A Sky Without Zeppelins: Chapter Twelve

[amberfocus]

A/N:  Please note the rating change for this chapter. I'm going from teen to adult, due to a very sexy dream. If you don't want to read the smutty bits, skip the first 500 words or so. That part is definitely NC-17. There is a far less graphic section later in the chapter that is kissing and petting, but the high end of PG-13 to a softish R rating, nothing explicit in that part.  If the italics go wonky or the cut fails, it's not me, it's LJ.  Been trying to post the darn thing for an hour.

                                                                          Chapter Twelve

His hands push at her knees and they fall open willingly. He fondles her softly, his fingers gentle against her sex as they move between the folds. He dips a finger inside her and he finds that she is slick and wet, ready for him and oh, so wanton. “Jonathon. Jonathon.” Her head moves from side to side and she raises her hips into his hand.

Please,” she whispers. “Please.” He crawls between her lovely thighs, his body hovering over her as his eyes find hers in the dim half-light. She wraps her hand around his shaft and strokes him firmly once, twice, three times, and guides him to her entrance. “Please,” she begs again. He is achingly hard as he pushes into her body, a feral growl of triumph leaving his throat as he slides home. She cries out as he fills her and her hands reach for him, clutching at his shoulders, fingernails raking down his back. “Want you,” she whispers. “Want you so much, Jonathon. Only you. Only ever you.”

“Mine,” he growls, but he moves gently, withdraws, pushes into her again. She raises her hips forcefully into him. “Mine,” he repeats and his voice is rougher. She slams into him again.

His control flees at her movements, all plans to go slow, to make this last, to drive her to the very edge of desire before making her come, vanish. All that is left is a primal need to show her she is his, that she belongs to him. He drives into her body faster and faster and she meets each plunge with a defiant upwards thrust of her own, not entirely willing for him to own this moment alone, telling him that she may be his but he belongs only to her.

“Harder,” she demands and he increases the pace until he is pounding into her and she is making little noises with each movement, the ability for speech long forgotten.

“Need you, Rose, need you. Need you. Need you! Come for me!” he demands. And he reaches one hand up to the headboard to support his weight and pushes the other one between them.

He rubs vigorously at the apex of her thighs, all attention focused on that tiny bundle of nerves as he continues to thrust, and it only takes a moment before she is screaming and convulsing around him, her hot walls so tight that only seconds later he is exploding inside her. And it is better than anything he imagines each morning in the shower as he beats off to thoughts of her because it is real, she is in his arms, and he is in her body and he’ll stay like this forever if only she will let him.



Jonathon awakens with a start, breathing hard. He is no longer holding Rose’s hand, but neither is he between her thighs having just finished making love to her and he nearly groans in bitter disappointment because it is not real after all. Instead he is face down on the bed and judging from the stickiness in his pants he’s just had a wet dream. A rather amazing wet dream, but oh, for heaven’s sake, he’s not an adolescent! He shouldn’t lose control like that just because she is here next to him.

He wants to linger in the bliss of the moment, for the dream was more intense than any he has ever known, but Rose shifts in the bed and makes a small noise. Oh, please, please, please, don’t let her be awake, don’t let her realize what my body’s done, he pleads silently. “Rose?” he whispers softly, but there is no response. With a sigh of relief he climbs out of bed and pads over to the dresser and pulls out a clean pair of boxer briefs and another pair of pajama bottoms.

He heads to the loo to clean himself up and when he emerges Rose has moved again in her sleep. She is lying on her side, one hand thrown out as if seeking for him. He slips back into the bed, lifting her hand up and putting it on her side. She lies like that for a moment before edging towards him until her body presses up against his. “Rose?” he whispers again, but there is no response. He wiggles an arm around her and her head settles against his chest and the hollow of his shoulder, her breasts press into his side and her arm snakes around his waist.

She falls into a somewhat deeper sleep then, if the sound of her breathing is any indication. Several minutes later he holds still as she begins to move again, one of her legs creeping over his until she’s draped halfway over him. Now he’s quite glad he’s already come despite his embarrassment at losing control or he’d be in for a very uncomfortable rest of the night. As it is he still wants her quite badly. He concentrates on his breathing, urging his muscles to relax and eventually he drifts off to sleep again.



Rose is warm and happy when she drifts into consciousness the next morning. The first thing she feels is contentment, but it is followed very rapidly by the realization that she is not alone in bed. It takes her just a few seconds to remember the events of the previous night, to understand that it’s Jonathon she’s next to, and a further ten seconds to come to the conclusion that some time during the night she has managed to wrap her body around her new boyfriend’s.

“Jonathon?” she asks softly. There is no answer and she breathes a sigh of relief. She has begged him to go at her speed and laying half on top of him certainly might indicate to him that her speed has increased. Slowly and carefully she pulls her thigh away from his. When she’s succeeded in that she gently lifts her arm from his waist and puts it on her side before inching away from him until she’s lying on her back. She heaves another sigh of relief and then slides carefully out of the bed and hurries to the loo.

She stands against the door for a long moment, bringing her racing heart under control. She wants nothing more than to go back out there and run her hands across his body. “Get it together, Rose,” she whispers to herself.

A few minutes later she returns to the bedroom and climbs into bed with Jonathon. His arm is flung across her pillow and she either needs to move it or snuggle back into his body. She debates with herself for a long minute, but when it comes down to it it’s not really even a choice.

Her memory of waking up touching him, being against him is too powerful. Rose wants that feeling back too much. She curses herself for her lack of self-control, yet she climbs back into bed and cuddles into him again anyway, rests her hand over his heart and closes her eyes. Her body relaxes into his warmth, against the rightness of this feeling. She sleeps.



Rose wakes to the soft stroking of his hand against her arm. Her eyes flutter open and are met with the warm regard of Jonathon’s gaze. He smiles at her, a sweet and gentle smile that warms her through and sets up a strange tingling that has nothing to do with the goose bumps the touch on her arm is bringing her. His body is turned into hers and he reaches up to cradle her face with his hand then runs his fingers through her hair. “Morning,” he says in a husky voice. It is sleepy and sexy and she wants him.

“Morning,” she replies and her voice is breathless. Her stomach fills with butterflies as she smiles at him. Down, Rose, she tells herself.

“I like waking up next to you,” he tells her.

“Mmm,” she agrees ignoring the voice in her head. “It’s nice.”

He trails his fingertips over to her shoulder, down her arm and onto her hip. He switches fingers to palm, strokes softly up to her waist and back down to her hip again. She shivers at the feel of his large hand on her body and edges closer, tilting her head upwards, licking her lips. He takes the hint and wiggles closer, brushing his mouth against hers.

Jonathon’s tongue flicks out to test the seal of her lips. Her guard is down in the laziness of waking and the rising warmth of desire and she opens for him, drawing him inside. He takes a slow, leisurely survey of her mouth while his hand continues to ghost from waist to hip and back again. Rose reaches out for him, her fingers splaying against the bare skin of his chest and the hard, wiry muscles there. He gives a sharp intake of breath as her hand drifts down to his firm flat stomach, stopping just above his waistband.

Suddenly there is no room left between them, their bodies pressing tightly together. The languid kiss turns heated and she can feel his erection hard against her thigh. Warning bells go off in her head and she tells them firmly to mind their own business. Rose lets out a small whimpering sound that is quickly swallowed by passion as he rubs his whole body lightly against hers. Her hands creep into his hair and she battles with his tongue, moving the kiss into his mouth where she darts and dips at a dizzying pace.

He overbalances her body, pressing her down against the mattress, his thigh moving between hers and he breaks the kiss just long enough to groan out, “Rose,” and take a gasping breath before recapturing her lips. Her hands leave his hair and slide down his arms and underneath them, finding their way onto his back where she clutches at his ribcage.

His reason begins to desert him as one hand slides down to her thigh then under her pajama top, sliding up bare skin towards her knickers. He aches to align their bodies as he slowly starts to rock against her hip. His hand ghosts upwards across her ribcage and onto her breast.

The blare of the alarm clock breaks the moment and Rose quickly comes back to herself as reality intrudes. She stiffens under him and breaks the kiss, her hands pushing against his chest. “Stop,” she says as he squeezes her lightly, his thumb brushing her nipple. He freezes. “It’s too soon,” she says. “Please.”

He rolls off of her and she flees the bed and rushes into the bathroom. She locks the door behind her and leans against it, breathing hard. She wants him so badly and it is taking all of her self-control not to fling the door back open and return to his bed. She should have known this would happen. They never should have shared a bed. It is too soon, far too soon for this to happen. Lots of talking, lots of meeting up, but only one date between them so far and sure they’d agreed to be exclusive, but that didn’t mean she was going to just roll over for him.

Only she pretty much felt like she just had. Why did she have such an overwhelming response to this man? Why did he make her want to throw all caution to the wind and be reckless? She growls angrily at herself. “Stupid, stupid girl,” she mutters.

“Rose, I’m sorry,” Jonathon says through the door. “I didn’t mean to let it go so far. It wasn’t my intention. I’m so, so sorry.”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m okay, Jonathon,” she tells him. “It’s…it’s okay.”

“If you’d like to take a shower, there are towels under the sink,” he tells her. “I’m going to go work on breakfast.”

“Okay,” she says grateful for the reprieve. A shower is just the thing to get her hormones back under control. Or let them go completely. She only hopes he doesn’t hear the sound of her release a few minutes later when she comes.



Jonathon sits on the side of the bed for a few minutes breathing deeply and bringing himself back under control. He can’t remember ever feeling like this about a woman, not even Elisabeth. It feels like that should be a betrayal of his late wife, but there isn’t even a dull trace of guilt. He had loved Elisabeth deeply, but the kind of passion he felt for Rose had been missing in that marriage. Oh, they’d had a rewarding and fulfilling sex life, but the memory seems a shallow imitation to what he is feeling now every time he touches Rose’s skin.

He wants her so much. He’d been desperate to make love to her. Still is, he thinks ruefully as he glances down at the tented front of his pajama bottoms. He sighs. Well, he can take care of that in his own shower a bit later. He hopes he didn’t push her too far too fast. It’s obvious she wants him as much as he wants her, but she’s hung up on something, scared to move this forward.

Yes, it’s fast and maybe it is too soon, but he knows without doubt that she is it for him, that he has found the woman that will give him everything he needs and that if she’ll consent to him, he will do everything in his power to make it a beautiful and tender experience. Some time in her past someone must have treated her quite badly. She seems almost fearful about sex. He wonders vaguely if she might not still be a virgin, though at nearly twenty-two and in this day and age, he’s not entirely sure it’s possible.

He hears a soft mewling sound coming from the bathroom, recognizes the sound of self-pleasuring and smiles at the quiet sounds of Rose coming. He wishes he could have been the one to bring her to it, but is glad that her hang ups about making love aren’t so deeply entrenched that she denies herself all sexual pleasure. Unfortunately her sounds of enjoyment aren’t doing anything to make his erection go away. He rises and walks a bit awkwardly to the kitchen where he starts on a full English fry-up. Eventually it dies down as he works equations in his head.

When Rose joins him a bit later she is still in the pajama top. Her hair hangs in wet tendrils and she is very pink from the warmth of the shower. “I am sorry,” he repeats.

“Shh,” she tells him pressing a finger to his lips, a finger that he wants to suck into his mouth. “I’m as much to blame as you are. My body reacts strongly to yours. Thank you for stopping. I want you, but my mind’s not ready even if my body thinks it is.”

He smiles at her. “I told you I can wait. I might not be very good at it, but I can wait.” He can’t help himself and brings her fingers back to his lips. He sucks one into his mouth and her eyes widen. He releases it. “Really bad at it, actually,” he says with a grin.

“This smells wonderful,” she tells him, changing the subject.

“Thanks.” He dishes up a couple of plates and they have another picnic on his living room floor.

“It tastes even better than it smells,” Rose compliments him.

“So do you,” he says without thinking.

Rose goes very still then finally meets his eyes and smiles softly. She doesn’t want him to stop flirting with her. “Thank you.”

They eat quickly then and Rose helps him take care of the dishes. They return to the bedroom. “I don’t suppose you have anything that I can wear to school?” she asks him. “All I have is that dress and it’s far too short for me to wear to class.”

“I’ve got some trackie bottoms,” he says. “They’re long, but they’ve got elastic ankles and a drawstring waist, so they’d probably do. And any of my t-shirts. It’ll be fairly obvious that you’re wearing men’s clothes, though. And what about shoes? You can’t wear heels with joggers and my feet are far too large for you to borrow my trainers.” Rose sighs in frustration. “You should really keep some clothes here,” he tells her. “I’ve plenty of room in the wardrobe and I’ve still got a couple of empty drawers.”

Rose blushes at the thought of moving some of her things in. The thought excites her even though she’s still positive it’s all moving too fast. “Okay,” she says anyway. She hadn’t meant to say that.

“Oh,” Jonathon says suddenly remembering. “I have some black spandex exercise shorts. They’d probably come down to just past your knees. If you wear them under your dress they’d look like leggings. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about the dress being too short for school.”

“I don’t remember you buying any shorts,” she remarks. “I certainly wouldn’t have let you get spandex.

“No,” he laughs, “you wouldn’t have. They were in my suitcase when I drove up from Cardiff.” He rummages around in the wardrobe until he finds them and hands them to her. He tosses her a black hoodie as well. “There you are. Whole new outfit and no one will know you couldn’t go home for new clothes.”

“Thanks.” She takes his clothes, plus the bundle of hers and heads into the bathroom where she quickly changes. It surprises her how planned the final outfit looks. She combs through her damp hair and then pulls it up into a simple pony tail with a scrunchie from her purse.

“I’d like to give my Mum a quick call,” she tells him when she emerges. “Make sure she made it safely to Grandma Tyler’s.”

“Phone’s in the kitchen,” he tells her. She goes to make her call.

“Hello?” Grandma Tyler says picking up on the second ring.

“Hi, Gran, it’s Rose.”

“Oh, Rose. How are you doing? Are you safe? Is the city still on fire?” Grandma asks.

“I’m fine. I haven’t heard anything about the fire, but I’m safe where I’m at. Did Mum make it there all right?” she asks.

“Yes, love. She’s fine. She’s still sleeping though. You want me to wake her?”

“No, no. I just wanted to check in with her again. Can you tell her I’m going to stay with Jonathon until they open up the estate again? It’s closer to work and school and I just feel safer here until we know what’s going on,” she explains.

“Of course, darling.”

“Tell Mum I love her and that I’ll call her tonight after work. And I love you, too, Gran.”

“I love you, sweetheart. And I will.”

“Good-bye.”

“Bye.” Rose hangs up the phone.

“You still want to stay here? After what happened between us?” Jonathon asks her.

She looks at him like he’s daft. “Course I do. I’m not afraid of you, you know. Besides…” She stares off into space for a moment then looks back at him. “It was nice.” She blushes from head to toe but holds his gaze.

“Very nice,” he says closing the distance between them. He doesn’t touch her but his body is within inches of hers. She can’t stop herself from reaching out for him and hugging him to her. His arms wrap around her. “Are we…are we still going to be able to sleep in the same bed?” he asks her.

“I…I want to,” Rose says. “But I--.”

“I can sleep on the floor, Rose.”

“No!” she says a bit more sharply than she intended. “No,” she repeats softly. “I like sleeping in your arms.” She huffs out a breath of air and the fringe of her bangs blows up for a moment. “I, I,” she stops and starts again, “I liked what we did. And if…if that’s all that we do, touching and kissing and stuff…I’m, I’m okay with it. But not sex. I’m not ready for sex.”

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, Rose. I won’t push you. Least not on purpose. But…you may have to remind me. I think I need you to stop me when I start to go too far. And I will stop. If you ask me to.”

“I can do that,” she tells him, relief washing over her that it’s all out in the open now. She raises her face for a brief kiss and then she pushes him away. “You need a shower.”

“You saying I smell bad?” he asks with a half-smile.

“Nope. I’m saying you have a problem you need to take care of.” She glances down at the obvious bulging of his pajama bottoms.

“Want to help me?” he asks before he can stop himself.

“Maybe,” Rose says steadily, “next time.”

It’s his turn to flee the room, her soft giggle at one-upping his flirting following him all the way to the bathroom.

Ch. 13:  http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/136184.html