rosarianoath

[She reaches to pass her fingers over any part of him that she can reach. She looks up at him, a frown on her face.]

I can. It's only been you, unless my own hand counts.

[But she'd think of him, anyway.]

[He doesn’t believe her. He doesn’t say it, but it’s there on his face as casts his gaze down over her wandering hands to what he’s doing: he wets his dick with their juices and returns its head to her asshole.]

[She can read him like a book. There's a sharp inhale of breath as she feels his cock, hands still roaming his skin.]

Other places. Not here. Never here.

[It's too disrespectful. ]

[He pushes in; just the head feels like an intense amount of pressure to overcome, and he’s too busy gasping to reply for a moment. He creeps in, slow, cautious. It gives him a head rush. Finally, low:]

I saw him — your lover. I spoke to him in your kitchen.

[She's glad he worked her with his fingers. He feels almost impossibly big, but the last thing she wants is for him to stop. She takes a breath, looking at him, this close to a laugh while also feeling annoyed.]

I don't know how many times I have to tell you, Clive. Dion is not my lover.

[Please, she does not want to think about the man she loves as a brother while getting fucked. It leads to an immediate memory of Clive's bruised face.]

Not Dion. [He doesn’t want to think about Dion either, albeit for different reasons. He thrusts shallowly, getting a thumb on her clit to rub slow circles on it, still bent over her. He clarifies:] The little one. The one with the mouth.

[She would moan at how he feels if she wasn't preoccupied with trying to figure out who he means. P? He would have said if he encountered Clive.

She shakes her head. Doesn't matter.]

I don't have a lover. I sleep with people because I'm lonely. Because I miss you. And I would never do it in the home you've given me, Clive.

[The pressure intensifies. He closes his eyes every time he withdraws, and with a grunt he pushes in deeper. Touching as her words are, as troubling as they are, he knows his own intuition. He has to. He insists:]

The university man.

[Luis.

When? Jill can't think of when he had a chance to meet Clive. He hasn't said anything of it. But her mind is currently occupied by Clive's cock pushing deeper into her, and she sighs, pieces fitting into place.]

What I say is still true. Not here.

[Luis has a nice enough bed at his apartment.]

[So he was right, if only about the nature of it. He’s quiet for a beat, just breathing as he fucks her, spurred on by this. Finally, he can’t resist asking:]

Is he a better lover?

[What an awful, sad question. Jill reaches for his face, needing to hold him because her heart suddenly aches too much despite the pleasure she feels. Despite the petty part of her that still feels scorned that he ruined them.]

Don't ask me that and I won't ask if you've had better than me.

[She's sure he has. People with more experience. People with more passion.

She's only ever tried her best.]

[He’s so keyed up, horny and heartaching and possessive, that the statement drags out an immediate answer even if she doesn’t want it.]

I don’t love them.

[He lets the weight of his cheek settle in her hand and his thrusts grow slower again. He needs to be honest as much as he needs to come again. Eyes dead on hers:]

I love you.

Then why are you making me suffer so?

[It's not like they haven't been over it a hundred times. But it's harder to swallow when he's buried inside her. Her thumb strokes his cheek, over scars and scruff.]

I only want you.

Why am I—-?

[There’s a thread of frustration there. It’s with everything, himself and all of circumstance. Maybe even a bit with her, too. She’s so tender with him, even when he’s been brusque. Distant.]

Please. Just let me do what I can for us.

[Right now, that’s an orgasm.]

[Her hand slips to the side of his neck, gentle and tender as ever as she looks into his eyes.]

I never loved you for what you could do. Don't you know that? It was always just you. Broken or whole, Clive.

I know. You’ve said so.

[It plays over and over in his mind, a steady beat of regret and poor judgment, and he stills in her completely, halfway in. Long exhale. What to do next? Continue?]

Do you believe it?

[If he's going to stop moving, she's going to try and coax him down to kiss her.]

I do. [He’s reluctant to indulge himself, even if it would please her. He’s missed this for months, but he won’t gorge himself. Still, he bends his head down to her.] I just think you deserve better than broken.

[A beat.]

All I can do is please you in bed.

[She leans up a little to meet him, the shift of their bodies causing her to hum softly. The kiss is soft, but no less hungry, tongue demanding he part his lips.]

Have I not been broken without you?

[Broken... but strong, at least until tonight.]

I know, sweetheart. I know.

[The endearment is thoughtless, uninhibited. He lets her kiss him. He opens his mouth to her, kisses her like it could wring some measure of joy from either of their lives. He rocks his hips to her again, gentler. It’s the only restraint he can manage.]

[The whimper into his mouth could be from the movement or the endearment or both. He's a good man. He loves her. She loves him. But there's a wall she can't get past.

She sighs again, holding onto him.]

Use me. I want you to take your pleasure, Clive. Come inside me again, please. Once more.

[Before they should probably put an end to this.]

[Use her? He can’t deny that’s what he’s done tonight, but to have it laid bare stings.

But what the lady wants…

He nods, a terse little bob of his heads close to hers, and he picks up the pace as he resumes kissing her.]

[She kisses him as hard as she dares without fearing blood drawn from a tooth against a lip or tongue. She loves him, desperately. She needs him and he needs her and they both know it. That's what burns the most.]

I love you.

[A tiny gasp of words, but worth saying. She suspects they might not speak much after this night.]

[The words sink deep, and he’s coming in her before long, moaning directly into her mouth as he does. He loves her. He loves her. He loves her so much he wants to crush her into something tiny that he can keep on his person and protect jealously, and even coming in her now, he will not be able to keep her from men who could love her kinder and more openly than he does. ]

[It's a decidedly different sensation, him coming in her ass, but she's busy kissing him. Loving him. Hands in his hair and on his neck and his shoulders and mouth sealed to his.

She doesn't want to part in any way. Being apart has only ever been a mistake--doesn't he see that?]

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