rosarianoath

[The whole city is experiencing a chemical spill into the water supply, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. He’s on his feet suddenly, striding to the door, where he meets her and stops so close of her that his chest nearly brushes hers. Her nightgown is thin, thin enough that he thinks he can tear it from her. He doesn’t — just barely. His gaze is intense, focused. Ifrit looms on the wall behind him.

He ignores the question.]

I should stay elsewhere tonight. I can’t hold this back.

[Jill looks up at him and there's a flicker of realization. Oh. Oh. He did mean what she thought he meant, and this close, she can feel the heat radiating from his skin, warming hers where it cools from the bath.]

... what are you afraid might happen, Clive?

[Like she doesn't know. It doesn't send her retreating to he room.]

[When she doesn’t move, he does. It’s wrong —— he knows it’s wrong —- but it feels like enough permission to put a broad palm on her chest, just over her heart, and push her firmly against the wall. His head bent to her, the tip of his nose laid against the bridge of hers, he says:]

I’ll lay you in your bed if you don’t tell me to go right now.

[He hasn't touched her so boldly in months. He hasn't crowded her space like this in longer. It doesn't hurt, being pushed against the wall, but the air is knocked out of her lungs nonetheless.

She should tell him to go. This is a terrible idea, and it shouldn't even be a thing she entertains for a second. But the bitterly selfish part of her mind simply says why not? She's slept with others and it's meant nothing. She's sure he's slept with others, too. This can just be them, scratching an itch, and that's all.

And she's misses his body. Missed how strong and solid and warm he is, over her, inside her. He's so close she wants to tip her face upwards and claim his mouth for her own. But she doesn't. There can't be any question.

There's a sureness in her voice where there should at least be some doubt.]

Don't go.

[But don't blame me if you regret this in the morning. She tells herself she won't, because she has spent far too much time wallowing in her regrets here.]

[The hesitation has his heartbeat quickening, preparing himself for the go when he’s ready to slip a knee between her thighs just to rub against her, when he could grope every inch of her just to have her. The pressure of his body against hers increases as she considers it, and by time she says don’t, he’s ready to smother her with himself.

Instead, he just takes her face in his hands and kisses her with such desperate, needy force that he’d bully her back if she wasn’t already against the wall.]

[He's never kissed her like that. It's yet another surprise, but she melts into it, fingers digging into his sides as she returns the desperation with a hunger fueled by longing.

She hasn't kissed him in so long that it makes her dizzy, and she's grateful to be essentially trapped, upright.]

[Clive grinds his hips against hers, his cock a rock hard stripe against the thin fabric of her nightgown. It’s as second nature as his mouth working hers, hot and veering sloppy, both hands still clutching her cheeks. She does want him, and he can finally be sure of it, and that makes him free to do whatever he wants. He wedges his thigh between hers, lifting her right onto the balls of her feet so she has no choice but to grind on him.]

[When was he last so hard for her? Jill moans into his mouth, months of pent up longing making her feel ready to burst. He can take her against the wall as far as she's concerned--it wouldn't be the first time he had her like that.

There's nothing under her nightgown, and she's immediately frustrated with the fact that he's dressed as she drops a hand to feel him through his trousers. He wants her. If anything comes from this, at least it's that comfort: he did desire her, at least.]

[How divine, to feel her moan on his own breath, to feel her groping for him. For a moment longer he ruts against her with no sign of stopping and then he abruptly does, dropping his hands from her and turning his head away.

But distance doesn’t last long. He stoops to lock an arm around her thighs, and with a short grunt and a little boost, he slings her over his shoulder and marches her off to her room.]

[To be wanted is one thing. To be wanted by him is another beast entirely. Jill is breathless against him, wanting more and more herself, but when he releases her it feels like she'll drown.

But then she's being hoisted up, and she breathes out something amused. Her nightgown is short enough that it's ridden up in this position, exposing her. It's like some fantasy brought to life: Clive, unworried about somehow offending her, letting instinct win. Finally. She'll gladly let herself be manhandled by him to see what awaits.]

[His grip on her is firm, the arm around her thighs ending his with hand palming the meat of her bared ass. He moves as a man on a mission, striding into her room and right to the bed, where he lays her down on her back, splays her thighs with both hands, and stands between them. He looks down at her hungrily, and he’s all there, life and fondness and adoration behind his eyes. She’s his favourite, it’ll always be her. His Jill, his jewel, the love of his life.

He could live a thousand years and still want her.

Unblinking, eyes on here, he takes the hem of her nightdress between his hands, and pulls taut to tear it hem to neckline.]

Clive!

[Whatever poetic, flowery thoughts she had while looking up at the man she still loves desperately disappear as he tears her nightgown. Fortunately, his name is said with a laugh. She has other things to sleep in.]

Really?

[He looks down at her hungrily as he yanks his own shirt off, tossing his t-shirt off over his head like even a second apart is too much.]

Should I wait to press myself to your bare skin a moment longer for the sake of a dress?

[Unlikely. He unbuckles his belt next, and then his fly, all with a hurried efficiency.]

[He's not tearing his shirt open. Jill grins, biting her bottom lip as she moves. Probably not what he wants, but as she shifts to her knees she tosses the torn nightgown aside. Her hands go to his stomach, passing over his abdomen, appreciating the muscle her fingers slide over.]

You feel like you're on fire.

[He always runs hot, but this is something else. Or maybe it's just been too long since she touched him like this.]

[Whether she's on her back or knees, he does not care, as long as she's right here in the bed he's going to fuck her in. He's near feverish for it, and as he pulls his cock out of his fly, he nods some acknowledgement of what she's said.]

I am.

[He redirects one of her hands right to his cock, leaning his face in closer to her, close enough to very nearly catch her in another kiss. The intensity to his voice grows sharper.]

Feel how hard I am for you.

[If this is a dream, she'll be happy to stay asleep until its end. He's hot and hard in her hand, and she breathes out a sigh, eyes closing as she nuzzles her nose against his.]

I've missed you.

[It's at odd with the hurt he caused, but she misses the good times. She misses the passion they once shared.

She tips her head to take a kiss for herself, softly for a heartbeat before demanding more.]

[He meets her kiss with an unrelenting energy, his hands finding her face again, holding her to him. He breaks off just to groan, his cock twitching in her hand, and he mutters against her lips:]

Tonight you can avail yourself of every inch of me.

[He presses his hips forward, into her hands.]

Leave me sore. Leave your mark on me.

[Because she tells herself this is it. This one bight of selfishness. Weakness. And then no more. He can struggle with the memory of her body as she struggles with his. Her fingers stroke him, and she's bold enough to demand what she wants.]

Make me feel how much you need me. Without a doubt.

[There is no longer any small voice at the back of his head telling him to tread cautiously, or to treat her like porcelain. Clive nods, breathing in sharply through his nose as the grip of her hand whisks away any more resistance. He stills her hand and takes her wrists together, and he orders:]

Then lay back.

[Whatever has gotten into him, she knows he's less careful. She likes the grip of his hand around her wrists, and looks him in the eyes. Lay back? An instruction, but still gentle.]

Put me where you want me, Clive.

[He knows exactly where he wants her. He gathers her wrists in one hand, his grip just wide enough to pin them both at once, and for a beat he appreciates that –– how easy it is to trap her, to keep her. The growl that slips from him next comes with a surge forward, bowling her back and pinning her hands over her head. His body follows, pinning her with his full weight with her thighs splayed on either side of him. It's a full body grind against her, nose to nose with her.]

[This is something she's wanted for as long as she can recall: him, doing as he pleases with her without hesitation. Claiming her as his own. Funny that it happens now, when she would not consider herself his any longer.

(Her heart will always be his, but she knows now what it is to be with others. This is her indulging in something forbidden while giving him the kindness of her body. Just this once. Just this last time. Just for now.)

Her thighs squeeze around him, mouth trying to find his for another kiss. It's hard to breathe with his weight pushing her into the mattress, but she loves it.]

[Her body is, as it's always been, perfect to him. Supple despite the scars, soft despite the life she's lived. Well-fed, hardy, beautiful. Maybe he's just burning up, but she feels cool under him, capable of tempering him. Taking him. He does kiss her, hungry and just a little wolfish about it. He gets his weight up on his elbow just to bolster himself up enough to reach down and line his cock up with her entrance.]

Take me as you please, Clive.

[He's so close. She can hardly move beneath him, but she tries anyway, as if she could get him inside her sooner.]

I want to feel you still once you've left my bed.

[What the lady wants, the lady gets — this time, at least. Clive bullies his way into her, capturing his mouth with hers to catch any sound she might make as the head of his cock rams all the way home. It’s harder than necessary, even a little selfish —- there has been no tenderness here, no teasing to work her up — and he sets about a brutal pace.]

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