her waist. He stands then and his hands lingeringly caress her buttocks before one hand trips down to her entrance. He tests her depths carefully and finds that she is soaking in her anticipation. “Please,” she tells him.

“Please what, Rose?” he asks in a voice heavy with heat. He trails his finger through her folds pausing just short of her clitoris before slinking back up and inside her body again. He adds a second finger and a little twist that makes her quiver. The fingers slide out again and back down through her folds, never quite touching her bundle of nerves. On the return trip he adds a third finger.

“Please, please,” she begs him beyond caring how she sounds. All she knows is she wants him inside her. His fingers absent themselves again and this time when they move they touch ever so lightly the little button of desire. Rose groans again. “Stop teasing me!”

She hears the tearing of foil and then his penis nestles teasingly at her entrance as he plays with just pushing the first inch or so in and out of her, one hand still stroking her clit. “Jonathon!” she protests. Her legs are shaking.

His voice is dark when he answers her. “Grip tightly,” he warns her and a fresh flush of desire sweeps through her. He pushes himself fully into her and she comes, clamping down hard on his penis. He holds himself still within her and then when she is finally done he begins to move.

He sets a pace that is almost ferocious and Rose is glad for his warning to grip the table. Her fingers are almost white she’s holding on so hard. He, too, is holding on hard, his hands grasping tightly at her hips as he propels himself in and out of her almost like a madman. She can feel another orgasm building within her. This isn’t the sort of lovemaking she’s going to want every day but for right now, this minute, it’s pretty amazing.

Jonathon makes a noise deep in his throat and comes hard inside her, the force moving the table across the kitchen a good six inches. He comes to a rest within her then withdraws quickly. He turns her around, lifts her onto the table and falls to his knees, pushing his head between her thighs and narrowing in immediately on her clit. He thrusts three fingers inside her and sucks hard, bringing her to a screaming orgasm in less than two minutes.

As soon as she can stand he guides her into a chair then disposes of the condom. With a thorough washing up at the sink he resumes cooking breakfast without a word, completely naked while she watches him with the same sort of heavy eyes that got her into trouble in the first place. From time to time she has to suppress a giggle as he dances back from the spitting hot oil. And this time when she shifts about in the hard wooden chair, it isn’t just from the sore thigh muscles. She realizes with a reluctant sigh that this most recent bout is likely to be the last for the day. Her eyes trail down to his bum. Maybe.

Jonathon turns the stove off and dishes up the food setting one plate down in front of Rose. He snags milk and orange juice from the fridge and then smiles tenderly at her. “I love you,” he says intensely his eyes locking with hers.

“I love you,” she says with emotion in her eyes and voice. She is the happiest she has ever been in her life.

They tuck in to breakfast and do the washing up before retrieving their robes from the kitchen floor. Rose trudges tiredly towards the bedroom in front of him. Jonathon can’t keep his eyes from settling on her bum as she walks in front of him. He still can’t believe any of this is happening. It’s like a dream, a beautiful dream of a future he’d never expected to have. And Rose, his beautiful Rose, is giving it to him.

He wants to make love to her again, but with a rueful downwards glance realizes that the phrase, “It’s dead, Jim,” would definitely apply in this situation. He’s still not entirely sure how he’s managed to make love to her this often in such a short period of time. As much as he’d love to keep at it, for now at least, it’s impossible. And anyway, the uncomfortable way she’s moving tells him that perhaps they’ve overdone it as it is. Rose is completely unused to this sort of thing, despite her willingness and eagerness to follow his lead. He still can’t help the swelling of masculine pride that he did this to her, but really he ought to make it up to her a little.

“So, we should get dressed and head on over to Illuminate,” Rose says with a longing glance back at the bed.

“It can wait a bit, I think,” he tells her in a low voice, his eyes straying in the direction of the bed as well. They could both do with a good rest and maybe he can do something about her soreness before holding her in his arms for a bit of a snuggle.

“Jonathon, I don’t think I can,” she begins completely misinterpreting his intentions.

“No, Rose, I wasn’t… You’re moving like you’re awfully sore. Thought maybe you could do with a massage.” He glances away from her a bit embarrassed, “I have some oils…” He trails off. Oils were one of the things Donna had suggested he pick up. She’d even given him suggestions on fragrances.

“It’s my hips and thighs,” Rose admits. “I’m not used to using those muscles in quite that way.”

He grins at her. “So since it’s my fault you’re hurting, let me fix you,” he suggests.

She glances at the bed again. From the look on her face she can’t quite resist the idea. “Okay,” she tells him. She crawls onto the bed and lays face down. Jonathon heads into the bathroom and comes out a moment later with some bottles and a towel.

“What do you prefer? I have peach, almond, and vanilla,” he offers.

“Peach,” Rose says. Jonathon has her get up a moment and spreads a big towel on the bed to keep the oil from ruining the duvet. Once in place again he spreads the oil on his hands and begins massaging the backs of her thighs. Rose sighs into his touch as his fingers work their magic on her sore muscles. Soon he moves on to her hips and buttocks and then on to the rest of her body.

She responds dreamily when he asks her to turn over so he can work on the front. She sighs and turns, her eyes staying firmly shut. His fingers knead her arms and legs, then the tops of her thighs. He gently pushes them apart and works on the tender inner muscles. His eyes roam her body coming most often to rest on her sex. The knotted muscles finally give and he settles down beside her.

Rose has fallen completely asleep and so he eases an arm beneath her and pulls her close to him, his free hand lightly stroking her breasts and stomach. She sighs in her sleep and nudges closer to him and he smiles. She’s beautiful. She’s amazing. And she’s his.

His mind wanders back to all the various ways he’s made love to this woman, from sweet and tender to forceful to primal and despite her inexperience she has matched him nearly every step of the way and trusted him enough to allow him what he’s wanted to do. He is still a bit surprised she didn’t protest his rather dominant behavior in the kitchen, but the way her eyes had glowed at him afterwards made him think she rather liked it. It makes his mind wander a bit to other ways he can make love to her. He rather fancies the idea of taking her up against a wall, but that’ll have to wait until she’s gotten a bit more used to making love, he thinks.

Jonathon kisses her forehead and brushes a strand of hair away from her mouth, his fingers straying to her temple. The intensity of his feelings for the woman astound him, bursting through his mind in an explosion of love. He is overwhelmed at the sensation, panting to catch his breath as if he’s been physically hit. He pulls her tightly to him and she murmurs his name and sighs. He wants to hold onto her forever.

An hour later Rose wakes and smiles at him, her expression one of delight and joy. They take another reasonably chaste shower together and dress. It’s time to head over to Illuminate. Jonathon’s arm around Rose’s shoulders as they leave his flat is only partially to keep her walking straight. It’s mostly because he can’t bear the thought of letting her go. Judging from the way she holds his waist, she doesn’t want to let go of him either. If he has his way, she’ll never have to.

Ch. 23:  http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/158938.html