hell_in_highheels | [oom] New Moon

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oom,
ryan

[oom] New Moon

She's standing at the window, looking out over the Scottish landscape, watching the night sky. The moon is new, and without the competing light, the stars are spectacular. River kneels up on the window seat and touches the controls that bring the opacity down to zero. Starlight isn't as bright as moonlight, but it's still enough that she can make out the horizon. The landscape is stunning.

She settles back, sitting on her heels, arms crossed over her chest, hands rubbing her upper arms, smiling up at the night sky.

He said yes.

He said yes.

She can't help but wonder... What comes next?

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Her eyes close as she meets his kiss. Her embrace tightens on him at first but gentles as it continues, her body melting against him.

Breathing him in, she lets him fill her senses.

He pulls her against him, fitting her from against his own. He breaks the kiss to plant small, gentle ones up her cheek and across the bone under her eye until he reaches her ear.

He whurfles into it, ducking his head a bit to get at the scent pocket behind, where the pulse was.

She grins broadly at the whurfle, laughing under her breath, her head curling towards him. One hand caresses the nape of his neck, fingertips tracing spirals.

The feel of his breath sends a cascade of goosebumps down her throat and across the tops of her shoulders. She takes a deep breath and sighs, a deeply contented sound.

That's not a bad sound. There are others she could be making, though.

"Bed?" he murmurs before gently scraping teeth against her neck in little nips.

The question sends a shiver through her frame, the sensation only heightened by the feel of his teeth. Her scent flares with the wild hunger she feels for him. She pulls away just enough to meet his eyes, hands fisting in his shirt. Her voice is thick with emotion.

"Yes, please."

"All right."

The only warning she gets is a little mischievous grin.

Then in one smooth, quick movement, he's swept her up into a fireman's carry and headed off towards the bedroom.

Dom perks his ears as they exit the study. The alphas are being silly again.

"Richard!"

She barely gets out a gasp before she's upside down over his shoulder, her heels kicking in free air. She's grinning, laughing breathlessly, her fists pounding playfully on his back.

He practises his innocent tone. "Yes?"

Dom gets a silent greeting and then they're past the couch and almost to the door.

He has cause to move quickly.

He can tell by her scent she has no complaint. She loves this side of him, direct and unequivocal.

"I know where the bedroom is! And I'm not a sack of potatoes!"

"I am most definitely aware of that," he practically purrs, turning his head to nip her hip.

He's careful when he slips through the doorway to not bump any part of her on the frame. It wouldn't do to knock her out when the bed's right there.

He pauses just inside. "It'd be a shame to muss the covers. We made the bed so neatly this morning."

There's a little squeak at the nip. "Richard! The covers will survive. Put me down!"

She is laughing so hard she can barely breathe, squirming just enough to make a good show of it.

Dramatic sigh.

"If you insist." He sidles to the bed, then leans toward the shoulder she's on. With one arm up to control her fall, she slides off his shoulder and onto the comforter.

"Better?" His fingers trail paths along her legs.

"Almost," she purrs, pushing up to her elbows and inching higher on the bed.

She reaches up with a toe to pluck at whatever fabric she can reach, biting her lip as she looks up at him.

He sits in the little open space there is between her and the edge of the bed.

Is he really going to do this?

He twists, leaning in towards her for another kiss.

He thinks he is.

This kiss is a little fiercer than the last, and he pushes against her. His waist can only twist so far, though, and soon he has one leg on the bed so he isn't quite so contorted.

She can't ever get enough of touching him. She meets that kiss with her own ferocity, eager hands reaching for him, pulling him close.

She's not thinking about the bite anymore. She's thinking about how good he smells, summer rain falling on forge stones. She's thinking that a hundred years in exile was a small price to pay for the privilege of being right here, right now.

I never want this to end.

And then she's not thinking at all, she's kissing him and he's kissing her back.

He can't quite rid himself of all thought just yet. The bite hovers at the edge of his mind, just there as he distracts himself with other things.

Like her lips working at his and rolling her onto her back so he can get on the bed proper. He still ends up being partly over her, but that's all right.

...these clothes need to start coming off. He starts questing for buttons and zips.

She helps, and there's a fluidity to their movements, a few months worth of familiarity that eases their way.

Her hands slip beneath his shirt, easing it over his ribs and up over his shoulders, their kiss barely faltering as she pulls it over his head and throws it away. Her blouse follows suit, and then she's nuzzling his ear, kissing the hollow beneath his jaw, her hands stroking the bare skin of his chest.

"Talk to me," she whispers. "I love the sound of your voice."

"I hope that's not all you love," he teases, lipping down her throat and to her chest. He starts licking in patterns and blowing air across them.

"What else?"

She grins, shivering a bit, her head pressing back into the comforter. It takes a moment to find the words and when she speaks, they are languid and low. "Two can play at that game, love. Mmmm. I love the sound of your voice, aaaand your scent. I love your scent."

"Oh really. What do I smell like, then?" What does a human smell? He can't really remember.

"I love how you always look like you're up to something." He lips at a nipple, worrying it slightly. "Thank goodness I have a way to check."

Her hands are stroking his head, and her legs tangle with his, pulling him close. The feel of his mouth and tongue, the feel of his hands moving on her, all make her ripple and sigh. Every touch makes her hunger for him grow, until it's hard to breathe, hard to think. Words require thought. Think, River. Think.

"I am always up to something, love." She grins, watching him with bright eyes.

"You smell like -- a summer storm. Like that first kiss of rain on stone. Like you're mine." As she speaks, the touch of her fingertips trailing on his back changes as she lets her nails graze ever so lightly across his skin.

"Mine," he rumbles as her nails scrape across his skin. He arches his back a bit, bringing his head further down so his lips are lighting across her midsection. His fingers are rougher, calluses catching on smooth skin as he runs them over her.

"Yours," he admits a moment later, finding the scent pocket between her breasts.

"Yours, my love. All yours."

She loves the roughness of his hands, the scruff of his beard, the rumble of his voice. She especially loves the feel of his breath puffing over her skin as he draws in her scent. She continues drawing her nails over his back, a little firmer near his spine, a little lighter over the tops of his shoulder.

"I love the way your mind works," she breathes. Her tone tells him she thinks this is one of the sexiest things about him.

He grunts, more than a little distracted by the smell of her. He coasts up over her breast bone, pausing to nibble at where her collar bone joined it.

"I love," scrape, "the way," nibble, "you're so persistent." He gives her a sharp little nip, but doesn't move higher. Not yet.

She responds with a shivering laugh, a gasp and a shudder that moves through her entire frame. For just a moment, her nails dig into his back, and her shoulders lift off the bed, a throaty whine escaping her lips.

Her scent changes, anticipation fading, overwhelmed by a wild joy and the deeper, ever-present undercurrent of love.

Her eyes close as her head tips back. "I love the way you hold your ground," she breathes. "I need that, need you to ground me."

Edited 2009-05-09 05:16 (UTC)

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