A Sky Without Zeppelins: Chapter Forty-Seven

[amberfocus]

                                                                                                                          banner by Mitashade

A/N:  Not a work safe or child friendly chapter.  Warning:  Consensual teasing bondage and some dominant sex.

Chapter Forty-Seven

 

 

“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” he says tugging lightly at his tied wrists. She’s done a good job with the knots but he could get out if he really wanted to.

 

Rose grins at him. “Oh, I’m quite sure of that.” She leans down and kisses him again, this time tenderly. She sits back up again and hesitates, uncertainty washing over her face. “This is okay, right?” She bites her lip.

 

“Of course it is. I don’t always have to be in charge,” he says softly. If he could he’d stroke the side of her face in reassurance.

 

“But you like being in control,” she says, still second-guessing her actions.

 

“Very much. Though we all know it’s him who’s in charge when it comes to you.” Jonathon bucks up behind her and his rock hard penis pushes against her bum and she laughs. “I don’t mind at all. I’m actually quite happy you’ve grown comfortable enough with your sexuality to want to do this. You didn’t used to be so bold.”

 

“Mmm,” she says. She takes a deep breath and reaches down. Rose pulls the tie from around his throat and trails the end across the side of his face. “Do you trust me?” she asks.

 

“With my life.” She tilts his head upwards and runs the tie around the back of it. Gently she knots it in place over his eyes.

 

“Can you see?” she asks.

 

“No,” he murmurs. She leans down, barely brushing her lips across his, and he can feel the smile on them. She lifts up and positions him at her entrance, sliding down on him in one quick movement. He gasps as his pelvis meets hers and he’s fully within her. She sits still and silent for a long moment then very firmly she twitches her inner walls. He nearly rockets off the bed. Her laugh is low and throaty and then she is rising off of him. He makes a sound of protest but she doesn’t return to him.

 

Instead she climbs off him entirely and he feels a bit abandoned until he feels something soft and wispy floating across his chest. It tickles a bit, but more than that, it invokes desire within him that is almost violent as it surges through his blood. The sensation moves across his neck and up onto his face, to brush over his lips and then back down again. “What is that?” he asks but Rose doesn’t answer him.

 

The feather touch moves down to his groin, tickling across the head of his penis. It jerks upwards at the sensation and as it moves down his shaft onto his balls and inner thighs he whimpers in pleasure. Whatever she’s doing to him is going to drive him insane if she keeps it up. He hopes she keeps it up.

 

She does. The light dusting of whatever it is against his skin slides down his body, across his legs and onto his feet. She lifts his right foot with one hand and tickles the bottom with the gossamer object, then repeats it on the other side. By the time she puts his foot down he is squirming with desire.

 

The object disappears and is replaced instead with her lips on the inside of his ankle. She kisses up his leg and settles her body between them. He thinks for a moment that she’s going to take him in her mouth again but she doesn’t. She doesn’t touch him at all. Instead he feels a gentle, warm breeze gliding across his skin and realizes she’s blowing on him. He can feel the curls moving in the little wind and his balls tighten against his body.

 

He senses her mouth just inches from his penis and he wants desperately to get back inside it. “Rose,” he says. “Please.”

 

“Patience,” she says softly and blows on him again. He didn’t think it was possible to get any harder than he is, but he does. He feels her moving away from him, feels the bed move as she gets up.

 

“Rose.”

 

“Hush. I’ll be back.” The wait until she returns is interminable. He can tell she’s in the room by her breathing but not where she is. Before he can ask again he feels something very cold against his nipple and yelps.

 

“Rose!”

 

She giggles. “Too much?” she asks pulling it away.

 

“No,” he pants. “Ice?” Again, she doesn’t answer him. He begins concocting ideas in his head for what he’s going to do to her when the tables are turned.

 

“If the tables get turned,” she says and he realizes he’s spoken aloud.

 

“Oh, they will,” he promises.

 

She laughs and the sharp cold returns, this time on his other nipple. He can’t help himself. He cries out again. This time he feels her body returning to the bed and then her warm mouth is carefully licking heat back into his frozen nipple. She pulls away again and he hears ice clanking in a glass and when she makes no move to touch him again he figures she’s put it back.

 

She remains motionless beside him, not touching him for a full minute – he counts – before he senses her movement again. She leans down, the silky strands of her hair falling onto his thighs as she quickly takes him as far into her mouth as she can. He bellows. “You minx!” he says when he can speak. She’d obviously spent that minute sucking on the ice. Her entire mouth and her tongue are freezing cold.

 

She’s off him again before her mouth or his shaft have a chance to warm up, but then he feels her straddling him and she sinks down on him. She shivers. “Ooooooh, cold,” she says.

 

“No kidding,” he grumbles good-naturedly, “but I’m warming up fast.”

 

She rocks forward and then back down onto him and sits still again. “Rooooose,” he complains. In response she tightens her muscles around him. Then she stops. “When I get you in my position, you are going to be aching with need before I take you.”

 

She rotates her hips in a figure eight. “Promise?” she asks. She leans forward and licks his nipple then moves up a bit more so that only his tip remains inside her and she suckles at the side of his neck, her teeth grazing his pulse point, her tongue dancing on the little fluttery movement before quickly moving backwards and taking him into her body again.

 

He makes a noise that sounds like, “Heyim,” but is not a word in any language he knows. She rises again and lowers herself and again and again and it seems that she is done playing with him now. He’s relieved and disappointed at the same time. Relieved because he wants nothing more than what she is doing, but disappointed because despite his complaints he was enjoying the teasing torture.

 

He’s been aching to come since he had her on the dance floor earlier and her slow, steady pace means it still won’t be happening any time soon. He feels her adjust her angle so that each stroke presses against her clit as she grinds against him. He abandons all conscious thought then and gets lost in the sensation as her gliding, unfaltering rhythm continues. He doesn’t know how much time passes before she comes around him, her movements shuddering to a halt as her slick walls grip at him.

 

He’s close, but not close enough, and not even her spasms can set him off. When she rises off him he cries out in frustration, his body jerking upwards in search of her warmth. He can’t even manage to say her name. She can’t leave him like this. She wouldn’t do that to him. Rose isn’t a cruel woman. He hears the tearing of foil and realizes with relief why she has stopped. He hadn’t even stopped to think about the fact that she’d not put a condom on him before she’d taken him into her body.

 

Before she rolls it on she takes him into her mouth again then runs her tongue down around his base and over his balls. When she is finished she slips the condom down over his aching shaft. She leans up to kiss him and he can taste her fluids and his own pre-come on her tongue and lips. She allows him to ravish her mouth, his kiss telling her how hungry he is for this to continue.

 

He feels her pulling at his bindings and suddenly one wrist springs free. The second follows soon after and he is tearing off his makeshift blindfold. Rose is looking at him with a gleam in her eyes. "Take me," she says.  It's all the invitation he needs. He overbalances her and rolls her onto her stomach so that she is flat on the bed. He moves between her legs, his hands and knees pushing her thighs apart. He lines himself up at her entrance and pushes in hard. Rose cries out, a hissing, “Yessssss,” of pleasure falling from her lips. He lets most of his weight rest on her body, not quite crushing her against the bed, but conveying to her in no uncertain terms that she isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. His hands grip her wrists, holding them tight to the bed.

 

“You ready?” he murmurs, his breath hot against her ear.

 

“Oh, yes.” She nods and her body goes pliant and unresisting beneath him. His mouth finds her shoulder and though he doesn’t bite down there is definitely a hint of teeth against her skin. She pushes back against him and he pulls back then plows into her. The pace he sets is just this side of punishing. He doesn’t want to hurt her, he just wants to own her, if only for these brief minutes while he plunges into her body.

 

Rose’s hands are fisting in the bed sheets and he can hear her panting, feel her panting, as she lies beneath him. She is crying out his name and telling him how much she loves him, crying out to God, and then her words dissolve into inarticulate babbling as he continues his rapid thrusts. He is close, so close and his body is begging for him to continue but suddenly he needs to see her face while she comes, while he comes inside her. He stops and she swears in frustration as he scrambles off her and pushes her onto her back. “Please,” she says, “please, I need you.”

 

He loops her knees over his elbows and pulls her to him, pushing forcefully back inside her. Rose cries out and her hands come up to grip at his forearms. Beads of sweat have broken out on her forehead and she bucks impatiently up at him. “Please,” she says again.

 

“I want to see your eyes when you come,” he tells her and her amber orbs widen but she nods and keeps her gaze locked with his as he begins again. He’s desperate now and he takes her fast and hard and her eyes never leave his. He drives into her, each plunge, each thrust a reminder of just how much he needs her. His frustration begins to grow as his orgasm remains elusive and she looks at him with a slightly worried expression on her face as his expression contorts.

 

“Jonathon?” she asks. He lets her legs fall down to the bed and gathers her closer to his body, his arms wrapping around her back and clasping her shoulders from behind. He slows his pace, but each thrust is just as forceful as before. She manages to raise one hand to his hair and she strokes across his temple.

 

Her love for him rushes inside him and releases something and he snaps, his orgasm coming in a whirl of overwhelming pleasure and madness and he rises up just enough to see her face as she shatters. They come together in a roaring fire of emotion and sensation and it almost hurts as he empties himself into her again and again. He lays there spent and Rose accepts his weight, uncomplaining. It is taking him much longer than usual to soften but he finally begins to and that’s when he takes action, releasing her body and withdrawing so that his seed doesn’t spill from the condom.

 

He quickly cleans himself up before turning back to Rose. Her eyes are closed and she’s turned toward him and he pulls her into his body. “You all right?” he asks. “I’m afraid I got a bit out of control there at the end.”

 

“’m fine,” she mumbles indistinctly. Her arm snakes around his waist and she presses her lips into his chest. She wrinkles her nose. “Sweaty.”

 

“Join me in a shower?”

 

“Can’t walk.” She sighs in contentment and snuggles in even closer despite the sweatiness, so it must not bother her too much. She wiggles one of her legs between his. “Love you.”

 

He strokes her hair. “You sure I didn’t hurt you?” he asks.

 

“I’m sure,” she says, this time her voice a bit clearer. “Wanted it like that. Wound you up on purpose.” He laughs in relief and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

 

A few minutes later she opens one eye and looks at him. He’s staring at her lovingly, marveling at the magnificent woman in his arms. “You really going to tie me up some time?” she asks him.

 

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to.”

 

“I…this was fun, but I was in charge, you know? I don’t…”

 

“The minute you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he says. “It’s fun when it’s a game, but I never want to scare you.”

 

“Okay then. But not for a while. Let me get used to the idea.”

 

“Okay.” She closes her eyes and snuggles her head back into his chest. “But Rose?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You don’t have to wait if you want to tie me up again.”

 

“It was worth it?” she asks with a grin he can feel against his skin.

 

“Definitely.”

 

 

 

Rose groans when she wakes up the next morning. Every muscle in her lower body is sore and her wrists ache a bit from where Jonathon held her down during their lovemaking. She rubs at them checking for bruises or redness but there isn’t any. She rotates them around and decides they are just a bit stiff.

 

Jonathon has moved away from her in the night and he’s sprawled on his stomach, face turned towards her, mouth open and he’s snoring the sleep of the blissfully shagged. She giggles then covers her mouth as he stirs a bit. She doesn’t want to wake him. She has so few opportunities to watch him sleep as he’s usually awake and staring at her whenever she opens her eyes. She yearns to reach out and touch him but a more pressing need has her stumbling erratically for the loo.

 

Her legs are barely working and she has no idea how she’s going to help move Sarah out of her new flat today. Fortunately Sarah doesn’t have that much stuff and has been slowly moving her things to Elliot’s over the course of the last several weeks. Still there is a bit of heavy furniture to move and several boxes and Rose did promise they’d help in exchange for use of Elliot’s truck and Elliot to help her move her own things.

 

While in the bathroom she brushes through her hair and brushes her teeth and then slips back into the bedroom and into bed with her lover. She glances at the clock. It’s still pretty early. On a normal day she’d wake him with kisses and tempt him into making love. Well, tempt isn’t really the right word. It doesn’t take much more than saying, “Do you want to—?” before he’d be on her. Sometimes all it takes is a look. Usually it is his suggestion.

 

She is far too sore to make love again. She loved his aggressive taking of her the night before, but it has left her achy inside in a pleasant but worn out way. She smiles at him as his eyes begin to flutter. He is such an amazingly gorgeous man. His eyes blink open and he catches her watching him and a slow, pleased smile crosses his face.

 

“Morning,” he says in a rumbling voice.

 

“Good morning, sleepy-head,” she says.

 

“Come here,” he says softly and she moves to him. He kisses her softly, his tongue taking little dips into her mouth as his arms pull her close. When he lets her go he grins at her a little stupidly before heading off into the bathroom.

 

When he returns he asks her, “How are you this morning?”

 

“Sore,” she says, “but it’s a good kind of sore.”

 

“Um hmm,” he says.

 

“Too sore to make love,” she tells him regretfully.

 

He gives her a soft smile. “You know, I think for the first time since I’ve met you, I feel sated. Last night was amazing.”

 

“Yeah.” She shifts on the bed, wincing slightly and when a proud grin crosses his face she throws a pillow at him. He catches it neatly and puts it on the bed.

 

“Shower?” he asks her.

 

She nods. “So long as that’s all we do.” Despite his speech about being sated she can see that he’s got an erection, though not as full of one as usual.

 

“Too tired to do much more,” he says. He’s pretty true to his words, his fingers roaming a bit with the soap but mostly just to worship her breasts and squeeze her bum. Her clit and folds are still far too sensitive and after one or two exploratory swipes he leaves that part of her alone. She stands behind him, her body pressed to his, her hand wrapped around his shaft, his hand over hers and gently strokes him until he comes. He cleans up and turns to kiss her, and then they take turns washing each other’s hair and finally emerge clean and fresh.

 

They reluctantly get dressed in jeans and t-shirts then wander into the kitchen to make breakfast. They’ve developed a rhythm over the last several weeks and shortly have eggs and toast and fried potatoes sitting on the table before them. They eat quickly and then Rose hurries off to blow dry her hair.

 

Jonathon sits on the edge of the bathtub and just watches her. It’s a habit they’ve gotten into. He likes the way her body wiggles as she moves the dryer about her head and he loves the way her golden strands glisten in the light. When she finishes she picks up a hair scrunchy. He stands up suddenly and snatches it from her hands and she startles. “What?”

 

He looks at it then up at her then down at it again. The feathers in the band are incredibly soft as he runs them over his skin. “Is this what you used on me last night?” he asks her.

 

Rose giggles. “Yeah. Did you like it?”

 

“You know I did.” She takes the elastic back from him and pulls her hair into a pony tail, quickly flipping the fancy band around it.

“You know I’m going to look at that all day and be thinking about what we did.”

 

She smiles mischievously at him. “I know. I’m counting on it.”

 

“Not fair if you’re too sore to do anything about it tonight,” he says.

 

Her grin gets even wider. “My mouth still works,” she tells him and just to prove it kisses him deeply. He staggers a bit when she lets him go. She slaps him on the bum and quickly exits the bathroom.

 

“You’re getting cheeky!” he tells her.

 

“Learned it from the best. Come on, love,” she says. “We have work to do.”

 

“Rose Tyler, you’re going to be the death of me.”

 

“Nope. I’m going to be your life.”

 

“You already are.”

 

That earns him another, even more detailed kiss and his hands creep up under her t-shirt to gently caress her breasts above the smooth cotton of her bra. She leans into his touch and wishes that she weren’t so sore because arousal is flooding through her system once again. Reluctantly she breaks it.

 

“Seriously, we need to go.”

 

With an equally reluctant pout he removes his hands from under her top. “I know, I know,” he says, “but this is so much fun.” She gives him a gentle push. “Let me go check on the baby alien before we go.”

 

Rose trails him into the spare bedroom where over the last little while they’ve been making a nest of sorts for the little creature. The baby rests in the middle of a tray on a thick cushion of absorbent padding. A greenish-blue nutrient fluid that Caelum produced for her soaks it. Since they began using it the alien has taken on the consistently warm tone of a ripe peach. The lights are muted and soft, sweet music is playing from a little stereo on a nearby shelf.

 

Jonathon reaches out to touch her and she makes a slight humming sound. Rose grins and strokes a finger along the top, too, and the hum intensifies. “She’s starting to really differentiate between us now,” Jonathon says. “She’s happy to see you. She says hello.”

 

“Tell her I said good morning.” Jonathon concentrates and then nods at Rose. He turns back to the creature and stares at it for a couple of minutes before releasing it. “She’s doing well. She likes the new music.”

 

He reaches out for Rose’s hand and laces their fingers together. “We can go now. She’s happy.”

 

She follows him through the flat and retrieves her keys and purse on the way out the door and they make their way through the busy London streets the few short blocks to Rose’s new flat where Sarah and Elliot are waiting for them.

Ch. 48:  http://amberfocus.livejournal.com/264160.html