“Jack . . . I need you Jack,” he ground out, barely, shaking his head, but pulsing longer and harder into me.
“Godyes,” I said, “please.” I groaned with sensation of what he was doing to my body as he leaned me forward to the wall.
“Hands on the wall,” he ordered.
“Fuck me, Perrin,” I pleaded, knowing he was still holding back. But, if I begged, he would give in. I was hot, by body strung tight with desire, and I still wanted more.
Perrin groaned, muttering against my skin about how he couldn’t deny me, couldn’t resist me like this. “Do you know what you look like, Jack? So damn beautiful like this, baby.”
I whimpered at his words, and at his stroke against my prostate.
Gorgeous, beautiful, sweetheart, baby- I loved all those endearments.
“Fuck me, please.Hard, Perrin.” I moaned, begging now. Sometimes Perrin could hold me there for what seemed like an eternity. But today he was as desperate as I was, and I knew I could get him to a place ofhard and fastif I kept asking.
“Do you know what you do to me when you say things like that?” He asked, raspy and deep against my skin, and I remained unable to make anything coherent other than to whimper and groan.
“Can’t ask me those things when you are like this,” he groaned. “Can’t resist you.”
“Then don’t,” I managed on shaky breath. “Want it,” I whispered, “I want it all.” I pressed into him, opening up as much as possible, enticing him to give me the full degree of what I wanted.
He pushed into me, harder, slow, and deep - so intense that I felt myself get near that desperate edge where the orgasm building inside of me seemed too big, too much, that I was almost afraid to come, because it would be too much for me to hold.
Perrin
Holy shit. Jack was so hot like this. Hair all askew, sweaty from skiing, sweaty from sex, he looked fucked-out already, and I stilldidn’t stroke his cock, notyet. Most beautiful damn man I had ever seen, much less had beneath me, moaning my name and begging me to slam myself into him harder with each stroke. So I did. His hands were against the wall, holding himself as I pushed into him, my hands digging into his hips. I went faster, and deeper, with each whimpered request for me to fuck him. I knew I would leave bruises, but I was beyond being able to help that.
Just like skiing, it knocked every other thought out of my head.
“I’m gonnacome, sweetheart,” I breathed, my words came out sweet and caressing, incongruent with the pounding I was giving him. I knew his body very damn well by now, and I knew he was right there with me. His mouth hung open in pleasure - my favorite sign that he was floating in a sea of good feelings and close to an orgasm.
I didn’t hold back, just like he asked. I grabbed his hips and the only sounds left were moans, and groans, and the sound of skin on skin. My hands went to his cock in long, strong strokes, and I couldn't make any noise other than those that came unbidden from me with the roar of my climax. If we didn’t come together, it was within the space of moments, too close to know either way. I stroked him and stroked into him past his release, setting aftershocks into minor orgasms in the wake of the first. His whole body shook with it.
Finally, he sagged against me, after he had no more to release around my hand. We stayed just like that, neither of us wanting to move. But, after a few moments, Jack was spent and limp in my arms, so I took a moment to nuzzle my favorite place on his neck. It was always warm, always smelled like Jack. His face was blissed out and completely relaxed, and the eyes that looked up at me were blue-green swirls of peace. I kissed his salty skin and brought him over to the couch.
He mumbled that he just needed a minute, but I knew better so I left him to lie there, and stepped to the bathroom to get a warm cloth to clean him up. Jack had his eyes closed when I returned to the couch, his blissed out face smoothed even his very fine laugh lines, giving me some idea of what he must have looked like at twenty-two, rather than his now thirty-three. I cleaned him up, and then pulled a quilt over his naked form. Dark hair hanging in his eyes, lips swollen from a lover’s kiss, I had to tear my eyes away from him just to go collect our clothes and then literally clean off the wall.
I was exhausted myself, but I knew it would bother Jack as soon as he came down off his orgasm high if things were in disarray, so I moved swiftly to make sure it was in order. It only took a minute or two, and then I slid down tosit onthe plush rug beside the couch, Jack’s hands immediately finding mine and tangling our fingers together. He lifted our hands to his face and kissed the back of mine lightly, resting our hands on his chest.
Slowly his eyes opened, meeting mine where my head rested above his hip and allowed the blissful high to roll through me. A loopy smile came across his face.
“Hey,” I said quietly, asking the question I always did when the sex was like that between us. “You ok, Jack?”
Every Sunday had been like this, some version of it, anyhow. And every Sunday I had asked afterward if he was okay and waited for the slow peaceful smile to come over his face and tell me he was.
His eyes were so sincere and pleased, I knew he wasn’t lying to me. “I’m good, P.”
I smiled then, moving forward enough to place a kiss on his lips, softly, and then to move the hair from his eyes and run my fingers through it. I loved how he got dreamy and blissed-out afterwards, but I did have to balance my need to hear he was okay with the need to watch him in his afterglow.
Jack sat up after a while so that my head rested in his lap, his legs on either side of me, and I ran my arms around him to hold his waist and bury my face into the side of his thigh. Initially, I may have been up and about faster than he had been, but it still took me a moment to come back to reality, too.
“So sexy, baby,” he muttered, running his hands in my hair. My curls were everywhere, and I knew it, but he always said he liked that look on me. I laughed lightly into his leg, just enjoying the smell of him surrounding me, and kissing lightly.
“What time do we have to . . .” I gestured generally with my hand. He knew what I meant.
“Come back to earth?” he laughed and I nodded. I knew he understood.
“Seven, Quinn said, and you know we will catch hell if we are late,” he mumbled, still running those fingers in my hair.
