Title: Off The Cuff
Author: Lady-T
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: L/J
Summary: Tenderness, togetherness, loneliness, lust, love... -Glimpses in the moments between unwilling absence
Genre: Ostensibly PWP but there's a little touch of theme
Feedback: Feed the monkey?
Archive: I'd be flattered if you asked... or even just told me you were taking it...
Disclaimer: Property of whoever, whatever, wherever, whenever. Pretty much everyone except me then, really.
Notes: It started out as a way to use up abandoned smutlets and all the bits that didn't fit anywhere else, but the disjointed parts seemed to fit quite well and then they formed some kind of context...

Off The Cuff

(The First Time -)
She said...

He's been away too long and I know that he hates it.

You look at him and you see what you want to see. A hero. A murderer. A soldier. A teacher. A legend all his own. A thousand things to different people. But after everything... he's just a man. The responses he gives are that of a man, the feeling of him under my palms is of flesh and blood, the sounds in his throat are human, vulnerable, passionate. At the tender mercies of hands and lips and tongue, salt-dusted skin flexing in desperate quirks as I pause to suck on a smooth, hairless patch above his hip.

Just a man, eyes closed, head arched back as he huffs and pants, whimpers as a rough, hot tongue makes a twisting circle around his left nipple. And God, what that does to me, reducing him to this. Chasing away his armour and revealing the softened underbelly that sometimes feels like the only true proof of his vulnerability. So my lips trail over his stomach, pushing my tongue firmly into his belly button, the wet, warm, slick feeling shooting anticipation directly into his cock.

He moans, a sound halfway between a whimper and a plea, his heels digging into the sheets as he squirms. I love that I can do this to him. Ride out the need until it burns, make him lose the control he so savagely clings onto. Reduce him to a pitiful, mewling creature, nothing but a man chasing desperate sensation that is always just a little behind release.

Because he turns my world to fire in exactly the same way, when he bends me over the table and presses my hands to the small of my back. When he fucks me and, leaning forward, his breath searing hot against my ear, asks me if I want it fast or slow. Because it's always the same; if I somehow choke out slow he can make it feel like fucking hours. Eternity on the crest of release until it's almost painful how much I want to come, until I'm nothing but fire and screaming, sobbing for mercy and the lightening rush of release that I know will never come until he lets it.

But if I learn to scream for fast... to beg for fast, pleading for more from the first moment his cock fills me... The more I beg for speed the slower he gets, just to spite me. The slower he gets just to drag out the crest of the wave, a fraction beyond my reach until he decides that it's time.

That's the moment I live for. When he pushes me over. When the thrust of his hips becomes brutal in exquisite torture, when he fucks me so hard I feel the whole universe shift, when he jerks and his spine arches, the length of him rammed as deep into me as it can ever go... When there is nothing left but smoke, and fire, and orgasm...

That's what he does to me. What I do to him. Swallowing his dick like a red-hot sucker, all pressure and the scrape of teeth, you can see his muscles shake as he fights the need to thrust, lips drawn back in a grimace of ecstasy.

Just a man. Surrendered to me as the lick and suck brings forth a rolling, babbling flood of emotion to his lips, thoughts that only pour forth when his armour is ripped away and he doesn't have to be the dominant one, the quiet one, the strong one. When he can be just a man. When he's allowed to be weak, pushed beyond reason and thought into blind, overwhelming sensation. He cries out, almost a pleading sob as my tongue makes sandpaper tracks around and around on his swollen, stiff cock before I pull back again, prolonging the agony as he grits his teeth. His fingers curl in the sheets, gripping with white-knuckle force as he resists the urge to grab hold of himself. Resists the temptation to end his suffering, fucking his hand for the few seconds he would need as he resists physical gratification for the sake of the relief he finds in being temporarily laid bare.

I take my glimpse of his weakness, his vulnerability, his humanity, then lower my head and suck him back into my mouth. Denied release becomes physical agony and he screams, seizing up completely before he comes with overwhelming force, my head jerking back just in time as hot semen splatters over his stomach and thighs. His neck arches hard back as every muscle in his body radiates tension.
He makes little jerked grunts, each in time with the aftershocks that pulse through his body before he sinks into the embrace of the mattress with a deflated rush of air.

His eyes are still closed and his breathing still heavy, limp and sated as he lets himself sprawl over the sheets seemingly unaffected by the cooling liquid that forms drips on his belly. He moans heavily, prying his eyelids open with apparent difficulty before giving up and closing them again, an exhausted sigh escaping him as I smile.

Yes, he's definitely just a man, exactly like any other. But at the same time, he's like no one else at all.
He slowly rolls over onto his side, his cheek nuzzling into the soft feel of the pillow as he huffs in exhausted contentment. He is either unaware or unperturbed by the sticky mess he's making on the bed as the fluid on his stomach rubs off on the blanket. His eyes are still closed and he looks like he's about to fall asleep. Sated and content and very distinctly finished.

I curl myself around his naked shoulders, letting his head rest pillowed on my breast as he drifts inexorably into slumber, soft and warm and comforting in my arms. He has to leave again in the morning after only one night at home, and underneath his devil-may-care acceptance the little scratch on his surface says that he desperately wishes he didn't have to go.

(The Fourth Time -)
He said...

There is tenderness in her. Visible as she looks at me tonight, stripping the sheets from my half-slumbering body, wanting heat as she peels away the T-shirt she's wearing. The one that she stole from my things. The one she likes to sleep in.

She smiles, an enigmatic twitch of her lips before she lies on top of me like a blanket, stretched the full length of my body, naked skin on skin. She is so warm, I could drown in the feel of her as I wrap heavy, tired arms around her back and hold her close. For the moment I am content to just breathe in the scent of the night time and her body, combined and warmed and she lays her head down on my shoulder, light fingers creeping softly up my jaw.

She tells me how she misses me on the nights when I can't be here. When I leave on an endless, stupid job that keeps me away from her, week after week.

It makes my throat feel tight, holding her a little closer, feeling just a little too needy before she smiles and kisses me, lightly, whispering how glad she is that the world can manage without me right now. Even if it is only for tonight.

There is heat in her. Growing warmth as hands begin to wander. Exhaustion fades away to the background and long-anticipated sleep can wait, because she's here in my arms and she's smiling at me. Her skin under my hands feels like nothing else on earth, just because it's her, and she leans her head down, stealing playful butterfly kisses as she cradles my head in her soft palms.

She whispers words I don't hear, stroking my cheek with her thumb before her lips finally come to rest on mine, the first real kiss in forever, and she tastes exactly like I remembered. The feeling makes my eyes slip shut and she lets her legs fall to either side of me, pulling herself back just far enough for her to favour each of my nipples with a soft kiss and a lick. The flash of her tongue draws a slight gasp to my lips and she rocks slowly against my abdomen, feeling the partially hardened swell of my erection brush lightly between her legs.

There is wickedness in her. Teasing with her eyes as she straightens up to rest on her knees, trapping my body beneath her heat and she is so beautiful just then. So perfect. My hands slide down her back, landing on the swell of round hips and she twirls a forefinger in circles on my stomach, taunting, waiting for me to squirm before she brushes her palm lower. She rocks gently, as much for her own pleasure as mine, the damp heat building between us growing warmer as she traces the contours of my chest, mapping them. Committing them to memory with touch and sight and then taste.

Her lips are soft as always, her tongue still sweetly rough, and it all feels so perfect as I twist her hair round my fingers. She is everything to me. On nights like this when I feel like I've been away forever, it's how she reminds me who I am; how lucky I am. She makes me feel loved. Necessary. Wanted. Yet just my pure physical need for her is enough to force my flesh to a hardness I can barely even stand.

She knows it. Hums her appreciation, holding my cock gently with tender fingers before she guides me between her legs and lets me slide, finally, sinking into the blissful depth of her sex. Dear God, it is both the sweetest kind of heaven and the worst kind of torment, eyes slipping closed as she presses her weight slowly against the span of my hips.

There is sensuality in her. The feel of her body against mine. The glide of skin and the soft brush of hair as she leans forward. Tiny sounds, the lightest shiver, the feel of slipping into something so close to paradise it's unbearable as she slowly rocks above me.

Firm flesh, heat, the light scent of fresh sweat and she bites her lip, small moans escaping before she sighs. Astride me, knees cradling my hips, naked and flushed, she pants as she pushes a hand back through loose hair as she moves. She sweeps free strands off her face before she leans forward and they fall again, slightly damp now, sweet-smelling.

I am inside her, consumed by her, hypnotised as she parts lips I desperately want to taste. My hands tighten against her hips, grinding her body down harder, forcing myself deeper and she keens at the rigid insistence of my hardness crushing further inside the tight, grasping heat of her body.

She breathes my name, bearing down with determination and she throws her head back, pale neck arched in rapture as she pleasures herself with my form. My name on her lips... God... and they may as well be the same thing because she is everything to me, breath catching in my lungs as she rocks with steady, insistent thrusts. I want her, need her, crave her like air. She makes me scream with her proximity, the roll of her hips against my pelvis, the scent of her desire burning us to ashes.

She moans above me, grasping at release and falling just short and she pleads, hands clutching alternately at my chest then back into her hair. She gasps slowly as she moves, narrowing my world down to her, just her, and the pleasure she could take from me. I've missed her. I've missed her so much...

There is vulnerability in her. Sweet and warm as I roll us over. The added weight as I push us hard together forces a shudder from her body and she wraps her legs around mine, binding us tightly in a desperate knot of limbs.

Close... so close to her, crowding intensity, one hand wrapped possessively around her hip, the other forearm denting the pillow by her ear. So close, nose brushing her cheek, foreheads almost touching with every movement of my body, every thrust of my hips now, and it seems to slide my flesh the full length of her each time. I can taste her she's so close, mingled breath, hers and my own, panting soft huffs of air with each rolling beat of our need. I can feel her, the strain on her features as she cinches her eyes closed, the damp of her skin as she wraps herself around me.

Fingers tangle in my hair, tugging sharply, a flash of something and then she's kissing me, a breathless grunt of desire escaping her before she is silenced by the hungry sweep of my tongue. It stops all sound, fills my senses with her, everything about her, and she gasps for air as I plunge just a little deeper, tasting her with the same roll and fuck of my hips.

There is strength in her. Hot and demanding and she whimpers again, one fist tightening against my skull as she reaches down with the other hand, gripping my backside with the same force, trying to drive me harder. And God, I could never be accused of leaving her wanting, not for anything I can give, and my lips seal back over her pleading mouth as I surrender everything I have to this moment. Aching heat has pooled too strong between my legs and I drive her deep and fierce, swallowing her keening pleas like water in the desert.

I release her lips only to stretch back and force out her name like a benediction. I would worship her forever if I could, and I bury my face in the curve of her throat as the fire in my pelvis consumes me. Hard, jerked flurries of skin and flesh and her body seizes beneath mine, shattering her passion as mutual climax turns the night into nothing but white hot fire and screaming, teeth clenched hard with the intensity of release, clinging tightly, sweating, exhausted...

Her body is still fluttering with aftershocks and I take her lips again, biting softly at the lower one before flicking it with my tongue. She just moans, incoherent, clinging on too tightly as she pants. She whines in objection as I try to free myself from between her thighs, wrapping her legs around me tighter in response, locking us together. So I stay there.

There is the very Devil in her. And even hot and wet and exhausted, I will never stop wanting her.

(The Eighth Time -)
In wanting...

He is intense tonight. Naked and darkly erotic as he leans close to her as she dozes, nearly asleep but not quite, and her eyes flutter open in surprise at his presence. He strips the sheet away from her bare skin before she can speak, tasting her breath on his tongue with an almost-kiss that blushes faintly across her lips before it is gone again.

The look on his face is one she can't identify; Part tender, part savage, and a little piece that's unreadable flashing sharply through his eyes as his warm, dry hand skims slowly up her ribs. She wants to kiss him, his lips slightly parted as he stares at her with unashamed hunger but she feels pinned by his scrutiny, a slowly yearning ache setting up in her body as his touch drags lazily down her stomach.

His return is unexpected and his departure will be swift, and he hates how it comes down to this. That the fates force him away, finding her tonight in the middle of their bed as if he no longer even sleeps there, and it hurts him. It burns like acid that he is limited to stealing short memories with her when he can snatch a breath between travels, even now when he should be elsewhere. A life limited to unsanctioned trysts that barely even colour his forced solitudes because he needs her so badly it's like suffocation when she's gone. He craves her, screaming need pounding in his ears while pathetic hurt echoes inside him, every fibre of his being drawing him back to her whenever it can. Possessive touches caress the juncture of her thighs and he wonders if she's ever once needed him with the same agonising desperation.

She separates her legs a little for him instinctually, gratitude and surprise lighting her sleepy face as she feels him press the length of his body against her side, trapping her gaze and locking it with his own. She is mesmerised by him, cruelly masculine beauty hypnotising her as probing fingers part her flesh, skimming over the warm seam between her thighs and idly flicking her clitoris before pushing two fingers solidly into her depths with one demanding and achingly sure press of his hand.

He has to make her see, he thinks. Has to show her how badly he burns inside...

She is not ready and she arches, tensing with a short gasp as he plunges his touch deep, forcing his fingers inside her and dragging them lazily against the tight walls of her core as she lies trapped beneath his intense, inescapable presence. His heart feels like wants to burst, thundering behind his ribs at the feel of her scorching around his fingers. Every muscle in his body aches with the need to just crawl inside her and lose himself.

The initial thrust is for a moment rough, callused skin pushing carelessly into tender, fragile flesh and she hisses, writhing at the pulling friction as her body fights to lubricate the intrusive, rough working of her sex. He plays her with a mercilessly firm hand, fingers buried up to the very last knuckle, squirming unbearably deep and caressing her passage with proprietary confidence as her sparked arousal begins to ease his invasion, slicking his demanding fingers with thick, sweet fluid.

She is too hot underneath him, she thinks, suddenly burning with the closeness of his body and the intensity of his heat. Naked skin encases her in a sweltering cocoon of gloriously solid flesh and she is consumed. Inside and out he is overwhelming, thickly insistent touch pumping hard into the pouted opening between her legs and his caress is unrelenting. Like an itch she desperately wants to scratch, those fingers scissor inside her, stretching intimate muscle with the wet, smooth pressure of damp skin, his pace quick and certain and decisive as she squirms.

A moan escapes parted lips as his hand becomes soaked, saturated in the evidence of her growing need as it escapes around his knuckles, the wet sound of him slicking in and out echoing impossibly loud in the silence of the night. The hard weight of his engorged penis burns heavily against her thigh, blood-hot and eager and she voices her wanting but he denies. Two fingers become a tight, over-full three and she clutches at gasping breath as the heel of his palm crushes mercilessly over the eager bud of nerves hidden in the satin folds of her core. It is like pitiless torment, grinding tiny circles over her clitoris with increasing pressure as he stretches her wide and she clutches desperately at his body, fingernails digging crescent moons into the broad curl of his shoulders.

He pauses, stills, watches the reactions flutter over her features and sees the hot glow colouring her breasts. She is beautiful. Lost. Aching... So close he can feel her wetness brushing against his thigh as he works her just a little harder, lazily sucking a hot pink nipple into the cavern of his mouth. Her body arcs and tenses, the scrape of teeth biting hard before he soothes it with deep, sandpaper licks, the constant thrust between her legs nearly making her cry in desperation.

It burns inside her, smouldering almost painfully with the need to come, the need to feel his hotly pressing cock fill the very depths of her body, full and strong and powerful. The digits inside her twist and she moans silently, the flat pads of long fingers pressing deep into the front wall of her channel. She feels every muscle in her body tense at the caress, so close it almost hurts and she pleads his name, begging over and again with every whimpering gasp for satiation.

He is cruel tonight, sliding his soaked, coated fingers free and she almost sobs at the loss, her body throbbing and clenching desperately around nothing as his fluid-coated hand glistens mockingly in the half-light. He paints wet stripes of her own arousal in thick swathes across each nipple, fastening his mouth around each hard, puckered bud in turn to lick and suck her flesh until it's clean and she cries out in almost mindless need. He growls, makes her watch as he sucks his fingers dry, savouring the flavour of her sex before blowing cold air over wet skin, flesh still glistening with saliva.

She is pathetic, she knows it, pleading for his mercy as her core pounds heavily in time with her racing heartbeat. She needs him, more than she's ever known before, body on fire with the screaming, desperate ache that consumes her. Pink nipples strain at the sharp cold, bullet-hard and painfully tender before he flicks each with a skim of fingernail and she gasps, the sensation shooting through her nerves with brutal force.

She swears quietly with desperation as he fondles her breasts, pinches her nipples, a shaking hand reaching down to the burning between her own thighs to do something, anything to end her torment but he captures her wrists lightening fast, too tight in his grip. Tutting his disapproval he forces her arms up over her head, stretching them high and pinning them into the pillows with almost bone-crunching force. He inhales deeply at the scent that lingers just below her jaw and soft lips brush her skin in a fleeting caress as she writhes, knees spreading to embrace his pelvis in the cradle of her hips as he thrusts his hard, rigid flesh slowly against her belly in reply.

He is torture tonight, agony of the sweetest kind burning her world to ashes and cinder around her, a final display of possessive passion before morning inevitably comes to steal him away. He consumes her whole-hearted and she follows blindly, lost in the throbbing, wet slick of her own fight for satisfaction.

He needs her more desperately then he's ever known, needs to know she is his and needs to burn himself into her consciousness indelibly. He has to make sure he's there inside her with the same fire that burns her presence into him. Time parted from her is pure cruelty and it's making him crazy, aching with the compulsion to be with her even when he's not and he grinds himself hard against her flesh, praying to mark her body and soul in the most intimate way he knows how.

He tells her to beg and she does, making her plead for release as he whispers heat into her ear, thin trails of pre-come painting streaks across her abdomen. He growls dangerously as she squirms against him, free fingers parting the saturated lips of her sex as he caresses her opening with the skim of his hardness. He grits his teeth at the heat and she cries out for the fleeting contact, core twitching in anticipation as he forces her legs further apart with the weight of his body. She moans, feeling him torturously slicking his cock, dragging lazily over the fluid gathered at the opening of her sex.

She is wet and loose, burning with readiness and he clutches tightly onto her hip with his one free hand as he pushes insistently against her fluttering sheath. He is a cruelly unstoppable pressure as he forces inside, even as he stretches her almost to the breaking point, she shudders and tenses and gasps her pleasure. He fills her, too far and too much and she clenches hard around him, feeling him force the last inches of his cock into the tightly hugging depth of her sex. The friction burns and she rolls her head back to cry silently at the ceiling, coming almost instantly with the sharp stab of long-denied relief in a tense, hard twitch of her pelvis.

He feels her sex constrict around him, massaging his flesh in flurried pulses as she grunts and jerks, riding out the crest of a fast, powerful wave before he thrusts, forcing his groin viciously against her own.

She does scream then, loud and impassioned as her back arches violently, pleading moans spilling over her lips as he pumps roughly, forceful and steady between her thighs. The weight of him pins her, crushing her against his muscular body, the strength of his hips pounding her into the bedsprings as need still twists savagely in her belly.

God... she moans his name, breathless and dazed, wrapping her legs securely around his ass as he releases her hands to grip tightly onto her hips instead. He forces her to meet his thrusts, plunging impossibly deep and he almost chokes at the feeling of being inside her so completely, so intensely.  

She whimpers, ecstasy edged with pain, her core swallowing him so eagerly while his fingers dig pale bruises into her hips and he loses his tempo for a moment, redoubling his pace as she scrapes her fingernails in fierce welts across his back.

He roars as she clings on for dear life, his intensity consuming her, body full to bursting with the hard girth of his demanding and insatiable cock and she feels something inside her mind shatter, ecstasy breaking through with a sharp, dizzying power, the force of his fucking cracking the headboard against the wall in loudly thumping beats. The rhythm echoes inside her and she almost sobs as a second release consumes her body, bearing down with savagely intense need as she shudders and screams, explosive heat bolting through her spine like lightening as she comes, fire in her core burning her to oblivion.

"God... oh, God..."

She cant speak, can't think, just whimpers it over and over again as she clings onto him, riding out the highest crest of her passion as he grinds himself brutally into her sex, once, twice, semen exploding into the confines of her channel with a scalding hot rush as he quivers with tension. He gives one last, hard jerk of his hips and locks himself deep inside, riding out the aftershocks with tight twitches of muscle before slumping heavily on top of her.

His scratches will heal but her bruises will not, not before she can forget. They are her tribute, every time she sits or stands for days to come, the bruised ache will remind her and he clings on tightly, kissing her with all the passion he holds inside himself, feeling her shake desperately in his arms as her panting whimpers fill the silence.

Emotion burns like ember in his chest and sears hotly behind his eyes as he consumes her lips, pours every ounce of his pain and fear and loneliness into the soft, forgiving sweetness of her mouth. He silently begs her to understand and he prays that she does as he rolls onto his back, bringing her with him still deeply impaled on his cock. Wrapping his limbs around her desperately he clutches onto everything he ever needed to survive and he wretchedly wishes he didn't have to let go.

(The Eleventh Time -)
In thinking...

Three a.m., staring at the ceiling.

You're still awake, aren't you?

Lying under hotel sheets, the clock on the dresser tormenting you with neon red numbers that refuse to flash forward to morning. The room is dark, but from the moonlit gap between the curtains you can still see the crack in the plasterwork above your head.

You can't sleep, can you?

Not when you're alone, anyway. Things that used to be second nature to you are now constantly strange and unpleasant. Though it took you so long to get used to sleeping with another person in the bed, now that they're not there you just can't sleep at all, and you suddenly figure that right about now she's getting up to begin her day.

You're lonely, that's what you are. There's no point in denying it. Lying there fantasising in the darkness on a bed that smells of strangers and laundry soap. Dreaming of the things you had to leave at home so you could be here instead. Not that you had a choice, you remind yourself, it comes with the duty and you'll see it through, but it doesn't stop the images that run behind your closed eyelids in a liquid stream of warmth and wanting. But you can only taste the cool, empty air on your tongue as your lips part on a sigh and it's just not enough.

You miss the way she tastes, don't you?

The salt flash of skin against your tongue as you lick the curve of her throat. The taste of her mouth as she kisses you. The feel of her under you, willing and pliant and wanton and hot and crazy and yours...

In your mind she's basking under the attention.

You can see her naked, can't you?

The sight of her, lost in a dreamy world of erotic bliss torments you as it wavers behind your closed eyelids. It's a teasing wisp of memory. Because the last time you saw her like that you were right there, putting that look on her face with your tongue and lips and fingers, watching the red flush rise over her breasts and you would give anything to be there now... tasting her. Loving her. Fucking her.

You moan quietly with the thought. The body-memory guides you to remember exactly what she likes as your fingers twitch slightly in expectation. Exactly how to touch her and make her desperate. Exactly what she tastes like as you suck her tongue into your mouth in the deepest of kisses. Exactly what that mouth feels like when it's wrapped around your cock, sucking you to the edge of sanity.

Your body betrays you, you know. It always does. With its gut-deep need to be with her. You're tenting the sheets like a teenager with the unsated heat swelling between your legs and you spare a split second to wondering what it is about her that reduces you to this place. To being so desperate that you're an inch from masturbating like a pubescent boy under the sheets because you can't stop the hunger that's consuming you. But the thought's gone as fast as it arrived and your hand flexes slightly as it lies heavily across your sternum.

You want to touch yourself don't you?

Ease the ache that's growing heavy and insistent, pulsing with the thud of your heartbeat as you idly stroke your stomach. The light brush of your thumb against a nipple sends a shiver coursing down your spine, a sharp flash of intense pleasure that curls your toes and tightens your heart and you make the lightest little noise under your breath.

You like it when she does that.

You like it when she kisses you there. Wraps her lips around your nipple and sucks, just like she does to your cock. Strokes it with the tip of her tongue. Bites and licks and pinches, then fastens her hot mouth to the base of your neck. The place where your pulse hammers the strongest.

The flesh between your legs is aching. It's the dull pain of unsatisfied need and your face tightens slightly as your fingertips trace the flat little peaks on your chest before trailing down the hard muscle of your stomach. It's like the way that she touches you, but her hand is smaller and you wish she was here, but you move with certainty even in the dark as you touch your own body. You find the narrow line of  pubic hair that trails lazily towards your groin and you suck in a breath at your own need. Your cock is rigid and upright, blood-hot as you wrap your fist around it for the first time in what feels like forever and you hiss at the sensation, spine arching back as you pump at it roughly.

The feeling is sorely familiar and you clench your teeth to stop from moaning, slowing the pace of your hardened fist to a slow, torturous fuck. You want the release, but not yet... not quite yet... She's dancing behind your eyes, flushed and wanton like the last time you had sex, clinging to your shoulders as her body holds you inside.

She feels so good, doesn't she?

The memory burns and you gasp with your need, twisting your face into the pillows as you pause to flick lightly at the head, tormenting yourself with a low curse because prolonging the agony only sweetens the pleasure. It's something she taught you and you embraced it, the muscles in your thighs tensing as you raise your knees, parting your legs slightly, all the better to sprawl across the bed in a languorous, sensual heap. Long slow strokes become pure cruelty but you keep the pace steady, breathing harder in the solitary darkness as you feel yourself drawing nearer the edge. Your fist clenches almost imperceptibly, desperation starting to build at the hot, erect flesh in your palm and your arm jerks harder as your lips part in a silent moan.

You're burning inside, aren't you?

Desperate for the weight of her as your hips begin to twitch, dying for the slick tight feeling of her sex as she rides you. Dying for a body to sink into. Dying to hear her scream your name...

Your stomach feels tight. All of you feels tight. Coiled and twisted in anticipation as the pulsing, burning, aching all mixes into a dull roar. It buzzes in your ears as you feel your heartbeat thunder, flames coating your spine as you tense so hard it almost hurts, and then you're screaming...

Molten fire in your crotch, it bursts hard with a tense expletive, hips jerking against your palm as your spine snaps taut. Eyes clenched tight there's pure silence, a moment of ecstatic bliss as everything inside you screams its release, gasping for breath as you try not to cry out...

And then just as suddenly it's over.

You crash down hard, blood pounding in your head as you shakily free your cum-spattered fist from under the blanket with a low, panted moan and you could almost cry you're still so desperate. Still so god damn lonely in the dark, frustrated and angry, the disappointment suddenly crushing.

It was nothing like you were hoping, was it? Absolutely nothing at all. Not without her, and the realisation makes you feel hollow. Spent. Unsatisfied.

You're too tired to move. Too tired to care and you wipe yourself clean on a corner of the sheet before you roll over with a quiet grunt, burying your head in the pillows to wish that sleep would finally claim you, as the neon red clock continues to mock you from the corner.

Three-twenty five a.m., staring at the walls.

You miss her more than ever.

(The Last Time -)
In the end...

He turned up that day after class, the second the last student had gone. Standing in the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest he had an expression on his face that made her feel like a naughty little girl for the first time in years. She had to bite back the moan at seeing him there, just a little bit smug and self-assured, knowing for once that he was going absolutely nowhere. Want had flooded hard through her veins all day in anticipation of her daydream fantasies and it was all that she could do to stop herself from outright begging as he walked past her and dropped down into the chair, the smirk never quite leaving his lips.

He knew. He always knew. He could smell her as soon as he got home, her expectant scent all over the school as she got hotter and hotter, the sweet, teasing smell of need growing more and more intense and he pulled her down onto his lap. Her back pressed against his hard chest as he hooked his knees between her legs, splaying her open as he let one proprietary hand creep under her skirt.

His fingers against the apex of her thighs met with hot, slippery wetness, covering her, soaking her all over and he hummed his appreciation at finding no barrier between his probing caress and her tense, quivering body. "You're a little eager ain't ya?"

He made her hiss as his fingers trailed up and down lightly against her seam, skimming the slick fluid that oozed from within her body.

"Been this fucking wet all day," she moaned. "Thinking about you... about all the things I want to do with you now you're home."

He purred low in her ear, a bass rumble of approval and promise as he cupped her mound, rubbing the palm of his hand back and forth over her soaked curls.

"No panties, darlin'? And just where did you lose those?"

He leaned in to suck on her neck, his other hand slowly moving over the soft weight of her breast as she keened slightly in reply.

"Aah... they're in my purse..."

She hissed as he moved his mouth to the other side of her neck.

"I took them off... because every time I... aah... every time I think about you, all I can... uunh..."

She dug her fingernails into his thighs and shuddered as he slowly ran the tips of his fingers over her soaked opening again.

"What did you think about, darlin'?"

"How much I want you to bend me over and fuck me, Logan..."

She grit her teeth, spreading her legs wider in invitation to his slowly probing fingers as he laughed darkly against her ear.

"I see... so you took 'em off for quicker access, huh?"

She whimpered in affirmation and he brushed the tip of his index finger over her clit just once before moving his hand to her thigh, the flash of sensation making her whole body jerk.

"Does it get you all hot and bothered, darlin'? Thinking about one little orgasm like that? Or is it cause you like it fast and hard, baby...?"

He licked slowly up the side of her neck, biting her earlobe before speaking again.

"Or maybe... maybe it's just because you like the idea of getting bent over your desk and fucked between classes. Is that what it is? Hard and fast and where anyone can walk in on you."

She was writhing in his lap now, her splayed legs parting her sex in desperate invitation as she rolled her head back against his shoulder, pathetic yearning dying in her throat.

"Please..."

He smiled lazily, tracing the dampness that clung to her inner thighs.

"You don't need to beg, baby," he whispered. "You know I'm always happy to fuck you."

"Oh God..."

She moaned weakly, her toes curling as he pushed two of his fingers deeply into her hot, slick core, stretching her open as he worked the digits in circles, gradually crawling deeper. She was panting, close to release already, hypersensitive from prolonged arousal as his penetrating fingers stilled then slid out completely.

He physically lifted her then, pushing her stomach flat against the top her desk and planting his hand between her shoulder blades to keep her pinned down. Pressed low against the wood she was vulnerable, painfully turned on, knowing he could and would play her body into ecstatic bliss as she was left with no choice but to submit herself to his intensity.

She bit her lip, fingers curling around the edge of the desk as he lifted her skirt, pushing it up until it bunched around her waist. She spread her legs for balance, revealing her drenched, pink opening to him and he reached down with one hand to undo his pants, puling out his hard, engorged cock from the confining denim before stroking it idly in his fist.

The darkened flesh oozed a drop of liquid from the head and he wiped it off between her thighs, the passing swipe of his cockhead making her whimper with need. He grinned to himself, positioning his erection against her open sex, using his hand to guide slowly into her body until just the tip of him was sheathed.

He could see her pink lips clutching tightly around the thick end of his shaft, her body squirming in desperation before he slowly pulled out of her slick warmth, the tip of his erection glistening and wet with her fluid. She mewled pathetically, pressing her cheek into the cool surface of the desk as he pushed himself just barely into her body again, teasing with only the head of his cock, stretching past her lips until they hugged him tightly before he withdrew, torturous and slow.

She was desperately trying not to scream, her body yearning for deeper, harder fulfilment, desperate agony aching through her as he gradually slid into her core once again. She grit her teeth, expecting him to slip right back out, but she was forced to suck in a desperate breath as he slowly, finally began to push deeper.

He could drag it out until she was mindless with need, she knew what he was capable of. Impossible self-control as he reduced her to nothing but ashes, the fire inside burning her to insanity. It brought him a perverse sense of satisfaction, she knew, bringing her right to the edge but just denying release for half a second longer, knowing he had that control when she was hot and desperate and wanting...

The slow push was agonising, his cock only half in her sex but she was on the verge of coming anyway, and then suddenly he rammed himself home, her breath catching in a desperate gasp as he thrust himself completely inside her core.

She could barely form a coherent thought, the intensity almost making her sob as he thrust forward again, hard, seating himself deeper before he began to grind into her body, a slow, aching roll of his hips. So close to the edge she felt helpless, one hand still pinning her down while the other squirmed around the front of her sex. Blunt fingertips nudged her clit before they slipped further, pausing to stroke the stretched entrance to her passage as it tightly hugged his cock. His thickness filled her completely and she whimpered as he stroked their connection with slippery, wet fingertips, touching the intimate place where they joined before he returned up to her clitoris and pinched it, thrusting roughly into her sex as she cried out.

Her world exploded into fire as she came hard and deep, contracting around his firmly embedded erection as every muscle in her body tensed. She could feel herself shaking, her sex desperately clutching onto him as he continued to thrust, pounding her into the desktop in search of his own satisfaction.

He followed her into orgasm a few hard thrusts later, and she was still panting breathlessly as he emptied himself into her body, the hot, wet feeling of his come dribbling out down her thigh as he withdrew.

She moaned quietly, still gripping the edge of the desk as he pulled her skirt back down over her bare ass, straightening it in a businesslike way before tucking himself back into his pants. She gave a quiet whimper as he pulled her upright, fitting her flush against his body before he kissed her deeply, the nimble flick of his tongue against her own filling her mind with a myriad possibilities. He growled as he pushed his hand under her skirt, cupping the apex of her legs, pressing his palm against his own still-hot fluid as it oozed out of her.

She moaned against his mouth, feeling him smear the wetness across her crotch and over the inside of her thigh, sticky and warm and just a little bit dirty. Like a smear of debauchery under the professional appearance.

"I should clean up before class..." she murmured, her eyes closing with a sigh as he continued to massage her sex with his fingers, enjoying the guilty pleasure of knowing evidence of their fucking still clung to her.

"Leave it," he purred, his lips fastening momentarily onto the crook of her neck. She shuddered as he tightened his grip against her sex before he spoke again. "I like knowing that you taste of me."

She whimpered a little and he drew his hand out from under the fabric, fingers wet, glistening in the light as he formed a loose fist.

"I'll be back when class is over," he said. "And I want you to taste just like this."

She nodded mutely, biting her lip as he smirked and licked his knuckles, images of his tongue dancing in her mouth resurfacing again as heat bloomed once more inside her sex. She sighed shakily as he walked out the door, barely a moment before the first students began to file in.

It was going to be a very long class...