amberfocus | A Sky Without Zeppelins (36/?)

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Chapter Thirty-Six

Jonathon smiles as he watches Rose bend down and remove her shoes, enjoys the way the fabric slides across her body. When Rose straightens up again she catches him looking. “Are you staring at my bum?” she asks him.

“Oh, yes,” he admits. “It’s frankly magnificent.” Rose blushes hotly under his gaze and he grins even wider. He catches her in his arms and holds her closely to him for a long moment, pressing a kiss to her forehead before releasing her. He shrugs out of his suit jacket and tosses it on the couch and removes his shoes only to find Rose in turn ogling his arse.

“Like what you see, then?” he asks her and Rose nods, blushing even brighter pink. He loosens his tie and then pulls it free of his neck dropping it on top of the jacket. “Champagne?” he asks. Rose nods again and he heads to the kitchen, opens the chilled bottle and pours some of it into two champagne flutes.

He returns to the living room only to find Rose gone. He pads into the bedroom, sees the curtains drawn back and blowing slightly in the soft breeze, the French doors to the balcony thrown open wide. He smiles at the sight of Rose standing there staring out at the warm Paris night. She’s taken down her hair, the locks flowing free in the light breeze.

He sets the glasses down for a moment and retrieves a condom from his stash in the bathroom, putting it into his pocket for ease of locating later on, then picks up the champagne again and joins Rose out on the balcony. He hands her a glass and she takes a delicate sip, laughing as the bubbles tingle up her nose. “Mmm,” she says. “It’s good.”

He takes his own sip, agrees with her and moves to stand beside her. He leans on his forearms against the rail. “I don’t think I could ever get used to this view,” he says. “Not if we were to live here for years.”

Rose sighs. “It’s beautiful,” she says. Her eyes are focused on the Eiffel Tower. “Are we going to go there?” she asks him nodding in its direction.

“Tomorrow,” he tells her. “It’s the first thing on the agenda.” They sip slowly from their flutes, savoring the delicate flavor of the beverage. Rose’s hip is pressed against his thigh and she leans her head against his arm. He moves it around her and brings her in so that her head now rests against his shoulder.

When they finish their drinks he sets them down gently on the little table at one end of the balcony and comes up behind Rose, his arms going around her, stroking down the front of her satin dress. The fabric feels marvelous under his fingers and he continues to rub his hands across her stomach, upper thighs and down her sides, before bringing them up several minutes later to cup her breasts.

Rose lets out a small whimpering sound as he circles her nipples and presses backwards into him, her bum pushing against his erection. His hands begin to pull the fabric up her body until he’s got it bunched at her waist. “Jonathon,” she complains. “We can’t. Not out here.”

“Of course we can,” he purrs, his breath hot against her neck as he kisses the spot where it meets her shoulder. She shivers. “We’re up higher than anyone else. No one can see what we’re doing. There’s no other balcony on this side of the building. What’s stopping us?”

“I—I guess nothing,” she says. She’s got that cute, nervous quiver in her voice that she gets when he’s introducing something new to her sexually and he smiles when she once again pushes her backside into his erection.

“Do you want to?” he asks her. His hands slide down to her hips and he pushes forward. “I want to.” Another nudge and he’s trapped her against the balustrade. “Sex outdoors is exhilarating,” he murmurs huskily in her ear and she shudders. “What do you want to do, Rose?”

He strokes his hands down the sides of her thighs until she’s started a rhythm of pressing back into him and then he loops his finger into the side of her knickers, pulling them down one side at a time with one hand while continuing to hold her dress out of his way with the other. His fingers stroke across the smooth lobes of her buttocks. “Do you want me to take you under the stars?”

He slips the knickers down further but doesn’t bother to remove them, just gets them to her knees. His fingers seek out her heat and he gently caresses the soft skin between her thighs before angling in and parting the folds. His index finger slides forward to dance against the center of her pleasure, the little nubbin enlarging even as he applies his gentle touch. Rose groans and murmurs his name as he continues to stroke her.

“Hmm?” he hums. “Shall I continue?”

She nods and whimpers when he moves his fingers down to her entrance seeking moisture. When he finds her slick and ready he glides a finger inside her and she strains into his touch. He plays with her, sliding in and out, adding first a second finger then a third as he stretches her in preparation. She groans when he stops, mewls when he returns his attentions to her clitoris, comes when his thumb presses into her opening.

Her knees fail her and he has to hold her up while she recovers, her body wedged tightly between his and the stone rail. When she has control of her movements once more, he unzips himself and uses his teeth to tear open the condom packet. He rolls it onto his penis and pushes her dress back up again out of the way. Bending his knees a bit to get to the proper angle he lines himself up against her sex and slowly slips inside her body. She clenches hard once and he has to take a deep, steadying breath not to simply take her hard and fast against the balustrade.

He clutches her hips and begins a slow, gentle glide into and out of her body. She is tight and her heat is nearly enough to undo him, but he wants this to last. Taking Rose outdoors, while admiring the view of the city of lovers, the Eiffel Tower blazing and phallic in the darkness before them, adds an extra frisson of excitement to a lovemaking that has not yet become ordinary between them. He hopes it never becomes ordinary, that it always feels this special, this amazing, this scorchingly torrid between them.

Rose is making soft, kittenish noises each time he propels himself into her and the sounds are making it hard for him to maintain control. He wants to rush past the deliberate pace, move past the sensual to the simply animal, but he forces himself to maintain the deliberate rhythm he has set. Rose’s hands clench hard around the balustrade and his thrusts are beginning to lift her feet off the ground.

“Oh, please,” she says, “Jonathon, please.” She clenches her muscles around him. His control begins to unravel and his movements become faster. Rose makes a sound of satisfaction as he plunges harder into her. The pleasure that ripples through him is euphoric and he feels the tightening in his balls that indicates his orgasm is building fast.

Rose fights to slip one hand down to stroke herself and it is all she needs before she’s tripping over into another orgasm. She cries out his name, almost a scream and the rippling spasms send him spiraling off into his own pleasure as he pumps his seed into her body.

He rests against her for a moment before backing away and lowering her to her feet. He had lifted her clear off them in the last moments. Her dress drops back down to her feet. As she turns he lifts her into his arms and carries her inside, depositing her lightly on the bed.

He disposes of the condom and cleans himself up, returning to find her stripped of her clothes and lying naked beneath the sheets. He removes the rest of his own garments and slides in beside her. She curls into him, wrapping one thigh over his leg and an arm about his waist. They murmur their love to one another and their slow, even breathing fills the room. This is what it is to be happy. This is what it is to be content. This is what it is to have everything, everything you’ve ever dreamed of. He is, he thinks, the luckiest man in the world.

It is eleven o’clock before he stirs again. He shifts under Rose trying to ease a cramp in his arm and manages to slide out from underneath her body. He is reluctant to leave her but his muscles are sore so he stands up and shakes himself out and then with a yawn pads into the bathroom. He starts the water going in the tub. He is a relatively fit man, but all the extra walking has taken its toll on his muscles.

He has just eased his weary body down into the soothing waters when he hears a knock on the door. “Come in,” he calls out and the door opens and Rose appears in her dressing gown. “If you’d like to join me in that bath now,” he says gesturing to the tub, “I’d be more than happy to share.

Rose smiles at him and pins her hair up into a high bun on the top of her head before turning back to him and allowing the dressing gown to slip from her shoulders and slide to the floor at her feet. He slides to one side in the big tub and Rose steps in, settling beside him. He reaches out and pushes the little knob that starts the jets going and they both sigh as the hot water begins to swirl about them.

At first they simply hold hands, letting the heat and the swirling waters work their magic on muscles not used to doing so much climbing in a day as they did scrambling around the hill of Montmartre. Eventually that gives way to Rose turning in to his body and slowly stroking her hand over his stomach. His far hand moves over to rest on her breast, just holding it for several long minutes before his fingers are moving to circle the nipple.

Her hand lowers to enclose his penis, gently stroking it to a rather impressive new erection. Her thumb swirls across the tip and she plays with his foreskin before slipping back down to lightly caress his balls, then working her hand back and forth across his length. He sighs into her touch, his mouth going slack and his eyes closing as he simply surrenders to the sensations she invokes.

There is no urgency in their actions though, no rush to make love. Instead there is simple stroking on her part and kneading on his and the slow and gradual build up of desire. They talk about the beauty of the things they saw earlier in the day and Rose asks him, “Where are we going tomorrow? Aside from the Eiffel Tower, I mean? The Louvre?”

“No, not the Louvre. That takes, oh, I’d say about three full days just to see it all. Trying to sandwich it in on a weekend trip wouldn’t do it justice. We could go to the Musée Rodin if you’d like to see a museum. We can easily do that in an afternoon.”

“No, not really. I’ve just always wanted to see the Louvre.”

“Maybe some day we can come back here on a full holiday and see it. Though the next time we go on holiday I’d like to take you to Italy,” he says. “But maybe we can come back to France on our honeymoon in a couple of years.”

Her hand freezes and her body tenses and he’s almost afraid to look at her. “I mean…I…” He stops, tries to backtrack but can’t figure out what exactly to say. “I’m sorry. Don’t mean to be planning your whole life out for you based on what I want to have happen. It’s just…well, you didn’t say, on the train I mean, you didn’t say no. You nodded and you, well you—.”

“Jonathon.” Rose shifts about so that she’s now facing him in the large tub, his hand dropping from her breast as she moves and hers sinking down to rest on his thigh. “I want to spend my life with you,” she says simply. “So yeah, if you want to come back to France on our honeymoon then that’s fine by me.”

“You mean you do want to marry me?” he asks.

“This isn’t you proposing, is it?” Rose asks.

“In a bathtub, Rose? I’d have hoped by now I’ve proven to you I’m a more romantic man than that,” he tells her.

Rose laughs. “I think being married to you will be the greatest adventure I could ever have. One day. But like we talked about before, that day is a long way off. Still, you don’t have to freak out every time you slip up and say something like ‘our honeymoon’ or ‘when we have kids’ or whatever. We can talk about this, so long as…so long as we don’t rush to get there.”

“I don’t want to rush, Rose. Honestly, I don’t. I want to take my time and enjoy every minute of our relationship as it unfolds. Just because I want to marry you, just because I want to have children with you, doesn’t mean I need or even want that part of our lives to start now. It’s enough that you belong to me,” he says.

Rose raises an eyebrow. “I belong to you?” she says a bit huffily at his possessiveness.

“Aye,” he says. His voice darkens and he can see the effect of it sliding over her like warm butter when his accent deepens. “Same way that I belong to you. Doesn’t stop you from being your own person. I would never want to stop that. I adore your own person. I adore her very, very much.”

He sits up with a loud sloshing sound, displacing the water in the tub, and reaches out with dripping fingers to cradle her face. She leans into his warm, wet touch and smiles at him, that slow distracted smile that means she’s thinking about making love with him. She closes her eyes for a moment and then abruptly pulls away from him, breaking the moment.

“I’m getting pruney,” she tells him. “Time to get out.” She stands up, water sluicing off her body and bringing to mind the image of Venus rising fully formed from out of the sea at her birth. It is an apt thought. Sometimes when he looks at her while they are making love he thinks she is a goddess. Sometimes when he dreams about her he sees her shining, brilliant and golden.

Rose steps out of the bathtub and reaches for one of the pale blue, Egyptian cotton towels. He turns the jets off and toes the drain open with his foot before standing himself. Rose watches him emerge from the water as she dries herself off, then hands him a second towel. She turns deliberately to the bathroom drawer he’s put the condoms in and takes one out.

“Best get one for morning, too,” he says in a gravelly voice. Rose tosses a grin over her shoulder and retrieves two more and he laughs. When he’s done drying off his body she reaches out her hands to him, waggling her fingers and he catches hold of them. With a gentle tug she leads him back to the bedroom, drops his hands, puts the condoms under a pillow and then lays down in the center of the bed.

Rose holds up her arms for him and he joins her so quickly the bed bounces a bit and she giggles. She loves his enthusiasm for her and isn’t afraid to let him know, throwing her arms about him and hugging him to her soft, yielding flesh. When her hold finally relaxes on him he begins the rather exuberant business of making love to Rose Tyler.

He starts by bringing his mouth down and just catching the corner of her lower lip between his. She shivers as he strokes his tongue just inside the inner edge before he slips between her parted lips and begins a careful inventory of her delights. He runs one hand across the indentations of her clavicle before sliding down and over the softly rounded flesh of her right breast and moving across her stomach.

His fingers continue their trek as they slip over to the inside of her hipbone before reaching as far down her thigh as he can reach and still possess her mouth. He ghosts his hands back upwards and she squirms and gasps as his fingers whisper across her waist and ribs. She is slightly ticklish but not ever to the point where she pulls away from his touch or asks him to stop.

Jonathon’s mouth leaves her lips and he trails wet kisses across her jaw and up to each eyelid before peppering her neck with small, delicious nibbles that have her arching her body up off the bed. He smiles against her skin as he licks and sucks at her pulse point then drifts to her left shoulder and down to where her breast just begins to rise up. He marks her there, creating suction with his teeth and bruising the skin. Her hands slide into his hair, holding him against her, encouraging him to suck harder and he does so, one hand moving down to the soft mound just above the joining of her thighs.

He threads his fingers through the soft curls there and she shifts, opening her thighs for him. He slips his hands down further to the moist folds, already slick with her arousal. He opens her with thumb and middle finger, his index finger seeking out and quickly finding the little bud that has already risen in her desire for him. Jonathon circles the tip ever so lightly.

He releases the suction on her breast and laves the vivid purple hickey with his tongue, soothing it, then kissing it, then sliding down to her nipple and lipping it gently before bringing it more firmly into his mouth to work it with his tongue. Rose moans as he increases the pressure on her clitoris. Her hands are still tangled in his hair and she is pulling lightly, running her fingers through the chestnut locks and making encouraging noises of incoherence.

When he releases her nipple with a pop she lets out a little reluctant gurgle but he is already kissing his way down her body and when she realizes his intention she spreads her thighs further apart and he scrambles over her legs to settle between them. Her hands have slid from his hair as he moved out of range of her fingers and he misses the sensation against his scalp but he has more of a need to taste her so he pushes forward, his tongue sliding quickly into her opening and making her gasp.

He reaches as far up inside her as he can, swirls his tongue in powerful circles that has her fisting the sheets in her hands. He loves the taste of her, the heady scent of her arousal. He encloses her entire sex with his lips and sucks at the soft folds before pulling his tongue out of her body and stroking up between them.

He brings all of his focus onto the pleasure center that is her clitoris then, sucks it fully into his mouth, his teeth just barely scraping at the tender nubbin. Rose trembles beneath his ministrations. He starts spelling out words with his tongue, words like I love you, mine, forever, always, possess, take, and onwards to coarser words he’s not yet said in her presence, unsure of how she might react.

Rose has been rather sexually sheltered and though he’ll push for what he wants, he won’t push her further than she’s prepared to go. He knows enough to realize that actions and the words that go with them don’t always go hand in hand and she might be uncomfortable with him whispering vulgar language in her ear. That won’t stop him from using them on her body, though. Or carrying through with the words he spells if she is amenable. And so far she’s always been amenable to his wants.

Rose groans loudly, tells him she’s so close and he shoves three fingers quickly inside her. Rose screams out his name as she clenches hard around his hand. He continues to lick at her clitoris until her quakes subside, then he sits up and pulls his hand away. He watches her as coherence returns to her face and waits for her eyes to meet his in the dim lamplight. When he has her full attention he licks his fingers clean one by one, watching her squirm as he does so.

“I want you,” she tells him. “I want you, Jonathon. Inside me. Right now.” She reaches under the pillow and hands him a condom and stares at him steadily as he puts it on. “Hard,” she says. “Fast. Please.”

He moves into her body and lines himself up with her entrance. Her eyes fall shut as he plunges deeply inside her. He gathers her legs up so that her knees are supported by his elbows and then he withdraws. He returns to her quickly, encasing himself once again in her tightening walls. Rose encourages him to move faster with an impatient upwards buck and then he does, beginning a hard, pistoning drive into her body.

He loves their sweet and tender moments but he craves this, too; this primal taking of his lover, this simple, mindless thrusting of two bodies yearning, aching, straining towards a completion that will overwhelm them both when it comes. He pounds into her body, his only focus on achieving orgasm and giving Rose what she wants. She begs him to move harder still, to go faster and he begins driving almost violently now, holding back only enough to ensure he does not hurt her, does not go too far.

Sweat pours from his body. He can feel it collecting in the crevices between them, smell her arousal as it fills the room with the redolent odor of sex. His balls make a powerful noise as they slap against her buttocks and Rose is crying out now with the impact of each thrust. Her hands are digging into his shoulders and she’s still begging him for more. He pushes her legs back yet further, resting them on his shoulders and getting even deeper access to her depths.

As he pounds against her she cries out and then she crashes into an orgasm that nearly hurts him with its vice-like clamping around his penis. It yanks his seed from his body with unexpected, blinding force and he yells out wordlessly as he pours himself into her. He drives in even after he’s finished until he’s utterly spent and then he drops her legs down and collapses on top of her.

Rose wraps her arms and legs around him tightly, holding their dripping bodies together and she finds his mouth and thrusts her tongue inside. She fights with him for possession and he fights back, the dance long and unyielding as neither wants to give up control. Despite the fact that he is going soft he wants to take her again, wants to assert full and utter dominance over her. She has brought something up in him that is begging him to make her his forever, mark her, do something…something more that he can’t even begin to comprehend.

His heart is pounding, his mind racing, and his hand moves shakily towards her temple instinctively seeking that something more, but then she breaks the kiss and her arms and legs are loosening and the vivid desire for whatever it is he’s wanting begins to fade. He pulls himself out of her and moves away quickly, making his escape to the bathroom where he cleans himself up.

He leans against the bathroom door for a long minute taking in deep gulps of air and wondering what it is that made him lose so much of his control. There is something about Rose, there always has been right from the start that has made him want to own her heart, possess her body, and share her future. But there has never been such sheer, utter taking between them before.

It scares him and yet he craves it, craves this woman with a ferocity that is overtaking every other need within him. He forces himself to find his control, to try to silence the hormones that even now are still raging within him. When he finally has his breathing under control again he splashes cold water on his face then takes a deep breath and goes out to face her, no longer sheer animal instinct but once again the caring and compassionate lover.

Rose is waiting just outside the door, slips past him and into the bathroom without a word. He settles back onto the bed and waits for her return. It isn’t long in coming and then she’s curling up next to him, draping herself over his body in the fashion he’s become accustomed to and kissing his side. “I love you,” she says. “That was…that was amazing. And I love you.”

His arms tighten around her. When he doesn’t speak she wiggles around until she can look up at him. “I didn’t hurt you?” he asks at her curious stare.

“You gave me what I wanted,” she tells him. “Were you afraid you’d hurt me?” He nods slowly.

“I used a lot of force.”

“I know,” she says. “But I’m fine. It was a good, hard shag. Not everything has to be tender. I thought…I thought you liked it that way.”

“I do,” he is quick to say, “sometimes, but I never want it to be more than you can handle.”

“If it ever is, I’ll stop you.” Her logical words reassure him and he reaches out and brushes her hair back from her face, his fingers trailing over the pulse at her temple. He is awash suddenly in feelings of completion, love, satiety, and utter faith that everything between them is all right, is more than all right.

It is all he can do to keep from jerking his hand away from her head. Instead he slides it into her hair and then dips his head down to lay a gentle kiss across her lips. “I love you, Rose,” he tells her. She sighs contentedly against him and lays her head down against his chest, repeating his words back to him.

Rose is exhausted and it takes her little time to slip fully into sleep. He is awake for quite some time longer, his mind focusing on what happened when he touched her temple, on the maelstrom of beautiful emotions that had hit him when he had. He bites his lip and then raises his hand to her temple again. This time the feelings are less intense, more washed out, but they are still clearly there and they are just as clearly not his own.

Ch. 37: http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/216370.html