Thursday, December 25, 2014

A Bucky Barnes Lemon -- Sleepless People

Character: Bucky Barnes

Fandom: The Avengers / Captain America

OC: Aeriell, curly red hair and hazel eyes, impulsive, optimistic

Inspiration: Chinese Takeout.  Those fortunes are actually real, I looked them up cause I couldn’t think of anything.  They fit so perfectly that I had to use them ;3  Oh and Merry Christmas!!

Stark Tower is always busy.  There are always people bustling about and agents going here and there.  Tony Stark is always somewhere in the vicinity, ready to drop down to take you unawares just to prove that he can.  It’s always busy.  That’s why, tonight, Aeriell is so very surprised to find that it isn’t.
Perhaps surprised is not the right word.  She is surprised, surely, because it isn’t often that the Tower is empty.  But she is also wary.  Her agent background has given her little opportunity to relax and as a result, she is attentive and perched at the edge of her seat.  And, of course, she is also feeling hesitant because of one other reason: Bucky Barnes is sitting across from her and being so close to him makes it difficult for her to breathe.
They’re eating enough take-out for a group of six, at least, because of course Aeriell had thought that there would be six.  Bucky doesn’t say anything, as per usual, though he has taken his mask off so as to eat.  She finds that he is surprisingly good at using chopsticks.  The thought escalates and she wonders what else those fingers of his are good at.  And of course she makes herself blush from the shame of thinking about something like that when she’s only a few feet away from the man in question.  She often does this to herself.
“Wonder when they’ll be back,” she muses, trying to get her thoughts as far away from Bucky’s unexplored sexual talents as possible.  He raises his eyes to hers and for a moment she finds herself utterly lost to their darkness, the way they seem to pluck her right out of her seat and drag her closer.  It is thrilling, looking into those eyes of his, especially when the rest of his face smoothes their color out and turns them into a dominant winter sky, all gray and turbulent but somehow still blue.
He grunts.  Bucky isn’t a man of many words.  He’s quiet.  That’s how he was trained to be, brainwashed to be, and that’s how he is now.  Aeriell has always wondered at that, at the type of man he was before the tragedy struck.  She has always wanted to ask him about his life but found she never could.  For some reason, as of late, it seems like Bucky has been avoiding her where he wouldn’t before.  She is just surprised that he hasn’t left now, even though he looks highly uncomfortable.
She feels her heart clench at the thought.  If he truly doesn’t want to be around her then it’s not like he has to force himself.  Stark Tower is very safe and she is a trained agent who can protect herself and has many times in the past before she’d met him.  So she decides to just spare them both the continued awkwardness and sighs, glancing down at her uneaten plate of food. 
The dreary sound has Bucky looking over at her, though she doesn’t notice the way his eyes are crinkling at the edges with displaced, overflowing emotion.  She also doesn’t know that this sort of thing has been happening quite a lot to him lately, this overabundance of affection.  And whenever she’s in the same room it all raises up within Bucky and threatens to pour through all his carefully built barriers like a deluge of rainwater.
“You know,” she begins slowly, not allowing herself to look up and meet his gaze.  She feels it on her, knows he’s watching her, waiting for her.  But looking at him would ruin her.  Her words would fail.  They always do when he’s near, and she always turns into a stumbling mess.  She is not proud of that mess – she’s an important, dignified agent – but she can’t help herself.
She twirls some Lo Mein around her chopsticks idly, and murmurs, “You can leave.  If you want.  You look tired.  I think I might head back to my apartment anyway, so you don’t have to worry about – “
“You’re a woman,” he blurts out without thought, and Aeriell frowns in confusion and finally looks up at him, because she’s got absolutely no idea where he’s going with that.  She’s grateful that he seems to have realized such a fact, at least.  Even so, she raises her eyebrows with only the smallest shred of amusement (the smallest, really), and asks, “What?”
It’s obviously not what he’d meant to say.  She has never seen him blush before but Christ it’s adorable.  She watches that slight redness spread over his cheeks with such fascination that Bucky no doubts is yearning for his mask right about now.  He clears his throat and grips his chopsticks a little too hard.  “I can’t leave a woman all alone like that.  I should at the very least walk you home.”  His words are hesitant, almost reluctant, and a little bit confused as well, as if he doesn’t know why he’s saying what he’s saying. 
It leaves Aeriell baffled for a number of reasons.  One, because she hadn’t known he cared that much about her wellbeing.  Two, because it sounds so old fashioned, but then again he is old fashioned and she often forgets about that little fact.  And it’s not as if he’s undermining her or anything (despite the way her feminist sides rears its head in protest) but she’s just not used to a man being so concerned about her walking home by herself. 
She’s been doing just that for years and there hasn’t been a problem.  New York City at night is pretty much the same as it is in the daytime.  The lights never darken and there are always sleepless people.  It is an enormous mass of breathing, living space that never tires and never stops, and she’s never had any trouble before.  But hearing him worry about her makes her warm in places she hadn’t even known about, and despite the fact that she’d like to tell him she can hold her own thank you very much, she can’t bring herself to.
“Oh,” she says, then bites her bottom lip because fuck it all, is that the only thing she can say?  But being around him makes her feel like a young girl.  Perhaps it’s because technically she is a young girl in comparison, if you think about it.  She doesn’t particularly like to think about it though and just clears her throat, reaches for the take-out containers, and starts closing them up.  After a brief moment, he helps.  They work in a strange but lovely, companionable silence for a moment, and then she stands up and nods, “I live close by.  A five minute walk.  You don’t have to come, it’s a safe neighborhood – “
“Let’s go,” he cuts in, reaching for his coat.  She flounders momentarily because she’s really not good at this – crushing on someone that is – especially when that someone is so emotionless that she can’t ever understand him.  Before she knows what’s happening, Bucky is suddenly beside her, holding up her jacket and looking down at her with those dark and fathomless eyes. 
She swallows, glances at him, and turns around to let him help her into her coat.  It’s an odd feeling, standing so close to him, but also thrilling and inspiring.  His fingers linger very briefly by her neck, brushing just slightly against her warm skin.  His calloused fingertips force shivers down her spine.  She would like nothing better than to turn in his arms and kiss over those fingers, drag her tongue over them and feel just how rough they are.  She doesn’t and he pulls away.
Minutes later they’re stepping onto the windy streets of New York City.  Aeriell rarely bothers with the subway since her apartment is only a few blocks away, so they simply begin to walk down the sidewalk.  They both silently admire the Christmas charm that has taken a hold of the city.  The lights and the store windows and the Santas who stand on every corner with their charity bells and baskets.  She stuffs her fingers into her pockets because it’s cold, and surprises herself when her fingers brush over the fortune cookies she vaguely remembers putting there own her way back to Stark Tower.
She draws one out and sends Bucky a smile.  He doesn’t smile back of course, but his eyes do squint with confusion.  The confusion passes away when she hands him the fortune cookie, and they pause briefly at an intersection while the cars and taxis hurry by.
“Here, open yours up,” Aeriell tells him, focusing on her fortune cookie.  He doesn’t, at first.  Instead he watches her open hers.  He watches the way the lights of New York saunter over her face and brighten it.  He watches the way her eyes light up with eagerness as she unravels the little scroll of paper.  He watches the way she hungrily reads it, devouring the words with that playful gaze of hers.  Then she looks up at him and her eyes careen breathlessly into his, and Bucky can suddenly only stand there on the side of the street and stare.  What would she do is he were to push her up against the wall?  Devour her just as hungrily as she’d devoured those words.
“Go on,” she tells him teasingly, and nods to the fortune cookie he’d forgotten all about.  He looks at it now and swallows back all those desires, all those emotions that he must keep hidden, because surely a woman like her couldn’t be interested in a brainwashed emotion-impaired psychopath like him.  He unwraps it, unfolds the paper, and reads the words.  The sentence that greets him hits him shockingly close to home. 
Traffic stops and before either of them can inquire about the other’s fortunes, Aeriell is slipping her hand around his elbow and dragging him forward before they miss their chance.  He stumbles behind her, surprised because she never touches him.  And even though this touch is nowhere near intimate, it still makes him breathless because it’s her.  She’s gripping him.  It is her warmth that soaks through his coat.  And that somehow makes it more intimate than anything else in the entire world.
They cross the street and he thinks she’ll let go, but she doesn’t.  He’s glad she doesn’t, though he’s also confused.  And pleased.  And oddly intoxicated.  Her warmth presses just slightly against his side and he can smell the scent of her shampoo.  And when she goes to wrap her arm a little more firmly around his, Bucky thinks that perhaps he’s stumbled into some sort of saturated heaven which of course he doesn’t deserve but can bring himself to care.
“What was your fortune?” she asks when they pause a few seconds later, because apparently they’ve reached her apartment building.  She stops to fish around in her purse and he nearly protests when she has to draw her arm back.  Thankfully he doesn’t, but he can’t deny that he feels rather thinly stretched, like all his emotions are mere moments away from tumbling out of control.  He sets his jaw and watches her, then clears his throat and rather reluctantly holds up the fortune and reads, “It is now, and in this world, that we must live.”
Aeriell is in the middle of opening the door when his words stop her.  She feels herself stiffen.  When she goes to glance at Bucky, he’s watching her carefully with those endlessly blue eyes of his and it almost feels as if he’s waiting for something.  She knows what she’d like to give him, but she isn’t a very bold person when it comes to romance and can’t bring herself to close the distance between them.
Instead she chuckles, her lips pulling up as she turns back to the door and steps inside.  “That’s strange.  Usually these fortune cookies are really vague.  Yours seems to fit perfectly though.”  She doesn’t say anything about hers.  She won’t unless he asks her to.  Truthfully, she’s feeling rather strange about these fortune cookies and the way their words seem to match them both so flawlessly.  It makes her just the tiniest bit uncomfortable.
She half expects him to turn and leave her in the doorway, having fulfilled whatever duty he apparently had.  But to Aeriell’s surprise, Bucky steps in after her and gestures to the stairs, obviously intent to walk her right to her door.  Is it a traditional thing or just him?  She doesn’t dare question it.  Saying goodbye is something she dreads, especially after the enjoyable walk they’d had.  It’s not selfish to want him to stay.
Her apartment is on the third floor.  They walk up the flights up stairs in utter silence.  Save the sound of their own feet and the wind howling outside the rickety windows, it is absolutely quiet.  She thinks that’s that until the moment that they actually reach her door, but as she’s twisting her key into the lock, that’s when Bucky finally says, “You never told me your fortune.”
She stops, swallows, and turns to glance at him.  Something in his eyes makes her feel out of breath.  She can’t place the emotion so she decides to ignore it for now.  Instead she just gives him a strained smile and pulls her fortune out, pauses hesitantly, and then hands it over.  Reading it out loud seems too intimate, even though in truth there is nothing intimate about the words themselves.  The meaning behind them though, has shaken her down.
He takes it with those slightly confused eyes, studies her face for a moment, then peers down to take in the words: “If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”  As she’d expected, they make him stop and stare.  The meaning and the emotions behind each letter twists over his face.  The words have a startling potential to shake him down, too, especially when he looks up at her.  He suddenly finds that kissing her seems to be the only thing he can think about.
It’s almost like fate has intervened and is giving them the go ahead.  But the funny thing about fate is that even if the course of it is natural and desired, people still fight it.  The crannies of it, the slivers of hope, the unrest, the altitudes of right and wrong, they all provide many things.  For those people who are in constant doubt, these things aren’t necessarily welcome.  And when it comes to Bucky Barnes, being in doubt is just another layer of confusing emotions thinly scraped over too long a distance, which seems to corrode right through time itself.
Bucky is winter.  He is the coldness of a first snowfall; the hollowness of the last.  He is an endless, starless vacuum of night.  Aeriell is springtime, hope, innocence, and all manner of things that he is not.  But somehow it makes perfect sense.  They make perfect sense.
He steps forward.  Slowly, gratifyingly, he watches her press herself against the door.  He’s not sure if the action is to move away from his advance or not but his worries are soon dispersed.  In a small voice that threatens to make Bucky absolutely crazy, Aeriell murmurs, “Are you going to kiss me?”  Is he?  Suddenly he’s not sure anymore, and yet at the same time he’s never wanted anything so badly.
“…Yes,” he tells her.  His voice is gravel and it’s coated with an almost husky passion.  It doesn’t sound all that different from his normal voice, actually, minus perhaps that passion, but it still makes Aeriell shiver brilliantly against the door.  The sight of her body convulsing into those little shivers make his clench his teeth and step forward again.  He has to force himself not to go too fast, not to just push her up against that door with all his strength and kiss her with that hard passion.  Instead he settles against her gingerly, pressing his chest to her and raises his hands up to cup her face.
His eyes lock with hers and his thumbs burn over her cheekbones.  She can’t breathe, can’t even remember what oxygen is or why she needs it.  She can’t do anything but hang against the door and him and wait, wait, wait like she’s been tossed into purgatory itself.  He’s taking far too long and yet she can’t bring herself to make him hurry up.  And when his mouth finally (finally!) slides over hers with that too-gentle touch, Aeriell moans and curls her arms around his body, immediately pressing herself against him as her body arches up.
God, he’s never known a kiss to be so intimate.  But as he kisses her, it’s as if she’s craning her entire body to his, as if he has moved something deep within her psyche that will forever change her.  It is delicious and sinful and luxuriously hot, having her moan like that just from his lips, with all that breathless, sensual longing.  And what had started out as a (not so) simple kiss has suddenly transformed into something much, much greater.  Bucky has a strong feeling that he won’t be able to pull himself away from her anytime soon, and indeed Aeriell doesn’t seem to want him to go anywhere anyhow.
Her hands have fisted themselves into the back of his long sleeved shirt, stretching the fabric just slightly over his chest.  The movement of her lips has added all sorts of new emotions to the kiss and it feels as if he is burning as a result.  When Aeriell goes to curl one leg around his waist, pulling his lower half rather adamantly and swiftly against hers, Bucky has to swallow back a stifling wave of dense, callous desire. 
His breathing shortens but he doesn’t pull away from her lips.  He does open his eyes to look at her though, and the utterly wicked expression on her face has his cock twitching as blood rushes down his body.  He doesn’t remember much of his human life.  That is to say he has remembered the important details of it, the big picture, but the little memories are still only slowly coming back. 
What Bucky does remember, perhaps because it has been ingrained into his being since birth, is his respect toward women.  Which means of course that he is all too aware of the situation they are in and of the fact that he is getting shamefully hard because of it.  It also means that taking her tonight, regardless of the many months spent pining over her, would be going against a very specific set of moral codes.
When Aeriell drags his hips closer and shifts her core against the slight bulge in his jeans, Bucky finally breaks the kiss and breaks a great many other things, too.  His hands slip from her waist to her shoulders and he pushes her back against the door.  He extricates himself from her hips with a sharp inhalation and rushes to regain his lost breath. 
Aeriell just stares at him hard, her eyes filled with confusion and something else, something that almost looks like rejection – and he hurries to explain, “We haven’t even – I mean, I just kissed you, and – for the first time, and I won’t force you into – “  Thank God she interrupts, because he’s never been so tongue-tied or embarrassed in all his life.  (Or at least the parts he remembers.)
“Bucky,” she drawls, and the sound of his name, all low and filled with such desire, has him swallowing and closing his eyes briefly.  All this emotion seems so foreign to him after being brainwashed for so long and he has no idea what to do with it all.  But she seems to know, at least, and he’s happy that at least one of them does.  “I want you.” 
His eyes open and he stares at her in surprise.  In his time women were much less outspoken.  But there is something in that candid honesty that makes him feel as if the very essence of himself has disintegrated into tiny little particles.  He likes that feeling very much, likes that it is almost like he is detached, that his passion is another entity in itself.
She runs her hands up his chest, his shoulders, down the length of both his arms, and finally takes his hands from her body and clenches her fingers around his.  Their clasped hands hang between them but it doesn’t feel like a barrier.  It just feels warm, intimate in that simple desire, and he likes that too.
“I don’t usually do this either,” she tells him, referring to their rather brash coupling.  Then she gives him a little smile and steps forward, brushing her thumbs over his hands and then shifting her fingers to his sides to grasp the fabric of his shirt.  “But it feels like I’ve wanted this for so long and…and it doesn’t seem all that sudden – “  She’s rambling again, and she doesn’t really know how to stop herself, and she would have continued to speak if Bucky hadn’t decided that he really wants to kiss her again.
He does, and the swiftness of his mouth as it descends on hers is startling and beautiful and filled with such yearning that Aeriell immediately kisses him back with mirrored emotions.  “Mmm…” she moans, and it starts back up again.  Her body shifts into his and he settles against her and their hands fly over each other.  And while she really loves being pressed so diligently against the door like this, Aeriell thinks that perhaps it’s time to make use of her very empty apartment.
“Will you come inside?” she gasps as their mouths split apart and Bucky’s lips patter down her neck.  She never wants him to stop, and he never wants to either, so instead of pulling away Bucky just mumbles, “Mm,” against her neck.  She takes his answer as a ‘yes’, because it would be impossible not to when his mouth is so provocatively burning her.
She starts moving around to finish unlocking her door, but she doesn’t get to.  Bucky slips his thigh between her legs and presses her firmly to the wood.  She can feel his erection bulging against her and she clings to him tightly with a fierce moan.  Bucky’s hands curl around her waist, but they don’t settle on her body.  Instead he reaches behind her to the doorknob and blindly fiddles with the key.  Moments later they are stumbling inside and Aeriell is breaking into tiny peals of laughter because she’s never known him to be so impatient. 
He shuts the door and then almost immediately finds himself being pushed against it, and for a brief moment he thinks that this is all wrong, that he should be the one caging her in and not the other way around.  But when she kisses him again and runs her hands down his chest and over his thighs and – God, he’s never known anything to be so right in his entire life.
His hands slip around her rear and he drags her forward, then suddenly heaves her up into the air.  Her legs curl around his waist and their kiss slows, partly because she’s a little bit surprised by his move, but mostly because the atmosphere seems to have changed just a tiny bit.  The layers of romance, the dips and contours and beginnings and ends of it all filter away and then it’s just him and her, lovers-to-be hanging in the eaves of a very ardent affair.
He does not know the layout of her apartment, but he knows that her bedroom must be somewhere down the hall and so he stumbles in that direction.  He’s strong, his body corded with muscles from his training, and he stumbles only because he’s so overcome by the passion that it’s very hard for him to concentrate on anything else.  But he has to for now, and against her lips he asks one simple question: “Where?”
She knows what he’s speaking of immediately, because she is thinking about the same exact thing.  She drags her mouth from his to briefly murmur, “Second door,” and prays that he doesn’t mistake her words for the second door on the right because that’s the bathroom – but he doesn’t, and moments later Bucky is kicking her bedroom door open and depositing her right onto the mattress.
He leaves her there and stands at the edge of it, looking down at her and wondering suddenly what to do next.  He’s not a virgin (he doesn’t think) but he might as well be because he hasn’t done this sort of thing for decades.  Should he turn the light on or leave it off?  Did she have a condom handy?  Because he certainly is not the type to carry them around on his person like Tony Stark says he does –
Aeriell takes his hesitance into stride.  She shifts to the edge of the mattress and rises up on her knees, leaning over to flick the bedside lamp on.  The room immediately washes with dim light that basks over the both of them.  She shifts closer and runs her hands over his chest, then slowly slips her hands under the hem of his shirt and drags it up.  He lets her pull it off, lets her lean in and kiss his body, and then drags his fingers into her hair and tips her head back.  His mouth descends on hers just as her fingers slip to the hem of his jeans.
They’re stripped away soon after and he’s left in his boxer briefs, which cling low to his hips and do very little to hide his very hard erection from sight.  But he finds that he doesn’t care all that much, because that’s when Aeriell shifts her lips from his and moves them to that bulge, kissing it over the cloth and fingering him just lightly.
He watches her with increasing impatience, but can’t deny that it feels absolutely amazing to have her touch him like that.  The heat of her mouth makes him utterly crazy.  He’d very much like to return the favor but he doubts he’ll have the restraint that it requires tonight.  He also doubts that he’ll last very long.  It’s been a while since he’s partaken in sex and already he feels extremely restless and eager.
“There’s a condom in that drawer,” Aeriell tells him a moment later, drawing back to glance up at him.  Her eyes are big and blown with passion.  He stares at them for a long moment before nodding and reaching toward the bedside table.  There is indeed a condom waiting inside, but suddenly it becomes less important because suddenly Aeriell is smoothing her hands over her stomach and starting to lift her shirt.
He slides forward and catches her wrists with his hands.  “Wait!” he says quickly, pauses when he notices her raised eyebrow, and gives her a tiny little smirk that seems to surprise her.  Bucky leans forward, presses one knee on the mattress, and dips his hands around the curve of her waist.  “I want to undress you,” he murmurs.  The words inspire such sensuality that she can only bite her lip and nod.
“Hurry up then,” she tells him, sliding her hands up his arms to rest on his broad shoulders.  His eyes flash cheekily up at her and he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that goes right to her core and makes her pound.  He takes his time pulling her shirt off, unbuttoning her jeans, sliding his hands into the fabric of them and wriggling them off.  When she’s only wearing her bra and panties, Bucky runs his hands over her sides and huskily whispers, “Turn around.”
Aeriell takes one look at those eyes of his and obeys.  She’s not usually the type to follow blindly but tonight she falls into that role flawlessly.  When her back is facing him, she hearing a rustle of fabric and knows that he’s removing his underwear.  Then the mattress dips and she feels him kneel around her, his thighs just barely touching her. 
Something about the situation, about not being able to see him but knowing that he can see her, makes Aeriell ridiculously aroused.  She feels his hands slide up her back and shivers from the coldness of his metal fingers.  His touch settles on the hooks of her bra as he undoes them.  When he shifts the bra down her arms, he presses a kiss to her bare shoulder and then moves his hands under her arms to touch her breasts.
She shivers and leans back, sinking against his body with a whimpered moan that, if possible, makes him even harder.  He drags her closer so that she can feel his erection, bare and raw and burning.  His lips kiss her temple tenderly and she looks up at him.  His eyes are everywhere, dipping over her body, studying her breasts as his hands knead over them, and it makes her very delirious.
“Touch me,” she begs him, because she’s aching something terrible and needs to feel those fingers of him go to work and spin her out of control.  He pauses only briefly before obeying, slipping down her stomach and lightly dipping over her panties.  After a moment his fingers curl around the damp fabric to touch her more intimately, and when he sinks them gently into her core Aeriell feels herself shudder uncontrollably.  It’s absolutely the single most erotic thing Bucky has ever experienced, at least so far.
He turns his lips to hers and kisses her again, this time deeper, splaying his tongue over hers and tasting her as his fingers stroke her harder.  He adds another; she clenches her fingers around his arms.  He thumbs over her clit almost roughly; she breathlessly murmurs his name.  He’s so hard he can barely breathe, and though he’d like nothing more than to keep up this deliciously sensual act, other desires make him shift and pull his fingers away.  She whimpers at the loss but she won’t be whimpering soon, because he plans to fill her up so entirely that she’ll never be the same again.
He wipes his fingers on the sheets and reaches for the condom.  A moment later he’s unwrapping it and Aeriell is moving to face him.  Before he can stop her she’s shifting out of her panties and then taking the condom from his slightly shaking fingers.  Then she’s skillfully slipping it on over his cock and he’s briefly closing his eyes because whenever she touches him it feels like he’s about to shatter.
Aeriell moves back and smiles at him.  “Come here,” she says, and Bucky can’t say no.  He follows her, nestles himself between her legs, and leans down to kiss her.  Against the kiss he whispers, “I won’t last very long tonight.”  He’s not sure if it’s something he should bother saying but he figures he should at least warn her.  Aeriell hums and wraps her fingers around his cock, guiding it to her core.  As he pushes his length into her, she mumbles, “Me neither.”  And it’s true; she can’t remember a time where she’d been as aroused as she is now.
He sinks into her with a sigh and a throaty moan, holds his arms above her head, and immediately starts off at a pace that makes her feel miles from earth.  It’s phenomenal and slightly faster than she’d anticipated but so so good that she can’t complain.  She wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him closer, lifting her hips with every thrust of his and melting beneath him with every hungry scrape of his cock against her inner walls.
“Oh God…” she whispers, careening forward.  Her back arches and Bucky’s hands caress a breast, in that rough-gentle way she’s come to expect from him.  He softly pinches her nipple and watches her eyes explode with passion.  “Bucky…!”  Her nails drag over his bare back, twisting shivers in their wake.  He can’t stop, can’t stop, he’s going to come, and then –
Suddenly Aeriell is hooking a leg around his waist and pushing him over, and he’s landing against pillows and mussed up sheets, and she’s tilting her body over his and lowering it against him.  Her breasts drag over the slight pattering of hair on his chest.  Her hands cage around his head and tangle into his hair.  Her hips shatter over his, dragging his cock deeper and deeper inside her with every forceful, chaotic thrust. 
And this, this is by far more erotic than anything else, and far surpasses all the other utterly sexy situations they’d found themselves in that night.  Because having a woman top him with such vehement dominance makes Bucky realize that it’s so much better than all the other love affairs he’d ever had, where he’d been the one in control and it was just the same, but for a different partner.
“Aeriell,” he gasps.  His hands curve over her rear and he drags her down, rocking his hips up with almost violent strength.  But it feels delicious, knowing that he is so desperate for her, knowing that he wants her so very badly.  And it makes them both splinter off into their finishes with barely any preamble.  But that’s okay because love has no preamble.  It hits suddenly and impulsively.  It lingers like a long winter getting ready for spring.
“Oh!” Aeriell cries, and her body twists up so beautifully that Bucky can only stare and follow after.  He watches her arch and toss her head back, watches her thrust her breasts forward, watches her hips nimble over his with such speed that he thinks he’s going to die.  But he doesn’t die, he just lives, lives and breathes and comes and pants, and when it’s all over he lies there underneath her and chuckles.  Because when he thinks about it, this was just what he needed to rid himself of all those pent up emotions.  He feels like a new person.
Aeriell hears his chuckle and looks down at her.  She brushes her fingers over his forehead and presses a kiss against his skin.  Bucky sighs in absolute satisfaction and wraps his arms around her waist.  When he sees the question in her eyes, he mutters, “That’s just what I needed.”  But even as he says it he realizes that sex itself wasn’t what he needed: she was.  It wouldn’t have been the same if it hadn’t been with her.
He rolls them over and tucks her into his side.  “You.  I needed you.”  The confession is soft, and hard, and all things in between, but Aeriell feels herself grow warm from his words.  She nestles closer then leans up to capture his mouth with hers.  Into the strangely deep, emotional kiss, she playfully laughs, “Oh?  Is that all then?  Now that you’ve had me you don’t need me anymore?”  The question is partly joking, partly serious.  Bucky sees right through it.
He rolls her all the way over and settles against her once more, kissing her roughly with the intention of showing her how much he really does need her.  Still, to make sure she wholly understands, he chuckles, “You know that’s not true.” 
His lips sink to other parts of her body, intent this time to discover more of her, to continue on at a slower, more temperate pace perfect for exploration.  She proceeds to melt all over again. 


Monday, December 22, 2014

A Kíli Lemon -- O'er Mountains

Character: Kíli 

Fandom: The Hobbit

OC: Shinny, petit, black hair, green eyes, forgetful

Inspiration: Whiteout Winter Storm Watch.  I forbid Kíli to die.  It doesn't happen.  Nope, I refuse to allow it!

Freezing to death in a snow storm wasn’t exactly Shinny’s idea of a fruitful day.  But someone had the watch the borders of Erebor and she had joined the Royal Guard because she’d wanted to be the one to do it.  She wouldn’t complain.  Though her companion seemed to have a penchant for it.
Thus far, the prince had spat curse after curse after curse into the air, kicking at the snow drifts and trudging ahead of her with his shoulders hunched.  Shinny knew he wasn’t being childish (not really) – the dwarf had been through much worse on the quest to retake the Mountain over a year before.  But apparently he didn’t much like snow storms.  Well, neither did she.  Her fingers had started turning blue about an hour ago and her toes were past numb.  She suspected her other extremities were just as bad.
At least Kíli had the energy to spout those colorful swears.  He plowed on ahead of her as if nothing was the matter, as if he was perfectly fine.  And with every forceful step, he left his companion a little further behind.  She hardly noticed, though.  For a long time now, Shinny had kept her eyes to the ground.  Her body was sluggish and exhausted and she was only concerned, now, about tripping and not having the soul to get back up.
It was in this condition that Kíli found her in several minutes later, when he suddenly appeared before her with a wild and concerned look in his eye as if he thought he’d lost her.  He did think that, in fact, and couldn’t shake the tremor of fright that had rocked through him when he’d looked behind and couldn’t see her.
“Mahal, we need to find shelter.  You’re freezing to death,” he muttered, then raised his hands to cup her cheeks.  Her eyelashes were covered with snowflakes.  They fluttered as she peered blindly up at him, as though confused as to his presence.  Kíli swallowed back a wave of panic and took her arm, leading her through the snow at a faster pace.  He was practically dragging her along, but she didn’t complain.  He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
It seemed to Kíli that they had walked for ages before they stumbled upon a cave.  Such natural dwellings were scattered across the country, but they were hard to find in elements such as these.  The snow was so thick that Kili could hardly see three feet in front of him.  He dragged Shinny into the cave and they careened down upon the rock floor together, having tripped on the rocky entrance.  Speaking of, they were entirely too close to said entrance, but Kíli paused several seconds longer than necessary before moving her. 
He had always been attracted to her.  He hadn’t known it at first.  She was not bred of any startling beauty.  Her face was plainer than some, but held a curiosity that amused and captivated him.  That, and her determination to join the Royal Guard had made him notice her.  It also helped that she was stubborn enough to persevere, to show the others that she could and would succeed.  Since joining, he had watched her every day, sparred with her too at times, and followed her progression and improvement through the ranks.  It had fascinated him.
And now here they were, unwittingly cuddled up to one another while the snowy winds blaze over their bare faces, their arms slung haphazardly over the other’s body, their faces mere inches away.  Kíli cleared his throat and pulled back, ignoring the boyish blush that had captured his face.  The rush of blood against his freezing skin made him feel oddly flushed and burning.  It was a pleasant feeling in all this cold.
He dragged Shinny to the center of the cave, then crouched down for a moment as he decided upon what to do next.  His eyes were naturally accustomed to the darkness and he could clearly see the back wall of the cave even though it was at least ten feet away.  In his examination of it, he caught sight of a pile of old firewood that some adventurer must have left behind. 
The sight of it made his heart leap with relief.  Mere moments later Kili was gathering it all in the center of the cave and easily lighting it.  The wood was extremely dry and Dwarves had a natural penchant for creating fire.  Soon, there was an adequate blaze and Kíli could turn his attention to other matters.
The sudden light from the fire must have struck something in Shinny, because her eyes flickered open just a little and she groggily frowned.  Kíli was immediately at her side, helping her sit up and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.  The action was strangely intimate, though neither commented on it.  Kíli, because he was rather embarrassed at the fact that he quite liked touching her.  Shinny, because she hardly noticed anyhow, for her exhaustion was still fierce and her body terribly numb.
“We need to get you warm,” Kíli said with a frown, glancing down at his snow covered companion.  Her skin was pale, white as the snow that touched it, and she was shivering like a leaf in a hurricane.  Kíli knew what he had to do.  He just hoped that she wouldn’t think badly of him when she came to her senses.
He shifted them closer to the fire, which was steadily burning now with a soft warmth.  The heat wouldn’t be enough to help her though.  Kíli had to get her out of those damp clothes.  He crawled in front of her and reached for her thick fur cloak, hesitated just a moment to peer into her eyes, and bit his lip.  Shinny caught his eyes, looking a little more aware now that they were out of the storm, and nodded at him.  He bit the inside of his cheek and closed the distance between them, taking the cloak and laying it out nearby to be dried by the fire.  Then he turned back, hesitated once more, and cleared his throat.
“This is probably why they don’t often allow women to join the Guard,” he muttered to himself as he gathered a fistful of her shirt and heaved it up.  There was no point in trying to be decent about the whole thing if she would just end up dead come morning.  But Kíli retained as much respect as he could, for he was a prince and was raised by his mother to honor women.  He kept his eyes closed as he tossed the shirt away, but that was when a cold hand brushed over his, and Shinny’s hoarse voice came drifting haltingly over him, “It’s…alright, Kíli.  I know…what you…have to do…so don’t worry…”
He paused an extra long moment before shifting his eyes open and lifting them up to hers.  She was shivering even more now, but was looking better and better each moment spent out of that storm.  Kíli sighed and felt himself blush, for even though he kept his gaze respectfully raised, he could still see her bare stomach and breast binding out of the corner of his eye.  It didn’t help that he had a tendency to find her attractive, either.
“Durin’s Beard, you must think me without honor,” he muttered softly, shaking his head.  The shame that puckered at him was eating him alive even though he knew very well that this was necessary.  “Lay back,” he told her, then caught her with a surprised exclamation when she started to fall too quickly.  Her body was like a chunk of ice.  All flexibility was completely gone. 
He gently lowered her down, well aware that he was blushing wildly.  His bare hands were grasping her bare skin, of course that would make any respectable dwarf flustered.  But Shinny only gave him a tiny smile and whispered, “I could never…think of you…like that, Kíli son of Dis.  You are…very honorable in my eyes.”
He stared in surprise, for he had not thought she would have a response, nor indeed that it would be take such a form.  But his heart could not stop beating and his cheeks only grew hotter.  She thought him honorable, even though she was half naked and vulnerable.  Even though any lesser dwarf might take advantage of such a situation.  He could not help the small smile that lit his face at the thought. 
The smile remained on his face even while he began to undo the laces of her tall boots.  “I have told you many times to call me Kíli.  Surely you can afford me that luxury after I saved your life.”  The words were cheeky and teasing, a fine example of his humor, and it warmed Shinny even as she lay beneath him and watched him tug her boots away.
“You have not saved me yet… Kíli,” the words were a hesitant warning, but the sound of his name without titles made Kíli stare at her with a pleasant sort of seriousness.  Still, he understood her to be right.  If he didn’t get her warm enough she would die.  It would be inevitable.
“You’re right,” he whispered hoarsely with a frown.  He peeled back the layers of her socks and his frown deepened when he saw the state of her toes, which were pale and bluish.  With a startling reverence, he laid her legs as close to the fire as he could without burning her, and then moved back to her last article of clothing that he would allow himself to remove.
He did so with rigid motions, partly because his fingers were fairly numb themselves, but mostly because he was well aware of the implications of such an action.  Still, it couldn’t be helped: her trousers were soaked through and tiny icy particles clung to them.  Leaving them on would only make her colder, and so it was with a reluctant sort of eagerness that he undid the fastenings and slid them away, keeping his eyes trained to her face as he did so in hopes that it would keep some semblance of distance between them.  He felt rather ashamed that he was so eager to complete the action.  It was an inner war between his inbred respect for the female race and the lustful tendencies that often accompanied it.
Shinny was well aware of this battle.  She was cold, frozen, and felt slightly removed from herself, but she couldn’t deny that a similar war was waging within herself as well.  To have such a handsome dwarf caring for her in such an intimate way was almost too much to handle.  She would be lying if she hadn’t daydreamed of such things in the past, either.  Kíli was very attractive and she had often felt the pull of it draw her in, especially as they began to form a friendship within the Guard.
Her trousers were laid out with her other clothes to dry, and it did feel better not to have the cold fabric clinging to her skin, but she still shivered like nothing else.  Kíli was also cold, and damp, but to continue on would be to sacrifice her dignity.  He glanced at her and swallowed, tucking his frigid fingers into his clothes in hopes of warming them.  But after a moment more of shivering, he cursed softly and began to untie his own cloak.  There was nothing for it, though he felt vile as he did so.
Vaguely, he heard his companion sit up.  He expected her to move closer to the fire.  He did not expect her to go to him, instead.  But sure enough, her fingers were soon at his cloak and she was helping him drag it away.  He found himself surprised, because she touched him as if there was no reason to be ashamed.  It wasn’t helping the thin layer of control he had built up in such a precarious situation.
“Shinny…” he muttered, keeping his eyes firmly away from her scantily clad form.  She moved to kneel in front of him, baring her back to the fire as she undid the ties of his tunic.  The soft glow of the flames illuminated her skin gloriously and haloed around her wild mane of hair.  In that moment, he thought her to be the most lovely creature he had ever seen.
“Hush,” she told him, dragging the tunic away from his body.  “You are just as cold as I am and if we don’t want hypothermia then we’d better just accept the circumstances.”  There was a firmness to her words that made him feel better, though he still felt like a clueless, frightened schoolboy in her presence.  Still, he appreciated that she took control of the situation.
But when she reached for his trousers, Kíli caught her hands with a bright blush.  “I’ll do that part,” he told her quickly, though inside he would have enjoyed the feel of those fingers working at the leather ties.  It was entirely inappropriate when he could do it himself, and she nodded her acceptance and shifted away to give him space.  He appreciated that, too.
When the clothing was laid out with the others, Kíli hastened to reach for her warm fur-lined cloak, which was just dry enough to act as a bed of sorts.  He laid it closer to them and gestured for her to use it, and tried not to watch her adjust herself on the fur.  It was a startlingly erotic sight that he hadn’t expected.  He also didn’t expect her to glance at him as if wondering why he wasn’t joining her.  That would surely be overstepping the last of the boundaries, would it not?
But she only perched herself onto her elbows and said, “Come, Kíli.  Body heat will warm us.”  Once again it was said it such an obvious, logical way that Kíli had to swallow and look away.  He could not deny that she made a good point though, nor could he truly refute the fact that he would like nothing more than to cuddle up to her and press himself to her skin.  He did so, only a little bit reluctantly, and when they were all settled he decided that it was even better than he could have imagined.
Her arms slid around his middle and she lay her head down upon his chest, wrapping their legs tightly together.  The position was extremely intimate but absolutely lovely and far better than shivering in front of the fire.  She had been right, of course: body heat did warm them up.  Soon they were feeling much better, and even a little too warm at that.
He was a male.  Being this close to a female had consequences.  Being this close to a female that he had already admitted to liking had even more consequences.  Only minutes in, Kíli knew that he was done for.  His blood was hot now, boiling with a heat that he knew he shouldn’t have felt, for it was once again going against the boundaries of their friendship.  Then again, the moment they had stumbled into the cave, it had been one discrepancy after another.  The lines were already so far blurred that Kíli couldn’t even remember where they were supposed to be anymore. 
Shinny shivered against him and the feel of it startled Kíli from his inappropriate thoughts.  He looked down at her with a concerned frown and murmured, “Are you still cold?”  It was a rhetorical question: he knew she was, he felt the chill of her body seep into his.  But he wasn’t sure what else he could do to warm her.  Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  He could think of another path, but to go down it would mean an abrupt end to their supposed friendship.  Plus, he would be putting himself and his dignity on the line and he was afraid that she would think him a lecherous dwarf.
“What can I do?” he pleaded, rubbing his hands over her arms and back.  Her bare skin singed from the contact and she tried to hold back a soft moan.  At first, she was successful, but when his hands continued their accidentally lustful path over her sides, Shinny really couldn’t help herself.  Her body arched just a little, her covered breasts pushing against his chest.  A tiny mewling sigh trembled from her lips and all action stopped.  Kíli stared up at the ceiling of the cave with wide, surprised eyes and Shinny buried her face against his neck in horror.
She was fairly outspoken when it came to her feelings, but never to Kíli.  He was a prince and she was but a common citizen of Erebor.  The social differences between them were staggering.  Her attraction for him was forbidden and she hid it away.  She was in the Guard, under his jurisdiction.  What would people think if they were to have a relationship?  They would name her a whore and overlook all her hard-earned improvement and battle experience.  And besides, there was no way of knowing that the prince felt anything in return for her.  Which was what prompted her to immediately apologize. 
“Prince Kíli, I’m sorry, I – “ she didn’t expect the abrupt way he cut her off, and certainly not the manner in which he did it.
Suddenly her back was pressed to the fur cloak.  With blurry confusion, she realized that he had turned them over and was now hovering above her with a fierce, lustful expression.  His weight was urged her down and in the midst of it she felt something hard and stiff pushing against her leg.  She had absolutely no time to wonder at it, because Kíli was unexpectedly muttering in a hoarse, scratchy voice, “By Mahal, I can’t take this a moment longer.”  And then his mouth was hungrily taking her breath away.
She reacted immediately, feeling a shocking wave of lust deep through her body.  His lips were savage and deadly.  He kissed her as if he’d been waiting to do so for a very long time, and another moan leaked from her throat and Kíli swallowed it viciously.
“Kíli …” she moaned again, surprise coating her voice.  Accompanied with said surprise was a deep longing that made him press her down further, shifting himself over her and deepening their kiss.  The movement caused that stiffness to rub over her inner thigh, and Kíli abruptly pulled away as if he had been burned.  They both knew what his erection meant.  To her surprise, there was a trace of shame in his eyes, a shame that she would not allow to linger there.
She set her jaw and reached for his face, cupping her fingers around his neck and hair and dragging him back down.  This time, she dominated the kiss.  It was just as fierce as the previous one and even more daring, because it was also filled with acceptance.  When she went to wrap her legs around his waist, pulling that hardness directly against her core, Kíli absolutely couldn’t hold himself back any longer. 
He muttered something in Dwarvish that sounded like a curse, and shivers erupted down over her body.  His voice was perfectly voracious and coarse.  She’d never had a male lust after her so poignantly before and it was making her extremely hot.  So hot that Kíli could feel her pounding against his straining length.  It was enough to make them both ache.
“I want you…Mahal, I want you,” he whispered to her, dragging his lips away from hers to kiss a path down her neck.  She arched her head back and moaned, pushing her breasts up into his eager hands.  Kíli hesitated only a moment before touching them, and soon his fingers had dealt with the wrappings and were stroking over bare flesh.  The softness of that flesh had him growing ever harder.  He shifted against her core ducked down to kiss over a nipple.  Her reaction was instant and lethal.
“Kíli!” her eyes fluttered, “Touch me more.”  The order had him quivering against her, so caught up in his desire that he could hardly breathe.  Never before had he felt such fire.  Not even from the quest that had nearly cost him his life. 
He grinned ferociously up at her and huskily said, “I will touch you until you melt from the heat of arousal.  I will touch you until you can think of no one else but me in your every waking hour.”  And with that his fingers tucked beneath the underwear that still clung to her hips and into the wet folds of her core.
Her nails dug into his shoulders and she moaned, a long and drawn out sound filled with utter pleasure.  Her body rocked forward, pushing her hips against his hand and staring sightlessly into the darkness of the cave.  And Kíli stared down at her, thrust his fingers against her inner walls, twisted his thumb over her clit, and shivered from the starkness of her arousal and the striking way she wanted him.
Her eyes slowly adjusted as the pleasure shifted through her, and she turned her gaze to his.  His dark eyes were blown from desire.  The hunger of his expression was enough to make her crazy, but there was also a soft sort of reverence that settled upon the edges of that desire.  Her hands shifted to caress his face, and for a moment Kíli’s eyes fluttered closed.  He turned his head to kiss her palm, then looked down at her once more and lowered his mouth to hers.  The next kiss he gave her was slow but deep.  He drew his fingers away from her and ran them up and down her body, touching her the way he’d dreamt of doing.  It was deeply satisfying for the both of them.
His fingers soon returned to her hips, but this time it was to deal with her underwear.  The fabric was eased down as quickly as he could manage with one hand, and Shinny helped him.  As soon as it was off, she moved her fingers to his last remaining bit of clothing and slid that away, too.  And that was when their kiss dissolved and Kíli leaned back to look at her properly. 
She was lovely.  Her muscled, lean body was splayed out beneath him and he couldn’t look away from her.  She couldn’t, either.  He was finely made: muscular and brawny, which wide-set shoulders and a lush pattering of coarse dark hair that layered over his chest and trailed down his body.  His length was something she shyly glanced at, nervous because she’d never thought she would ever have the chance to do so.  When she turned her eyes back to Kíli’s, he was already looking at her and something in his gaze made her oddly breathless.  She was certain it looked almost like love.
She spread her legs around his waist and urged him back down.  He went, settling against her body and lowering his weight onto his arms, which rested around her head like a barrier keeping them from the rest of the world.  The feel of his cock pressing so intimately against her made her ache, but that was soon put right, for a moment later Kíli was slowly guiding himself into her. 
It was slightly painful, at first, but also strangely relieving, as if she had been waiting to be filled by him.  With a sigh, Shinny tried to relax into the makeshift fur bed.  Kíli caressed the side of her face and kissed her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth.  After a moment, he silently shifted forward and her breath was completely flung away, possibly never to return.
“Oh Kíli,” she moaned, clinging tightly to him.  He grunted and hoisted her legs up his waist, trying to get a better angle.  The action was successful and Kíli was soon sinking into her at a regular pace, his hips thrusting forward with an almost bruising accuracy.  It was enough to make him feel feverish, and yet this was a fever he would happily fall into time and time again.
“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered to her, catching her eye.  She gave him a tiny smile that broke through the immediate pleasure and made him feel ever warmer, like his chest was on fire; like his heart was in the midst of imploding.  The cracks of said heart shifted and he wondered if she could hear the beat of it, for it pounded loudly in his ears. 
Perhaps it was the sincerity of that little smile that brought it on, but Kíli found himself murmuring, “I have always thought you so.”  The honesty in his words had Shinny staring up at him in surprise.  He wondered for a moment if he had gone too far, if perhaps this was more casual for her than it was for him, but his fears were put to rest when she tugged him down to kiss him.  Against his lips she breathlessly whispered, “I have loved you for many moons, and thought of you often in ways that I shouldn’t have.”  The admission was surprising but utterly arousing, and Kíli kissed her fiercely as his thrusts quickened.
“Have you?”  Somehow he managed to chuckle in the midst of his passion.  Her words were carefully tucked away for further questioning at a later time, and for the moment Kíli settled with a swift, “You make me crazy.”  And she did, for he felt like he never had before, and his body was burning through his desire in such a way that he could not control himself.
Their lips moved quickly, sloppily perhaps, but that was all the better.  His hands shifted over her and he rather roughly clutched at her breast, massaged it briefly, then ducked down to heave her leg farther up his waist.  He was aware, in the back of his mind, that he was being rather coarse with her, but it could not be helped and she did not seem to mind it.  He was nearing what he knew would be a brilliant end.  His pace only reflected that.
“Kíli!” she moaned, twisting her body up into a beautiful arch.  He started down at her and set his jaw.  He could feel her pounding increase and it felt amazing.  He quickened his pace even more, sinking into her core with a deeply satisfying dominance that had them both crying out with pleasure.  Shinny was utterly lost beneath him, her eyes wide and sightless as her orgasm suddenly lurched through her.  Her nails dug into his skin and she cried out his name, feeling it scramble from her lips again and again and she descended into a thrilling finish that Kili was soon joining her in.
“Mahal…” he muttered as he lowered himself down beside her, feeling completely fulfilled in ways he hadn’t known were possible.  His blood was like melted iron that seeped through his veins.  His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried, and failed, to catch the breath that had long ago left him.
Shinny bit back a smile and turned to him, easily wrapping herself against his body and turning her back to the fire.  She felt absolutely no trace of cold now, even though she could still hear the storm rage outside the cave.  There was only a contented heat that pooled through her and connected them together like lovers.
Kíli turned his head to look at her and caught her eye with a cheeky smile.  She laughed when he leaned down to kiss her.  She laughed again when he began to kiss her neck.  Her laughter only stopped when his lips turned more serious, and that was when she decided that she was still cold, very much in fact, and that there was really only one thing to do about it.  Perhaps snowstorms weren’t as bad as she’d originally thought.


Friday, December 19, 2014

A Spain Lemon -- Like Birds We Scatter

Character: Spain

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: Ice skating

You’ve forgotten whose idea it was.  Ice skating has always been such a terrible sport for the uncoordinated.  The day might have been salvaged had at least one of you possessed any basic knowledge of skating but of course this was too much to ask for.
“Dios mío, I’m freezing,” [1] Antonio mutters as he steps inside.  You hurry after him, eager for the warmth of the house.  The relief you feel when you kick your icy boots off is palpable.  When you go to take off your coat, Antonio is already behind you to help.  You never tire of his Old World manners, and when he goes to wrap his arms around your waist, you sigh.
“You are cold,” you tell him, glancing behind your shoulder at him.  He gives you the cheeky smile he’s so good at procuring and shrugs.  The movement travels across your form.
“Feel my hands,” he says, as if trying to prove that he really is freezing to death.  His fingers curl around yours and you nearly flinch at the icy feel of them.  Spain really doesn’t fare well in the cold.  A warm, prosperous summer country like him has absolutely no resilience to snow.  You turn in his arms and frown up at him.  His lips aren’t blue.  That’s good, at least.
“Maybe you should go take a hot shower and warm yourself up,” you suggest, tilting your head.  A fire would also help.  A warm dinner.  The list goes on and you are suddenly eager to make the evening as relaxing as possible for him.  But he only smiles, leans in, and rather randomly kisses your cheek.  His lips are like solid chunks of ice.
You cringe but laugh, because now he’s playfully kissing your jaw and your neck and it’s rather nice, the feel of those cold lips.  It makes you shiver, but it also makes a delightful sort of heat pool within you as well.  The feeling is so typical of Antonio that you sigh and snuggle closer, content even though being so near to him makes you cold, too.  There is only one real cure for warming this chill.  You think he knows it, too.
His fingers cup your face and suddenly his mouth is lingering inches from yours.  The distance seems so far and unconquerable.  You lock your eyes with his and press closer, gripping his sweater with desperate fists.  To say that you want his kiss would be a deplorable understatement.  In this moment, you doubt you’ve ever wanted anything more fiercely in your life.
The first brush of his mouth is sweet, barely there, and gentle.  It is the outer layer of him, the part everyone sees, the emotions people expect of him.  It’s pleasant but not nearly fiery enough, and the second his mouth tucks closer to yours you feel the heady sense of passion blistering through you.  His fingers tremble as he brings you closer.  His lips burn against yours. 
You kiss him back with everything you are.  Your hands smooth down his chest and curl around him, lingering and clutching at his back.  When you press yourself into him closer, the sudden sharpness of his passion presses back and you gasp.  The sound makes Antonio crazy, in a lustful, dominant way, and you gasp again when he bites your bottom lip and drags his tongue over the stinging flesh.
It isn’t enough, it never is, and while you could stand there and kiss this man for the entire evening and never tire, there are other things you’d like to do as well.  Other battles you’d like to win, too.  So you kiss him again then you slowly pull away, enjoying the way his lips follow you back until the last minute.  Oh yes, this is one battle you’ll very much like to win.
You gently push him back, stepping away from him.  His dark eyes are a lustful mix of predator and prey as he watches you, wondering what you’re planning.  He straightens his back and stuffs his hands into his pockets, turning to face you.  The way you’re smiling has him on edge. 
He knows you’re about to do something that will make him crazy, but nothing can prepare him for the way your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt as you lift it off.  Your body arches back as the shirt is stripped away and suddenly all Antonio can think about is kissing over that stomach, worshipping your skin, marking you as eternally his.
Mi amor…” [2] he whispers, stepping closer.  But you merely step back, give him that flirty smile, and turn to the fireplace.  “Get a blanket, would you?” you ask him as you start a fire.  For a moment, there is only silence.  But then Antonio chuckles that dark, as you wish chuckle and patters off to do your bidding.  When he returns, it is with a thick quilt that he quickly spreads on the ground.
You can feel him watching you, but he doesn’t reach out for you and you don’t look at him.  There is a thin barrier between you that you have cultivated, and it will prove useful for the time being.  When the fire begins to catch on and warmth starts spreading through the room, you finally turn to him.  He is sitting on the quilt, leaning back on his arms, staring at you with those delightfully dark eyes of his.  They smolder through the air and force shivers down your spine.
Slowly, you crawl to him, put your hands on his chest, push him back.  “Lie down,” you whisper, and the hoarse way your voice lilts with passion has him obeying, if only to hear more of those orders.  He’s never cared much for being submissive but there is just something so precarious about it now. 
He lies down and you straddle him.  Silence serenades you.  The only sound is the faint crackling of the fire.  The fire, which dances over his features and seems to make his desire stand out so brilliantly.  You smile at him and look down at the rest of his body.  His jeans are bulging and you know he is probably trying very hard not to reach out for you.
“Touch me,” he tells you, sounding oddly calm.  He slowly takes your hands and draws them to his chest, openly inviting your touch.  The action has you swallowing back a ruthless wave of warm tenderness and you cheekily murmur, “Well, if you insist…”  Moments later, his sweater is on the other side of the room and you’re hovering closer, gently kissing his skin and tracing every muscle.
“Mmm, Cariño, [2] you know that’s not what I meant…” he chuckles.  His fingers curl around your wrists and push them lower, lower, until they’re brushing against the stiffness in his jeans.  For someone whose supposed to be acting submissive, Antonio certainly is being pushy.  But you don’t mind.  You merely tip your head back and give him a playful squeeze, watching the way his eyes flutter closed.  The soft little moan that spills from his lips leaves you aching in the most delightful way, and you decide to kill two birds with one stone.
You replace your hands with your hips and roll them against his clothed erection.  The movement has Antonio gasping on the ground, eyes wide and filled with honest and very real pleasure.  His hands don’t seem to know where to go: they flutter by your hips, grasp your thighs, smooth over your stomach.  You stare down at him with so much desire that he feels himself getting harder with every passing moment.
“Is that better?” you ask cheekily, leaning over him.  The simple cloth bra you’re wearing brushes against his chest and his eyes flash.  Antonio hums out his agreement to your words and reaches up to unhook that bra.  The moment it is pushed away, his large hands are gently kneading your breasts, thumbing your nipples, drawing you down so that his lips can go to work on the soft skin. 
You moan and breathlessly laugh, “You’re still freezing, Antonio.”  The sound of his name, murmured in that way, makes him moan too.  He nips playfully at your nipple and laps at it, spinning his tongue around it.  At the same time, his hands reach down for your hips and he forces them down against him as he lifts his up to meet you.  The clash of friction is so delicious that you can hardly breathe.  You can only hover above him, one hand buried in his soft hair, the other grasping the fabric of the quilt as his scent, his touch, his eagerness surrounds you.
“Then warm me up, amante, [3]” he purrs, bucking his hips into yours again.  His erection has the potential to drown you.  Even covered by jeans it is so hard, and you can think of only one thing now, one thing that you know you need.
You pull away just a little, just enough to free his lips and to replace them with your own.  The kiss is deep, sensual, and makes him moan into your mouth in pleasant surprise.  And into it you murmur, “Help me.”  The words are an obvious reference to your jeans, one that Antonio does not ignore.  The next moment he is pushing them away, hooking his fingers into your panties, and smoothing them off your hips.  All the while his kiss drags you down and you melt against his chest.
The moment the jeans are tugged off, you are rolling your hips over him again, and this time the fervent pleasure that it brings make you moan and tilt your head back.  The kiss breaks but that’s okay, Antonio has other things on his mind now.  He smirks up at the sight you make, pushing your wet core against his erection like that.  He can feel the angry heat of your desire pound against him and it makes him rather insane, but he merely hooks his hands behind his head, content to watch for now.  It isn’t often that he gets to see your selfish side, not unraveled and daring as it is now.
You lock your eyes with his and slide your hands against his lower abdomen.  The tips of your fingers hook into his jeans but you don’t try to remove them.  Somehow this makes Antonio’s eyes flash with heat.  The slow passion that you demand is bewildering in its potency and he cannot decipher it.  But Antonio is rarely able to understand you anyway, and he usually doesn’t try.  It suits him just fine for now, though you can’t say the same for yourself.
Your touch shifts to the zipper of his jeans and you slowly tug it down.  Antonio watches with careful, dark eyes, as if wondering what you’re really playing at.  But you only raise your eyebrows at him cheekily and proceed to pop the button.  The layers of clothing are tugged down, just far enough for his erection to spring free.  The curled sight of it makes fierce passion rear within you.  You stare at it for a long moment before raising your eyes to your lover’s, who is still watching you. 
Antonio has pushed himself up onto his elbows.  His hair hangs in his face and his lips are parted.  His heavy breathing is full of anticipation, but you don’t intend on helping his dilemma yet.  That wouldn’t be any fun at all.
Instead, you lean forward, you hands shifting over the tops of his thighs, hips, and sides.  You shuffle forward until you’re hovering close to his face, dip your fingers through his soft hair, and draw his head back.  He swallows, his Adam’s apple strains, he stares at your mouth and you eyes which have the startling potential to burn him.  And when you do kiss him, Antonio can barely restrain himself as the apprehension clashes and grinds into well deserved reprieve.
“Mmm…” he gasps shortly.  He returns the kiss with a fervor of unrestrained passion.  His large hands clutch your hips and he drags them down.  The grinding friction of his core on yours has you moaning with surprise and pleasure.  His unexpected, insistent move has immediately consequences, though they all happen to be the good kind.  Very good, in fact.
“Antonio,” you drawl, kissing him firmly before ducking your mouth away from his.  His head falls back and he pants, his heavy breathing gasping and only getting worse as you kiss over his neck.  Your tongue makes him feel flushed and too-hot, like his body is nearing some obscure melt down that will both ruin and renew him. 
You nip playfully on his collar and murmur, “You’ve gotten really hard.  Does that mean you want me very badly?”  He swallows thickly at the tone of your voice and chuckles, a hoarse, breathless sound.  His response is a simple but effective roll of his hips, and you moan lightly as his hard length once more steals your breath away.
You’re kissing him with that dire passion moments later and Antonio is wholeheartedly kissing you back.  The floodgates have opened.  You are eager to feel more of him and you don’t have the patience to tease him any longer.  It seems that Antonio is in the same boat and is all too happy to accommodate, and when you push him into you soon after you both melt with relief.
Antonio melts all the way to the floor.  He lowers himself back down and drags you with him.  The position gives him more strength, and he lifts his hips into yours with such delightful fervor that you can hardly even breathe.  Instead you drown, sink into him, and let the undercurrent of the pleasure pull you under.
Your hips move in sync with his and it is beautiful.  Antonio clutches at your waist but he doesn’t guide you.  You know what you’re doing and he wouldn’t change one bit of it.  The pleasure that sears through his body is like no other, the extent of which cannot be seen or heard or felt. 
“Eso es todo…sigue adelante…!” [4] Antonio cries, his head pushing back into the quilt.  Other Spanish mumbles spill into the air and against your skin.  You soak them up, thrust ever faster, roll your hips and grind them into his teasingly.  Antonio blinks up at you through the haze of his passion and then suddenly chuckles.  You have about three seconds to bask in the confusion of it all before he is catching your wrists, hooking his leg around you, and rolling you over with surprising energy.
The shock that stems from this motion leaves you docile.  Antonio takes full advantage of this and proceeds to pin your wrists above your head.  He settles into your core once more, pushing his cock as far into you as he can, and watches the way your eyes flutter and your body melts.  He chuckles again, leaning down close to your face, and murmurs, “I can’t let mi amante have all the fun.”  The very brief explanation has you rolling your eyes and opening your mouth to respond, but you never get the chance.
Antonio kisses you, muffling your words and surprising you yet again.  But this surprise is by no means bad, and you find yourself smiling a little bit as he presses you against the quilt.  Your legs tighten around his waist and you rise up to meet his thrusts, letting the pleasure once again settle within you, but not for very long.
Your orgasm is fast and fierce, spurred on by the murmured, lilting Spanish that is pressed into your skin and against your mouth.  Antonio rushes forward as you fall, clutching at him and moaning a deeply lustful, “Antonio!”  The sound of his name has him grinding his teeth together and burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He is soon following after you.  As your hips tilt up and your finish slows, Antonio’s builds up and breaks.  He pants, thrusts harder, pushing your arching hips forcefully down.  The dominating movement makes your purr with pleasure.  You run your fingers through his hair and he lays his head on your chest with a heaving, satisfied sigh.  He stays like that, inside you, for several minutes more.
And then, Antonio chuckles.  You glance down at him with raised eyebrows, and he pulls himself up to hover over you.  His eyes sparkle brightly with amusement.  You brush a finger over his cheekbone and whisper, “What’s so funny?”  You don’t expect his response, but you find that his amusement is rather contagious.
“Ice skating.  We were pretty awful, weren’t we?”  His eyes flash as you smile, and he adds a sly, “Especially when you nearly knocked over that little boy – “ You cut him off with a well-placed hit to his shoulder and a laugh.  A laugh which he soon shares.
“Let’s never do that again,” you say with a cheeky grin.  Your lover hums and lays his head back down upon your chest.  You resume shifting your fingers through his hair.  “Agreed,” he mumbles at you, giving you a playful little squeeze. 
Beside you the fire crackles and its light stretches to encompass the two lovers, tangled together like lovers ought to be, skin to skin and hearts bared.


[1] Mi amor … My love
[2] Cariño … Sweetheart
[3] amante … lover
[4] Eso es todo…sigue adelante … That’s it…keep going…!