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Ordinary Days, Extraordinary Nights
"You get up every mornin’
from the alarm clock’s warnin’…"
‘Takin’ Care of Business’
Beeping. God-awful beeping. The alarm. Time to wake up. His arm tightens around me, pulls me closer to his side. I slide my arm around his waist, put my head on his shoulder. Want to stay here like this. I can smell his skin, the masculine scent of him makes my body tingle. He’s rubbing his cheek against my hair, his hand is moving up and down my side. The gentle caress is nearly as pleasurable as having him moving inside my body.
He’s pulling me closer again, his fingers are caressing my cheek, pushing the hair from my face. When I look up, his incredible blue eyes are looking down at me. His eyes make my heart beat faster, bring an instant smile to my face. He smiles...he has the most beautiful smile in the world. It makes my insides flutter when he smiles at me like that. "Morning, My Heart." I can’t resist pressing my lips against his bare shoulder. The taste of his skin is better than ambrosia.
"Morning, My Star," he replies.
I pull away from him, afraid that if I don’t, I’ll be unable to fight off the desire…the need, to make love to him. My body suffers from the loss of contact with his skin. I trace his whisker-roughened cheek with just my fingertip. I love the feel of his beard against my skin. "You want the shower first?"
He shakes his head. I’m not surprised. The first thing he wants every morning is coffee. He doesn’t function well without caffeine in his system.
I stand up, take off my teddy. I look at him, see the way his eyes are traveling my body. I recognize that look…the look that says he knows every inch of me. Feeling playful, just a bit...naughty...I shake my shoulders, watch the blue of his eyes darken as they focus on my breasts. I can’t help but giggle at his look of hunger, it makes me feel...powerful. I love the raw desire on his face, in his eyes.
I turn the water on, let it warm up while I twist my hair up and clip it out of the way. I’ll wash it later, after workouts. Right now I just want to wash up. I don’t need everyone on the base to smell that we made love last night. I finish quickly, before my thoughts can turn to what transpired in our bed last night. It only takes another minute to cover my skin with body lotion.
I open the door and hurry to the bedroom, the air cool against my heated body. I watch him disappear into his closet, his cup of coffee in his hand. I go into mine, grab my lingerie from the drawer, slide it onto my body. I pull on a pair of jeans, the pair I know he likes. The cropped sweater I pull over my head is soft and comfortable.
"Put socks on, babe, or your slippers. The kitchen floor is cold," he tells me.
I nod, slip my feet into the fuzzy pink slippers he bought for me. I lean up and kiss him on the chin as he walks by me, the need to taste his skin too powerful to fight. "Love you."
"Love you, too, babe," he replies. I watch him as he walks into the bathroom. I love his ass. I love every inch of him. But I really love his ass.
There is a cup of coffee waiting on the counter for me. I take a few sips, turn on the TV, search for and find the news. I go back to the bedroom, find a pair of socks and my boots, slide both onto my feet. I take the time to make the bed. Doesn’t take long, seems that we only sleep on his side of the bed. I can't help but smile at that. I don’t sleep well unless I’m touching him. He never seems to mind.
I open the bathroom door and step in. Steam rises from the shower, I wipe the mirror above my pedestal sink with the towel I used a few minutes ago. I brush out my hair. My jewelry box is on the chest between the two sinks, I look through it for a pair of earrings. The little gold studs he bought me for my birthday, I decide. I pull my pendant over my head and tuck it safely against my skin.
He’s finished now, pulling on his clothes. I watch him as he applies shaving foam to his face...drags the razor over his jaw and chin and neck. There’s something sexy about a man when he’s shaving. He glances at me, and winks. When he’s finished, he wipes his face, puts on his glasses, then grabs his pendant from the dresser. Like me, he tucks it under his sweater against his skin.
He follows me into the kitchen. Last night he told me that he wanted breakfast at home this morning. He told me he prefers my cooking to what can be had at the commissary on base. I don’t mind. It makes me happy to know that I please him with my culinary skills. Not that I’m any sort of chef. Just an average cook. He runs his hands over my hips and ass. I feel moisture form between my legs from his caress. The simplest touch of his hands always makes me ready for him.
"How do you want your eggs, honey?" I let my hands roam over his oh-so-fine butt. I look into his eye, see them darken. My hand cups the erection I have caused. I smile a secret smile inside. I love knowing what my touch does to him, love knowing that he is as susceptible to my touch as I am to his. I move away, open the fridge before I’m tempted to drag him back to bed.
"Scrambled," he replies.
I grab the eggs, get a bowl from the cupboard. I find the skillet, spray it with non-stick cooking spray. I put a paper towel on the counter, use it to hold the empty shells after I break the eggs into the bowl, sprinkle in salt and pepper and a little thyme. We move with familiarity around one another. He rubs his hip against mine as I’m beating the eggs. The touch causes bolts of fire to shoot through my body. He’s grinning at me, knows what I’m feeling by the jerk my body gave at the contact. His erection has gone down, but I know that one touch from my hand would bring it back to full, aching hardness. This thought pleases me.
The eggs cook quickly, I keep them stirred while he finishes the toast. I take two plates from the plate rack and divide the contents of the skillet between them. I hand one of the plates to him, and I sit down to eat. I’m wide-awake now, ready to talk, to share with him. I tell him about what my plans are for the day. I predict the responses of the people we work with to upcoming events. He laughs when I tell him how the people who are scheduled to come to the gym today will react to learn that Teal'c and I have worked out a new routine. Finished, I stand up and kiss him. He tastes of coffee and toast and that flavor that is distinctly him, the one that makes me melt every time my lips come in contact with it.
I rinse the dishes and put them into the dishwasher, while he puts away the bread and jam and butter. I wipe off the toaster so he can put it away. While he puts on his boots and goes to start the jeep, to warm it up, I toss the eggshells and paper towel into the garbage. The skillet cleans up easily, and I leave it draining on a towel. I wipe the counter and the cooktop, and turn off the coffee maker. I pour the last of the coffee into his travel mug.
We go to the bathroom together, brush our teeth. He puts his wallet and ID into his hip pocket, scoops the handful of coins on the chest into his hand and shoves them into his front pocket. I go to the bedroom long enough to grab my purse, while he turns off the TV and grabs his mug of coffee. We take our coats from the rack near the door and leave.
"…take the 8:15 into the city,
there’s a whistle above and
people pushin’, people shovin’,
and the girls are tryin’ to look pretty…"
‘Takin’ Care of Business’
He holds my hand as we step out the back door. He’s always so thoughtful, so considerate. Does he realize how much it means to me? Does he have any idea that his actions make me feel as if I am the most special woman on Earth? How can I help but smile when the man I love, the man I adore, the man I burn for, treats me as if I were a special gift? My heart pounds against my ribs, the love that surges through my veins almost painful.
"Hold this, will you, babe?" he asks, behind the wheel now. He hands me the travel mug. He never uses the holders. Well, sometimes. But usually he asks me to hold his coffee for him. I don’t mind. He turns and looks out the back window, then puts the jeep into reverse. He’s always so careful, watches every morning for the school kids. My heart swells even further with my love.
I hear the children behind us. I glance at his face, see the flash of longing in his eyes. I ache to give him a baby, I know he would like to have a family. I would love to have a family with him, he would be such a wonderful father. Dr. Williams has told me that they’re working on the problem, but it won’t be easy. The Quickening that prevents those two special cells from coming together has to be understood before it can be counteracted. I comfort myself with the thought that we have forever. Is it wrong, I wonder, to want to keep him to myself? More than I want a child, I love my life with him now, just the way it is. I’m selfish, I decide. But I can’t help it.
I turn on the radio, find my favorite rock station. I know the song, Journey’s ‘Open Arms’. I sing along with it. Music has been a part of my life since I was a little girl. I could hide in it when I was hurt or sad, or even happy. I haven’t told him about my childhood, he has asked a time or two, but I managed to steer the conversation away from myself and towards him. Someday, I think, someday I’ll tell him. Right now, it’s not important. He holds out his hand, ready to take his mug back. I impishly take a sip before giving it to him. Yuck. Black coffee. I can't help but wrinkle my nose in disgust. How can he drink it like that? I see his grin. I bite back my own.
As usual, about a mile from the complex we run into the traffic that consists of the others who work in the mountain. The line inches toward the gate. It never fails to remind me of the daily traffic jams I endured when I lived and worked in Tacoma. Today I wonder how Kelley and Gretchen are, what they’ve been doing. Do they ever think about me?
My life has changed so drastically. I was captured by a Goa’uld, although I didn’t know what he was at the time. I was his slave, until I killed him. I force that memory to the back of my mind, instead take out the first time I looked down into Daniel's beautiful blue eyes. I was his from the moment he first smiled at me. Discovering I was an Immortal put me into a spin for awhile. He was there, with his love, his gentleness, to help me cope with that new facet of my life. Memories of our ‘first’ forty-three years together scamper across my mind as I watch the vehicles lined up in front of, beside, and behind us. I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that I had lost him, endured two long years without him, only to be reunited with him and sent back to this time by a Being I can never hope to understand. I send out a silent 'thank-you' to Oma, and to whatever gods played a part in my being here now, sitting in a jeep, in traffic, beside this incredible man, the man I love so much it sometimes scares me.
The gate guard salutes us, I bite back another smile at the look that always crosses his face when it happens. A combination of confusion and surprise and acceptance. I know that he doesn’t realize just how popular he is here. How much the men and women he works with respect him. I think all of them are amazed that, despite all that he’s suffered, he remains a gentle, kind, optimistic man. He doesn’t realize that everyone who works with him can see beyond his shy, quiet, scholarly demeanor to the man beneath, a man willing to sacrifice all for those he loves, for the ideals he values.
He pulls into his assigned parking space. He takes my hand and raises it to his lips. The gentle caress, the tiny touch of his tongue against my skin sends chills of excitement down my spine. The most casual caress from him can make me pant with desire. He’s right, I am a hussy.
We get out and walk to the first pedestrian checkpoint. He has already shown the guard his ID. I dig through my purse, I know it’s in here somewhere…move the body lotion, move past the wallet, it’s under my hairbrush. I grab it and show it to the guard, then drop it back into my purse, where it will disappear until I dig it out again tomorrow. I tease the guard, he’s just become engaged. The guard blushes and laughs.
I turn to him, and smile. I can’t help but smile when he looks at me like that, as if I were the most important thing in the world to him. My heart skips a beat at that thought. His fingers feel so warm when I intertwine mine with them. He puts our hands into his coat pocket. The action warms more than my cold hand.
We reach the second checkpoint and I tell a joke as I sign in. He rolls his eyes, but his grin tells me that he isn’t as put off as he pretends. The guards are laughing, and I turn to him, waiting for the second half of our daily act to begin.
"You’re such a hussy," he says, his eyes smiling at me as much as his mouth is.
"Yeah, but you love me anyway." That he loves me is still a mystery to me, but I choose not to question that miracle. I focus on enjoying it, reveling in it.
"I damn well do love you," he replies, kissing me on the forehead; the brief contact makes my body tingle.
We get on the elevator. There are two SF’s, and a nurse, I know the woman from the weekly "Ladies Nights" that I started at the Pit. Well, Gracie, from the control room and I started it. It gives the few women who work in the mountain a chance to get to know one another, and build a support system that we all need, and that the men will just never understand. I’m catching up on the latest gossip, some of the tidbits are amusing and have both of us laughing..
The elevator stops on level 14. I turn to him, and lean up to kiss him. When he parts his lips slightly I slip my tongue into his mouth, tasting him, savoring every sensation that his mouth gives me. I pull away before I lose control of the kiss…of myself. I step out of the elevator, wink at him and blow him a kiss. I watch as he ‘catches’ the kiss and blows one back at me.
"Love you." Oh, how I love him!
"Love you too, babe," he replies just before the doors close.
I sigh, and walk toward the gym where I know Teal'c is waiting. I know I’m grinning like a lovesick fool. And damned if I care what anybody thinks about it.
I’m tired. It’s been a long morning, with more than the usual grumbling, especially when the new routine is introduced. I don’t mind, not really. Most of the complaints are done good-naturedly. It’s become a game between me and several of the SG teams. But the workouts are physically demanding. They have to be, in order to make these men and women as physically combat ready as possible. I’m leading the last group in cool down exercises when the phone rings. I wave that the group is finished, and I grab the receiver.
"Hi, babe. Ready for a break?" God he sounds so sexy! I love his voice. Oh, girl, admit it, you love everything about the man!
"Oh, yeah! Give me twenty?" I am so ready for a break. But I need to take a shower first.
"I’ll meet you there. What do you want?"
"Surprise me." I know that he is probably more aware of my likes and dislikes than I am. There are times he knows what I want before I do. That has to be the result of, hmmm…forty-seven years together on the 4th of July this year. Four years since Oma sent us back to this time, together, both of us now Immortal. He now has all of his memories of our time together as well. That definitely has to be why it seems he can read my mind. I talk to Teal'c for a minute before I head for the showers.
I strip and put my sweats in the bag in my locker. I need to take it home and do laundry tonight, or I won’t have anything to wear tomorrow. As usual, the water is at first too hot, then flows too cold, now it is barely lukewarm. I wash my hair, noting that I need to pick up shampoo for here. I lather up my nylon scrunchy, and vigorously scrub my body. I hate the idea of smelling sweaty, of being dirty. I slather lotion on my skin, taking as many showers as I do tends to dry it out if I don’t apply lotion faithfully. When I'm finished, I pull on the clothes I arrived in, and take out my hair dryer. A glance at the clock tells me that I have about three minutes left of the twenty I asked for, so I put the dryer back in my locker, rub the towel briskly over my hair one last time, then brush it, letting it fall loosely down my back. I’ve thought about cutting it, but the one time I mentioned it to him, he begged me not to. When he looks at me like that, I can refuse him nothing. So long it stays.
The commissary is crowded when I walk in. I look around, searching each table…there he is. My pulse races just looking at him. He smiles at me. His smile triggers one of my own. "Thank you, My Heart." He's chosen lunch well, I notice.
"You’re welcome, My Star."
His ‘star’. He has called me that from the beginning. I asked him about it once…he told me that the brightest thing in the heavens was a star, and I was the brightest thing in his universe. Sweet talker.
"Ooh…chocolate cake!" I absolutely adore chocolate cake! I take a bite…oh, yeah, it’s heaven. I close my eyes and savor it. Fresh baked chocolate cake with chocolate fudge frosting. The only thing better is being in bed with him.
He unwraps the sandwiches, and I pull the plastic lids off of the potato salad and the green salad. What a team we are. It’s second nature to us now. Four women are sitting at a table next to us, looking at us with knowing smiles. Two pairs of eyes are looking at us with envy. I hear the whispers about how good I have it, how lucky I am, how wonderful Daniel Jackson is. If you only knew, ladies, if you only knew. I smile at them, but don’t say anything. This is our time together. I don’t want to share him with anyone else right now, don’t want anyone…intruding.
I take a long swallow of tea, I’m really thirsty. "You would not believe what a bunch of crybabies the Marines were today," I tell him. I take a bite of my sandwich. "All I wanted them to do was cross their feet, and then bend over and touch their toes. Nothing difficult. You’d have thought I was ordering them to put on tutus and dance the Nutcracker!"
He grins at me. "Maybe they’re not in as good of shape as you are," he replies.
"Please! They’re supposed to be in better shape than me."
"I dunno, babe, your incredible shape is in incredible shape," he teases. I love the ways he lets me know that he finds me attractive. It makes me feel…appreciated. Desirable.
"I’m kinda partial to your shape, myself." I can’t help but giggle at the look in eyes. The look that says he has things on his mind other than lunch or work. Thoughts of what his incredible shape can do to me makes me want to squirm in my chair. I just barely manage to remain still.
"You are, huh?" he asks. He’s got that shy smile on his face, the one that turns my insides to complete mush.
"Yep." I look at the remainder of my sandwich. I just can’t finish it. I have already eaten the salad, half a sandwich and the chocolate cake. "Do you want this?"
He takes the remaining half of my sandwich and takes a bite. I wad up my napkin…ooh … Hershey’s chocolate. I reach out and take a piece. He grabs my hand, guides the chocolate morsel to his mouth. I laugh at the look on his face as the chocolate mixes with the sandwich. Must not be too good. He takes a swallow of coffee.
I feel a little guilty for spoiling…hmm…the sandwich, or the chocolate? I pick up another piece of the candy bar. I smile at him and hold it to his lips. He takes the chocolate, closes his lips around my finger, I feel his tongue brush against it. I can’t stop that tiny gasp that escapes from my lips, the flames that dance in my body making me want him right here, right now. What kind of a hussy does that make me? Hussy? I’m sliding straight down to slut! I fight down the rush of desire that is filling my mind, my body.
He picks up the last piece of chocolate, and offers it to me. I open my mouth, and just before he can pull his finger back, I flick my tongue against it. Turn about is fair play, my Love. I see his blue eyes darken. He calmly finishes his coffee. I envy him that ability. I don’t dare pick up my tea yet, I’ll spill it if I do.
I smile at him again…I can never seem to stop smiling when I’m with him...and nod my head. I gather the bowls and utensils to one side of the tray, the trash to the other. Whadda ya know...I didn’t drop anything. Amazing. Considering that I still want to boff him right here on this table so bad that I’m shaking inside!
We leave the tray at the appropriate counter, then he holds the door open for me. I take a breath as I walk by him, can smell the soap on his skin, the coffee on his breath. This man can turn me on just standing there holding open a door! I wait for him. He holds out his hand to me, I take it, lacing my fingers with his.
I grin as I finally finish entering all of his completed reports into the computer. He could have done it, but by helping him, I have shortened his day. And the sooner we can leave here, the sooner we can go home. Down girl. Keep your mind on the job and off of his hot, sexy body.
I print out the latest inventory of the base archaeological supplies. According to the computer printout, his excavation supplies are in bad shape. I search through the pile of papers on his desk. When was the last time he requisitioned any?
The phone rings, I know that he’s been bothered all afternoon. I pick it up before it can ring again, hoping that he’s involved in what he’s doing and it didn’t disturb him. It’s Darrin, one of the military archaeologists. He wants to talk to him about some of the artifacts in supply room 10. I tell the man that he’s busy. If it’s so important that the artifacts be catalogued, use the tags already attached. No way am I going to bother him for something this trivial. Unless Jack is screaming that the room needs to be organized, Darrin can just pitch a bitch. Considering Jack’s opinions about all the ‘rocks’, I doubt that will ever happen. The lieutenant isn’t in charge anyway, Daniel is. I sigh when I hang up the phone. Sometimes the people in the department can be so…annoying. Today especially. He needs to get that report done.
I feel him lift my hair, his lips touch my neck, and he’s kissing me right…there…oh! I shiver every time his lips touch me there. He knows it too, and kisses me there every chance he gets. Smart aleck. I look up, he’s grinning, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Ready for a coffee break?" he asks me, pulling me to my feet.
"Oh, yeah. When was the last time you filled out your SRF’s?"
I watch him frown, I can tell that he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Before I can explain, understanding fills his eyes. He shrugs.
I shake my head. I doubt that he has a clue what his inventory is. "Do you realize that you are down to two size two brushes, one number three, and you’re completely out of dental picks."
"I have to fill out a request form to attach to this report. I’ll order the stuff then," he tells me.
I shake my head again. "You have to keep these supplies on hand in case any of the other teams needs to be outfitted. What if I have to go with 6 or 5 or 9 on a dig? Then what?"
His eyes tell me that he can’t see what the problem is. Typical genius. Routine…mundane…details are often overlooked, ignored. Guess that’s why genius’ have assistants. Good thing he has me.
I slip my arms around his waist. "You are certainly a stereotypical scientist." I lay my head against his shoulder. "And I love you that way." I wouldn’t change him for the world.
His arms come up around me, and he pulls me closer to him. He lays his cheek against my forehead, and we stand there, holding each other. I always feel safe, warm, loved, when he holds me in his arms. He puts a finger under my chin and raises my face, lowers his lips to mine.
He traces my lips with his tongue…oh lord, that feeling always makes me gasp…he groans as he pushes his tongue into my mouth. His kiss is so intoxicating, so…fulfilling. The words of a song dance across my brain, ‘this kiss, this kiss’. I can feel my toes curling in my boots. I move my tongue into his mouth, the need to taste him, feel him, drumming in my veins. He is such a good kisser. Not just good, he is…he is an artiste. If he kissed me long enough, I’d come, no doubt about it. As it is, my blood is boiling, a simple touch will set me ablaze. I fill my hands with his hair, holding him, keeping him from moving away from me. His hand is moving up my side, up to my ribs, he cups my breast in his hand. When he moves his thumb across my nipple, both harden until they ache.
He pushes his hips against me, I can feel how hard he is. It takes every ounce of self-control I can muster not to drop to my knees, unzip his jeans and start sucking him off right here.
If I don’t step away, I won’t be able to stop myself. I force myself to move. When I do, he looks at me, his eyes on my lips. They still tingle from his kiss. I want him so badly right now that my desire is an exquisite ache between my legs.
He reaches up and runs his finger over my lips. I can’t help but touch it with my tongue. I watch his eyes widen when I do. "Maybe we should go get some coffee," he suggests.
Very good idea. Need to be where there are people around. That should help me maintain some semblance of control. I smile at him, loop my arms around his neck. "Think you can walk yet, or should we wait a minute or two?" Now who’s being the smart aleck?
I know that if he’s going to regain control over his body, if I am going to regain control over my body, I have to move, now. I step away. I have to keep from reaching out to him again. Finished requisition forms! Yes! I’ll take those to supply, and give him…give myself, time to cool down.
I move away, take a pile of finished forms and file half of them in the filing cabinet. "I’ll be right back," I tell him, smiling at him.
I practically run down to supply. The guys there grumble when they see the stack of forms in my hand. "Hey, it could be worse. I could be bringing forms for the infirmary," I tell them, grinning. That earns me a laugh.
I’m on my way back to his lab when I run into Cathy. I stop to talk to her about a possible lip sync contest, a ‘battle of the sexes’ in the Pit. We have talked about it before, it could be so much fun to do.
I notice that Cathy is watching someone approach from behind me. I turn around, and see him walking toward me. My heart starts pounding like I was a schoolgirl with a crush on the quarterback. Does he know how sexy he is when he walks? Oh, hell, he’s sexy when he breathes! I smile at him.
"Honey, you remember Cathy, don’t you?" I grab his hand and pull him closer.
I can tell by his eyes that he doesn’t really, but he smiles and nods anyway. "Hi, Cathy."
Cathy smiles and says hello, then tells me that we’ll talk at Ladies Night on Wednesday. Oh, the fun we’re going to have planning this! I can’t help but giggle at that thought.
I slip my arm around his waist. "Ready for that cup of coffee?"
"Yep. Maybe a caffeine buzz will help me write that report," he says. He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulls me close. He smells good. He feels good. I lean against him ever so slightly as we walk.
Jack and Sam are sitting near the door. He squeezes my shoulder, his signal to me that he’ll get the coffee. I go to sit with them while he heads for the coffee maker. I can see the relief on his face. He needs a break right now. Jack and Sam greet me with smiles, and I sit down across from them. When he’s relaxed enough, the frustration passed, then he’ll be able to fill out that report. Yep, a break is just what he needs.
He’s hunched over his desk, but he quit typing several minutes ago. The printer has already spit out the completed report. He’s writing now, filling in the spaces of the requisition form, his bold scrawl filling the blanks completely. It amazes me how he can change his handwriting. His notes are tiny marks...cuniforms, the delicate curves and angles legible in even the tiniest of them. When he fills out a check, the writing is precise and neat. But when it comes to forms for the military, it’s all loops and lines. He must have learned it from Jack, because Jack’s is the same way.
I know he’s finished, and my hands refuse to stay away from his body any longer. I begin to knead the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders. He jumps slightly at the first contact. Then he leans back against me. He looks up, just as I bend over to kiss him. My hair forms a curtain around us. He tastes of coffee. The cup beside him is empty.
"Did you get it finished?" I reluctantly move away from him. I’d rather just sit down in his lap and kiss him for the next…oh, two or three years. But I stop before I’m completely out of control.
"Yep." He reaches up and pulls me back down, kissing me again. I brush my lips against his, then pull away, my body protesting in agony at being deprived his caress. But if I let him kiss me like his eyes say he wants to, I won’t be able to maintain control. I glance down at the report. It needs a folder. He stands up just as I start to move. I go to the filing cabinet and takes out folder.
"Here, if you get it ready, I’ll drop it by Jack’s office on my way to the locker room."
"I thought you were done in the gym for the day," he says, looking a bit confused.
"I have to wash all my sweats." I hand him the blue folder.
He takes it, stuffs it with the report and the requisition forms and all the other bureaucratic paperwork required by the Air Force. "Babe, I’ll take this to Jack. Maybe he’ll have a few minutes and we can talk about it."
I nod. "Okay. I’ll meet up with you topside."
He shakes his head. "I don’t know how long this might take, and it’s too cold for you to stand out there waiting."
My heart races at the concern that fills his voice. He worries about me. Never in my life have I had anybody who worried about me, not like this. It makes me feel so…special…so…I shake my head mentally. My mind can’t form the words to describe the feelings he invokes in me. "I could just wait here, and try and figure out what to make for dinner," I say. That will work out great. I can plan dinner, decide what we’ll need from the grocery store. "So, I’ll go get my bag, then come back up here. I need to make out a grocery list."
"Okay, babe. I’ll try not to be too long," he tells me. He’s already down the corridor and onto the elevator before I’ve gathered up the rest of the requisition forms that I filled out. Might as well drop these off on the way to the locker room.
Sam is changing to her street clothes when I walk in, and the tall woman gives me a bright smile. "Must be nice to be a civilian," she teases, nodding at my jeans and sweater.
I smile. "It has its moments." We didn’t have to put on the BDU’s today because this was considered a "down" day for SG-1.
"Any big plans for tonight?" Sam asks me.
No, nothing other than molesting Daniel for a few hours, I think, the thought bringing images of his body against mine to my mind. I shiver inwardly with desire. I shake my head. "Nope. Think I’ll see if I can talk him into renting a movie." A nice short, porn flick. Set the mood. Bow chicka bow bow. This time I can’t hide my grin.
Sam laughs. "From the look on your face, I’m not sure that I want to know what kind of movie you’ll be watching."
I blush, not realizing that my thoughts were so plainly written on my face. "Well, he’s already watched ‘Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood’ with me, so it won’t be that one."
"Didn’t like it?"
I shake my head. "Too much a ‘chick flick’, he says. He says the same thing about ‘Sweet Home Alabama’, ‘You’ve Got Mail’, ‘Pretty Woman’, need I go on?"
Sam laughs again. "He’s been spending way too much time with Jack."
"Well, he’s seen ‘Bourne Supremacy’ twice, so I can veto that one," I flash a wicked grin. "Maybe we’ll just go home and watch my ‘Shrek’ DVD." I grab my canvas tote. "What about you, any plans of your own tonight?"
Sam shakes her head. "I was going to work some more on that new generator. But Jack says if I’m not ready to go at 1830, he’ll send in the Marines. So I thought I’d surprise him and be early."
"Oops?" Sam raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, oops. Daniel just went to talk to Jack. He finished his report this afternoon. He knows how much Jack hates paperwork. So he’ll talk to him instead," I reply.
Sam nods. "Good idea. I already gave him my report," she says with a grimace.
I open the door to the locker room. "See you tomorrow."
I walk back to the lab, stopped only twice by friends for a quick chat.
I sit down at his desk, pull one foot beneath me. I write shampoo on my list right away, knowing I need a new bottle for here. Now, what about dinner. I tap the pen against my lips. Chicken. I can get a package of chicken breasts, they’re quick and easy. I have a package of linguine at home, maybe I’ll make up an alfredo sauce and put it over the pasta. That means a carton of heavy cream and a small chunk of fresh parmesan cheese. Green beans. He loves green beans. I’ll pick up a small piece of ham and some fresh garlic. He loves my green beans and ham. Wonder if they’ll have any of those chocolate chocolate chip cookies. I could go for a couple of those.
I look up, see him standing there. He looks excited, happy. He got it. Jack is going to let us go! I smile at the light in his eyes. "Hi. Looks like you got a go-ahead."
He nods. "Yep. Should hear in a day or two when we’ll be going," he replies. His eyes are dancing with excitement.
I stand up and walk over to him, lock my arms around his neck. "I’m glad, My Heart."
His arms are around me. I love being in his arms. "Ready to go?"
I grab my coat, my purse and my small canvas bag. "Yep. We need to stop by the grocery store."
"Let’s go then." We stop by his office to get his coat, then head to the elevators to leave. His arm is around my shoulders. His hand finds its way to my cheek, his thumb makes circles on my face. I know that the touch is done almost absently. I doubt that he’s aware he’s doing it. It sets off sparks that run up and down my spine.
At least a dozen people call out to me as we walk down the corridor to the exit. I smile and wave, return greetings. I love working here, among people who are friends, some of them more like family.
The jeep is cold, I’m shivering by the time it warms up enough to defog the windows. I’ll be glad when the winter is over. I prefer the sun and warmth of spring and summer. He takes my hand, lifts the cold fingers to his lips. He rubs both my hands with his, trying to warm them. The friction causes more than just my fingers to warm up. I can feel that ache in my loins again. Loins? I almost giggle out loud at that weird thought. I’m aching there, whatever it’s called. The jeep is warm now, he can see out of the windshield. He pulls out, the parking lot noticeably emptier than it was this morning when we arrived.
He pulls into the espresso stand just outside of the gate, orders a hot chocolate for me, a latte for him. I reach across and trail a finger down his cheek, unable to resist touching him. He captures my fingertip between his teeth, then kisses it. My insides quake. Our order is ready. He gives me the hot chocolate, checks to make sure the lid is tight on the latte, and pulls back onto the highway.
The Piggly Wiggly is crowded. There aren’t any carts. Oh well, I only need a few things anyway. He grins at me and takes the hand basket I just grabbed. Okay wise guy, so I got a few extra things the last time we used one of these and had to carry them. Bite me.
The green beans look good. This bunch will do. Where’s the garlic? Oh, here it is. Hey, those oranges look good. So do the grapefruit. I can peel them both for breakfast in the morning. He found some bananas. Okay, moving right along. Here’s the milk…where is it? Can’t they keep all this stuff together? Oh, there it is. Cheese…yes, here’s a small one. This will do. Okay, what’s next? Chicken breasts. Boneless, skinless and on sale. How cool is that? That package of ham slices will work just fine. Now, do they have any of those cookies? Saints be praised, they do. I put a few into a small plastic bag. There was something else on the list, which is conveniently on his desk in the lab. Oh yeah, shampoo. I drop the cookies into the hand basket, and head for that aisle. Let’s see, tried that one, didn’t like it. Ah, here it is. Honey chamomile. I like what it does for my hair, keeps it soft and shiny. Okay, that’s it. He’s standing there so patiently. I slip my arm around his waist. I give in to temptation, slide my hand into his hip pocket. The flexing of his muscles as he walks is just too much. I can’t help it, I pinch that fine ass. From the look he just gave me, I’m going to pay for it later. I shiver in anticipation.
We take our place in the checkout line. I lean my head against his shoulder. Not because I’m tired. Because I need the physical contact, as much as I need the air I breathe. His arm comes up around my shoulders.
I dig out my wallet, get out my credit card and the store card. The young man behind the counter is sweet. Technically, I think, I’m old enough to be your grandmother. That thought brings a smile to my face. Just as he’s said something, what I don’t know, I didn’t catch it. He just grins back at me. Now he’s telling me that he gets off in an hour. I giggle at the thought of this…child…trying to pick me up. How adorable is that, anyway?
He takes the two heaviest bags, leaves the small one for me. Mr. Macho. My hero. Does he have any idea how just a small thing like this affects me? I remember being married to Kenny. He never made me feel like…like a lady…someone to be treasured. Worshipped is the word Daniel uses.
It will be good to get home. Just the two of us. No interruptions. And a very comfortable bed.
It’s dark when he pulls the jeep into the driveway. I’m glad that he changed all the outside light fixtures to sensors, so that we never have to get out of the jeep in the dark. I grab my tote bag, and get my house key out. I unlock the door, hold it open as he comes in with the groceries. I turn on the light, he drops the bags on the island. Before I forget it, I grab the bottle of shampoo and drop it into my purse. I take my coat off, and head to the bedroom to dump my purse there, a habit I developed when I lived with Kelley and Gretchen, and one I have never changed. I pull my boots off. I hate wearing shoes in the house.
I look around when I come out, he’s not here. The back door is open, he must have gone to the garage. I hear the garage door slam. I hurry to open the kitchen door. He kisses me, just a brief touch of his lips to mine, as he walks by me. He has an armload of firewood. Good, we can lay in front of the fire and cuddle. Yeah. Right. Cuddle. I’m going to boff the man’s brains out, if I have my way! I start my sweats in the washer while he builds a fire. He builds great fires. Good ones in the fireplace, too.
"What can I do to help with dinner?" he asks.
Does he realize how many working women would kill to have a man like him? I love it when we cook together. We work in harmony. "You could clean and snap the green beans for me." I close the closet door now that the sweats are washing.
While he searches for the beans, I put the oranges and grapefruit and bananas in the fruit basket, the cookies go into the cookie jar…arrange the ingredients for dinner around me.
He already has the beans in the colander. I get out a pan for him to put them in. I grab the pasta, fill another pan with water to get it on and boiling.
I find the grater, and set it in a bowl. "Anything special you want to do tonight?" I ask him. I have an idea or two. Bow chicka bow bow.
He shrugs. "Nope. Just have dinner and whatever. Is there something you wanted to do?"
I shake my head. "Not really." Well, nothing more than tie you to the bed and cover you with whipped cream and lick you clean.
He finishes up the beans, and fills the pan with water. He puts it on the cooktop, turns on the heat, and sits back down to watch me.
It doesn’t take long to grate the cheese. I put the butter and cheese and flour into a saucepan. I have to keep stirring it or it will stick and burn.
The water for the pasta is boiling. He gets up and opens the package and dumps it in, turns the heat down under the pan. He leans back against the counter. He reaches out and pushes my hair behind my shoulder, lets his hand trail down my back. I shiver slightly, my back arching to stay in contact with his hand. It’s as if my body has a mind of it’s own. If I don’t distract him, right now, dinner is going to have to wait.
"Honey, could you cut that ham into strips?" I need to get this sauce finished, and the chicken breasts have to be cooked yet. Good, the sauce is ready. When the pasta is done, all I have to do is drain it and stir it in. I grab the skillet and pour a little bit of extra virgin olive oil. We once had a discussion on the meaning of ‘extra virgin’. It had been silly and fun and we had laughed ‘til we ached. He has the ham sliced, so I scoop it up and put it into the skillet.
The linguine needs to be stirred. He reaches around me and moves the wooden spoon through the cooking strands. I lean back against him, not much, just enough that our bodies are in contact. I need to feel his body against mine, just for a few seconds. Just to know that he’s real and this isn’t merely a dream.
I peel and smash the garlic, then mince it with the knife. I learned to do that watching the cooking shows on HGTV. It goes into the skillet with the ham. It only takes a minute to brown the ham. I dump the mixture into a bowl, and then put the chicken breasts into the skillet, sprinkle them with salt and pepper and a little bit of the fresh basil I have left.
The pasta is nearly done. I turn the chicken, then check the beans. Just another minute maybe. I look over to see him setting the table, lighting the candles. What a romantic. My heart beats against my ribs. How did I get so lucky? He’s sensitive, charming, funny, and every inch, every bit a real man. I’ve seen him in battle. I’ve seen him cuddle a frightened child in his arms. I have watched him charm the most impossible of aliens. I shiver knowing that this man loves me. I don’t know why he does, but I’ll spend eternity thanking all the gods for letting me fall into his arms that day so long ago.
I turn the chicken again, it’s almost done. Will be by the time the pasta and beans are. I drain the pasta, add the sauce, and pour it into a serving bowl. The beans are drained, poured into a bowl, and the ham and garlic tossed through them. I set the bowls on the table. I make sure that all of the units on the cooktop are turned off, then put the chicken on a small platter.
I hear the gentle strains of Gerald Albright fill the room. How perfect. Just like him to think of it. He takes me into his arms, and we begin to sway to the music. I love being in his arms. I find not just love, not just warmth, but safety, security. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt us, when I’m safe in his arms. When the song ends, I lean up and kiss him, a soft kiss, a promise of things to come.
With a smile, and a growling stomach, he leads me to the table.
"…Let's make love
All night long
Until all our strength is gone
Hold on tight
Just let go
I want to feel you in my soul
Until the sun comes up
Let's make love…"
"Let’s Make Love"
Faith Hill/Tim McGraw
I’m not exactly sure when I decided to do this. Somewhere between cooking dinner and the slow dancing we did just before we cleaned up the kitchen. I dress carefully in the outfit I bought online from one of those…adult…places. I’m glad that I have my own credit card, I have been able to keep this a secret for almost three months now. I know that he won’t expect anything like this.
I have already tried the outfit on, while he was away over night. I have put the chain on, tugged it, even chained myself up in various places, just to make sure I don’t ‘freak out’ during this…game. I have no fear of him, I know that he’ll never hurt me.
I adjust the garters, make sure the seams on the stockings are straight. I pick up the chain, and with a shiver of anticipation, go to the living room. He’s watching the fire, doesn’t see me come in. "Honey?"
He looks up at me. It takes a few seconds for my appearance to register in his brain. I almost laugh at his response to me. I have never seen his eyes so wide, and his jaw drops open. I think I hear him mutter something about ‘sweet Jesus’. He continues to stare at me.
I cross the room to stand next to him, put a finger under his chin and bring him to his feet. This is the last time tonight I will be in control. With the heels on, I can look directly into his eyes. I hook the chain to the clip on my choker. "I am yours to command, Master," I say softly, putting the chain in his hand.
He just keeps staring at me, his eyes moving up and down my body. I’m trembling, for the first time wondering if maybe he won’t be interested in something like this, if he might be…I cut off that terrifying thought.
"Uh…" he finally mutters.
I bite back a smile. I’ve left him speechless. Good. "Anything you wish, you may ask of me, Master." I can't seem to manage more than a whisper.
He walks around me, I know he’s looking at every inch of me. "Stay here," he says. His voice sounds…choked. I kneel obediently on the floor, lower my head. He drops the chain onto the sofa.
I hear him walk to the kitchen, pick up the phone. "Jack, we won’t be coming in tomorrow…Put us down for a day of vacation. There’s nothing important happening tomorrow. Teal'c can handle the gym. We won’t be in…Nope…Oh, yeah…See you Wednesday, Jack."
I would love to know what Jack’s side of the conversation had been. I bite back my giggle. Good slaves don’t giggle.
He walks back into the living room. I keep my head down. He sits down on the couch, I can hear him lean back against the pillows. He picks the chain up and tugs it gently. "Pleasure me," he says softly.
I try to hide my smile. Oh, no. You are going to tell me exactly what you want. You are going to live out your fantasies. "How do you wish me to do this, Master?"
He hesitates. I want so badly to look up at him, to see if his eyes will tell me what he’s thinking. "Suck me off, now."
I crawl to where he’s sitting, unzip his pants, and take his throbbing shaft into my mouth. I love giving him oral pleasure, the velvet steel of his flesh in my mouth pleases me as much as it does him. I’ve wanted to do this all day.
My hands move on that part of him that I can’t get into my mouth. I lick at his balls, take them gently into my mouth and suck them, then move back to his raging hard-on. He loves it when I flick my tongue around the sensitive head…I hear him gasp as I do it. I move my head up and down, sucking on the upstroke and licking my way back down. I take him deep into my throat, I know that it makes him lose control when I do. He holds my head between his hands and begins to thrust up into my mouth. He’s so hard, and hot, and he’s throbbing so fast…I can feel his body tense…
"Yeah, babe. That’s it. Just like… UUNNNGGGGGHHH!"
I knew he wouldn’t last long, not has hard as he was, not as aroused as he was. I’m pretty damn aroused myself, now. He's quiet for a few minutes. Then he looks down at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
"Come with me," he says. He tugs on the chain, it takes me a few seconds to get to my feet. These damn shoes were definitely not meant to really be walked in. He takes me to the bedroom. "Lay down on the bed."
I obey. I don’t know what he wants now. I was pretty sure that he would want me to give him a blowjob. But now…I wonder fleetingly if I can really do this. If I want to stop, all I have to do is say so, and that will be the end. He would never push me, never pressure me to continue. No, I'm going through with this, no matter what he asks me to do. Okay, there are a couple of things I won’t do, but I don’t think he’ll ever ask me to do them.
He’s pulled the chair to the foot of the bed. "I want you to give yourself pleasure. I want you to take your time, make it good. Do you understand?" His voice is quiet, but firm.
I feel my cheeks burn. Oh, lord. I should have expected this. He likes the scenes of that girl masturbating in that movie. He likes to watch it while I go down on him. I remind myself of who is sitting in that chair. The man I love more than life. The man I burn for. The man who would never hurt me. If this will bring him pleasure, it's a small thing. I'm so turned on from what I've just done for him, I could use a little…relief. I nod.
"Now, babe. Do it for me."
I begin to slowly move my fingers, from thigh to thigh, just brushing the glistening wet flesh between them. My other hand begins to caress my breasts, first one, then the other. I tug at the nipples, squeeze them. I close my eyes. The feelings, the sensations, the actions are familiar. My mind takes me back to a time when this was the only release my body received. My hands remember the motions. I can hear him breathing. It doesn’t matter. I need this as much as he wants it, now.
I slide a finger inside my body, move it in and out, add a second, a third finger. Then I begin caressing the swollen folds. I gasp when I finally touch that bud gives me such pleasure, rub it for a minute, then dip my fingers down inside again. My other hand is still moving from breast to breast. I tug harder at my nipples, am rewarded when I feel it between my thighs. I continue to stroke and caress myself, my breathing is becoming ragged.
"That’s it babe," he whispers. "Make it good."
His voice barely registers in my mind. My hips are rocking against my hand now…I’ve got both hands between my thighs, one hand rubbing that oh-so-special place, my other hand moving fingers in and out of my body. I’m moaning now, just a soft, low moan…can’t hold the sound back…it feels good…so good…then suddenly I’m whimpering, like I always do, no matter how hard I try to be quiet. So close, so close…god, I’m there…I cry out his name as my orgasm rocks me.
I take a moment to compose myself. Then I open my eyes, look into his blue ones. "Did I please you, Master?"
I can see surprise in his eyes at my question. Then the blue depths darken. "Yes," he says softly, smiling at me. "Very much."
I watch him, I can see how much my act has affected him. I thought I’d be embarrassed, but I’m not. He’s treating the episode as if it’s a gift I’ve given him. Which, I suppose, it is. I wonder how often the images of me masturbating for him will invade his mind. I nearly giggle out loud at the thought. I’ll have to watch his face closely in upcoming meetings. It could prove entertaining. I thought tonight would be about putting control…power…in his hands, but somehow it hasn’t worked exactly that way.
He stands up, puts the chair back in the corner. "Undress me," he says quietly.
I try to stand up, nearly fall on the heels.
"As sexy as those things are," he says, "take them off."
Thank god! I take the shoes off and toss them to the side of the room. My other stiletto heels are only three inches. The extra two inches make these nearly impossible for me to walk in. Non-hacker, I guess. More accustomed to combat boots.
I move his sweater up over his chest. He raises his arms to help me. The sweater hits the floor. I reach for the tee shirt, and begin kissing him, his back, his sides, his stomach, every inch of the way up. His skin is so hot, the taste of him affecting me every bit as much as my mouth is affecting him. I want him to know the ecstasy of having every bit of his body touched by my lips. He’s done it often enough to me. When I’m standing, I pull the tee shirt from his body. He puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me close. He kisses me, taking his time, tiny little kisses over my lips, the corners of my mouth. I part my lips and he dives in, his tongue dancing with mine, from my mouth to his and back again.
I pull away from his mouth just far enough to speak. "I must pleasure you, Master." This is supposed to be for him, about him. His kisses always give me so much pleasure.
"You are, babe, you are," he assures me, then closes the gap between our mouths once more. I lean against him. I can’t help it. When he kisses me like this, I get so weak in the knees I can’t stand. "Finish undressing me," he whispers, finally letting me go. I kneel down, and slowly lower his pants, taking the boxers with them. He’s hard again, his erection springs free from the confining cloth. I lick my lips at the sight, eager to taste him again. He’s only inches away from my mouth. Please, let me taste you. He puts his hand on the back of my head and guides me toward his body. Yes! I open my mouth and eagerly take him in. I look up, his chin is on his chest, his eyes are closed. I love to please him, love to make him tremble, just as he does me.
I haven’t forgotten that I’m supposed to be undressing him. I gently put pressure against his ankle. He puts his hands on my shoulders when he lifts first one leg, then the other, so that I can take his pants completely off of his body. I never stop licking, sucking him. "Stand up," he whispers.
I look up at him, give his throbbing shaft one last little kiss before I obey. Naughty little slave.
"Do you remember telling me that you couldn’t take pleasure unless I did too?"
I shiver at the memory of his ‘servitude’ to me. I get wet just thinking about that night, the attention he gave me, what he did to me, for me. I nod my head.
"It’s the same for me, babe," he tells me softly. "Stand still. Don’t move."
Again I nod. I’m not sure what to expect.
At first, he only touches me, his fingers moving over the skin that is exposed. My body trembles under his fingertips. He finds the clasp to the choker, takes it off and tosses it and the chain to the floor. He lowers his head, his mouth comes in contact with my skin. He starts with my throat, moves to my shoulders, my collarbone. His hands are full of my breasts, his touch setting my body, my heart, my soul, on fire. He rubs his thumbs over my nipples, they’re so hard and puckered they’re painful. He sits down on the bed, pulls me close, begins to suckle. Oh, yes…sweet relief…it feels so good, his mouth and teeth pulling at me like that. Every tug of his lips resonates between my thighs. He holds my waist firmly in his hands, doesn’t let me move as he continues to move his mouth over my breasts. My hands are in his hair, pulling him closer to my body. I want to shove my entire breast into his mouth. He’s damn near doing that as it is…taking as much of my aching flesh into his mouth as he can.
His mouth never leaves my breasts as his fingers undo each garter. He rolls the stockings down as far as he can reach. I can feel his hands searching, then the tiny hooks on the corset are being undone. My body is on fire, every nerve ending stretched taut. I’m practically vibrating. I’m going to come very soon if he doesn’t stop.
He looks up at me, smiles. He puts a hand behind my knee, I raise my leg so he can finish taking off the stocking. He repeats the procedure with the other leg.
He stands up. "Get the bed ready for us."
Good, yes, I need this, I need to move away from him, need to be able to catch my breath. I begin to toss the pillows onto the chair, pull the comforter to the foot of the bed, then pull back the sheet and blankets. I stand next to the bed, waiting for his next command.
"Do we have any KY jelly?" he asks.
KY jelly? Lubrication for…oh. I shake my head no.
He opens the drawer on the bedside table and takes out the bottle of flavored body oil. "This should work. Get on the bed."
I obey, kneeling in the center of the bed, waiting for him.
He kneels on the bed beside me, takes my chin in his hand, forces me to look into his eyes. "If at any time you want to stop, we stop. If you have any pain, we stop. Understand?"
Okay, I was right. If it’s what he wants, it’s okay. This is his night. Whatever he wants to do, he can do. I know he won’t hurt me. I’ve been damn curious about this particular, um… activity…for years, anyway. He never seemed interested, and I know that some men don’t find the idea of anal intercourse appealing. But I’ve heard things about it…I almost smile at the thought that one of his fantasies is one of mine as well. I nod.
He wraps his hands around my face, looks into my eyes. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"
I smile. "I think so." It can’t be any more than how much I love him. And I love him so much it hurts.
"Game’s over, babe. This is just lovemaking, okay?"
"Okay." My heart pounds at his words. Does he have any idea how wonderful he is? He’s making me a participant, not just a vessel for his desires. Does he realize what this means to me? This is not about fantasies any longer. This is about love. This is about worshipping one another with our bodies.
"I’m serious, if you get scared, or it hurts, we stop."
He kisses me. His hands move over my body, ignoring the one area where I crave his touch the most. He takes his time making love to my mouth, my throat, my breasts. He’s driving my absolutely crazy. My skin is on fire from his loving caresses. I run my hands up and down his arms, over his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex and ripple.
My breath is coming in gasps. When he finally slips his fingers between my legs, I moan. I wrap one hand around his hard, erect flesh, move it slowly up and down, spreading the wetness that already oozes there over the head with a fingertip. I can feel his body shudder at my touch, feel him throb in my hand. It makes the fire burn all the hotter inside me.
"Lay down, babe," he whispers.
I lay back, look in his eyes, see the fire raging in their blue depths. I open my legs for him, aching for his touch.
He lowers himself with a groan and begins to lick at my sensitive flesh. His tongue works over my quivering body, and his fingers begin to move the moisture to where he wants it. He gently touches that tight little opening, makes it wet with my honey before he works a finger inside me. I gasp, my hips buck. I’m a little surprised, the feeling is…different…not…unpleasant. It makes me…hotter, if that’s at all possible. My god, I’m such a slut! His mouth never stops its ministrations.
He moves his mouth back up to my belly. He slides up to lay beside me. "Do you have any idea what tonight means to me?"
I shake my head. Several times I have wondered if my actions tonight would change the way he feels for me, what he thinks of me. I have never been this…forward, this…wanton before. Fear that I might…turn him off…repulse him, even…has danced at the edges of my mind. For the first time all evening, I allow the fear of losing him, losing his love because of my slutty actions to surface. It terrifies me.
His hand roams over my body, a touch meant to soothe, comfort, not arouse. "You have given me a precious gift. It couldn’t have been easy to put a chain around your throat, and give your will up totally. I love you so much, babe."
My heart pounds against my ribs. I was never in any danger. Not with him.
His mouth on my throat, he’s licking me, sucking at my neck. Good thing about Immortality. Never any hickeys. Wouldn’t care if there were any. He wants inside. Legs wrap around his waist…pull him close, need him inside, need it now. He’s so hard, so hot…yes…yesssssss …squeeze him, hold him. Feel him deep inside, hold him, squeeze him...
Taste him…need to taste him. So good, so masculine, so…him. He’s moving. Slow, easy, steady. Feels good. Pull him closer, need his body closer. He puts his head on the pillow next to mine.
Hips moving, meeting his. So good, it feels so good. Oh, god, he’s got his hand…right …there…oh yeah. That’s it. Oh, yes, yes, yes. Keep doing that. Don’t stop. So close …no…don’t move your hand…no…okay, then move…faster…need faster, harder…
He’s pulling out…no…no…don’t do that…need you in me…need you…want you…oh god, so hard, so fast…feels so good. Squeeze him…hold him tight…feel him throbbing.
He’s setting a new rhythm…steady…in…out…in…out…hips grinding…that’s the spot…oh yeah…he’s whispering into my ear now. "Come for me babe. Do it good."
That’s it, right there…ohgodohgodohgodohgod…feels so good…feels so damn good. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you!
Can feel him throbbing…he’s so hard…so close…"Come for me, My Heart, I need you to throb inside me."
His body is shaking…he’s there, he’s filling me with his love…feel him throbbing inside…
I love it when he lays on me, his weight a sweet burden. He’s moving, sliding his arm under my hips. He rolls us over, puts me on top. I don’t want to let him out of my body, not yet. His arms pull me closer.
My head is on his shoulder, I’m still breathing hard. His hands are moving on my back. Fingers tangled in my hair. He combs his fingers through my hair, from my scalp to the ends. I smile. It feels so nice when he does that…so relaxing. I cuddle closer to him.
"Babe, are you sure you want to…uh…go on?"
"If you have any doubts, we’re done."
"No doubts." I have no doubts. Not with him. No doubt, no fear. Only desires, needs, wants…fantasies.
Still combing my hair with his fingers. Does he have any idea how much I enjoy it when he does that?
I move down. I’ve never done this before, but I kiss him after he’s pleasured me with his mouth. It’s not like I’ve never tasted myself on him before. I lick him, no sucking, just licking. What a shameless slut I am. This should bother me, right? It doesn’t. I love touching, tasting his body. Earlier thoughts dance in my head. Visions of him and whipped cream. There’s a new can in the fridge. I bought it for strawberry shortcake, but then we decided on ice cream instead. I slip off the bed and pad naked into the kitchen. The fire has died down, there are only embers left. Unlike the fire that is still raging in the bedroom.
I can’t help but grin, and I hide the can behind my back when I go back to the bedroom. He’s lying there, looking completely…debauched. Yep, that’s the word. Perfect word for the way he looks. "Do something for me?"
His eyes flash with…I can’t read the emotion, I think it’s more than one. "Sure, babe."
"Close your eyes."
He closes his eyes. I shake the can, and start spraying the sweet white stuff on him…his now semi-erect manhood, his thighs, his stomach, his chest. He jumps at the first touch, I knows it’s cold. I take a moment to appreciate my handiwork. His eyes are open, and he grabs the can from me. He shakes it, smiles when he hears that there is topping left, then he puts it on the nightstand. His eyes are telling me that I’ll pay for this. But not until I’ve had my…dessert.
"My Daniel Sundae." I giggle. I slide down and start licking him. The topping combined with the taste of his skin is a wonderful combination. I lick him clean…just like I had thought about doing hours earlier.
I start to get up, he grabs my arm, pulls me down on the bed.
"My turn," he says, grabbing the can of whipped cream. He shakes it, squirts some on my breasts…down my belly…on my thighs. He pushes a hand against my leg, forces me open. He puts the tip into me and presses …filling me with the topping.
Oh, wow, that is cold!
He leans over me and laps the sweet stuff off of my breasts…just barely touching my skin with his tongue. He moves down, licks my belly clean, my thighs. He’s never gone down on me after we’ve made love before…but he doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. He’s using his tongue to clean me…it feels so good. I’m starting to breathe heavy again. He makes his way back up my body, captures my lips in a kiss. He pulls me on top of him, keeps his mouth locked against mine. We’re sticky, our skin catching and pulling.
I pull my lips away from his. "Let’s take a shower," I whisper. I want the next…phase…of our lovemaking done with clean bodies. I must have some sort of phobia or something. Anyway, where our skin is sticky, it pulls and stings.
It doesn’t take us but a few minutes to wash each other, cleaning each other gently, thoroughly.
When we get back into the bedroom, I kneel down in front of him and take him into my mouth. This is how our night started, it’s only fitting that this next part continue the same way. When I look up at him, I can tell that he’s turned on, he’s not just hard, he’s turned on. I love that look in his eyes.
He’s ready. I’m ready. I suppress a tiny shiver of anticipation. I stand up and lead him to the bed.
He settles himself between my thighs, licking me, tasting me, teasing my sensitive bud, makes me jump. He pushes a finger in me. I feel him use my wetness to lubricate me, and he gently pushes his finger into my virgin ass. I jump, I can’t help it…it’s a new sensation. Just like before, however, I don’t find it objectionable. He pushes his finger just a bit deeper.
"I’m ready," I whisper. I want this. What an unbelievable slut I am.
I grab the bottle of oil. I coat him with it, trailing my oil-drenched fingers behind my lips. I hand the bottle to him, he puts some on his finger, gently pushes it inside me.
I get on my hands and knees. He moves up behind me, holds his erection and rubs it against me, making sure I’m amply covered with oil. He pushes gently, there’s resistance. It doesn’t hurt, not yet. I try to relax, know that it will be easier for me, for both of us, if I do.
"Relax, babe," he whispers, his other hand caressing my back, my hips. He waits, holding himself against me, just rubbing my back. His caress is welcome, reassuring. I can feel my body responding to his gentle touch.
He puts the hand that has been caressing my back between my thighs. His fingers search, find, begin to stroke my hardened nub. He remains still behind me…I can feel him throbbing against me. His fingers are doing a good job on me, he has me feeling good…breathing hard. He finds the right rhythm…my hips move to meet his hand on their own accord. It feels so good when he touches me like this.
I want this as much as he does. He’s afraid of hurting me. Afraid of the memories it might bring back. I have buried any memories of rape. What is happening now is love…the two of us using our bodies to show our love for and to one another. It has always been this way between us. I can feel him, patiently waiting. I force my body to relax, then I push back against him. I gasp when I feel him slide into me, know it’s just the head that has entered me. No pain, well, maybe a little, just for a few seconds.
"Are you okay, babe?" I can hear the concern in his voice.
"Yeah, I’m okay," I tell him. I’m breathing harder, his hand hasn’t stopped moving between my legs, I’m getting close to my climax, I can feel it.
I continue to push back, taking him in slowly. It doesn’t hurt. Feels…different. Good different.
Enough of this…let’s do it! I push back until I feel his hips against my ass. I hear him gasp. I smile, knowing that he’s experiencing me in a new way. He’s going to make me come…not yet, want to make this last. I move my hand between my legs, push his fingers away. I barely touch my skin, letting my body come down a bit before I start moving my fingers.
His hands are on my hips now. He’s moving, slowly, gently. A wave of new sensations floods my mind. No pain. Good. This is good. Should I like it this much? He keeps moving, my fingers have found a new rhythm. Damn this feels good. I can’t help but moan.
He stops moving. "Still okay?"
"Oh, hell yes."
I really need him to move in and out of me, faster and harder. I hear the hiss of breath that tells me he’s completely lost in the feelings my body is giving him.
Suddenly I’m there, my body convulses, I quake to my very core. I cry out his name as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me. I need him to move…tell him I need it faster…harder.
I move back against him, rubbing my body against his, wanting, needing him to take his pleasure from me. He’s thrusting harder and deeper, I can feel how hard he is, can feel him throbbing. It feels good…should I like it this much? He cries out…my name echoes around us.
He’s holding me close, I’m laying with my head on his shoulder. I feel the most comfortable this way. I’m tired. A little sore. Not that I’ll ever admit that to him. He was so upset when he found a little blood when he pulled out of me. I kissed him and told him that everything was okay. He washed me so tenderly when we took our shower…a longer one. He held a warm cloth against me for several long minutes, that helped a lot. I can’t get away from my upbringing, which says that my behavior tonight, and the fact that I enjoyed it, makes me a slut. He laughed when I asked him if he thought I was a slut, because I did enjoy what we did. He told me that nothing we do to show our love for one another could ever make me a slut. He made me smile. Made me feel good. I've always thought that when a man and a woman loved each other, they should be able to do whatever made them happy. As long as he loves me, I don’t care who thinks what about me.
He’s pulling me closer. He’s so warm, and solid, and I love him so much it hurts. I close my eyes. I’m safe. I’m loved. I need nothing more than this man. I sleep, dreams of his eyes, and his smile, dancing in my head.
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