fundamentally

As soon as they're inside she feels like she can breathe again and she slips out of John's coat, hanging it in the closet by the front door while telling Princess how much she's missed her and what a good girl she is. The cat weaves in and out around her ankles while Effie opens a fresh can of food and meows as though they've been starving her for weeks which never ceases to amuse her. Such drama.

John's icy touch makes her shiver and she lets her head drop forward when he presses his lips to her skin. She's tired, physically and mentally, and she wants nothing more than to shut the world out and be with John but she should have known better. Even safe and locked away at home where he can't see her, he's still there.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sweetie. I'm calm because I love being here with you at home where we can relax and not have to deal with anyone else. That's all. I told you, it's been a very long day."

"Effie," he scolds softly, his breath feathering warm across the back of her neck. John turns her then so he can look into her eyes.

"I'm sure it's been a very long day, but the fact remains...you can't live like this, love. Constantly worried. It's going to make you sick. Effie, please. Let me involve the authorities."

She can't avoid his gaze but that doesn't mean she's going to give in to him. Not on this. He can't seem to understand that she's far more afraid of whatever authorities there are in this city than she is of one man and she doesn't know how to get that through to him.

"He hasn't done anything, John. It's just a few pictures. I'm sure he'll get bored of this eventually and go away, I don't know why you can't --" she cuts herself off before she can say anything that might ruin the day any further. "I'm tired of this argument, John. Can't we leave him outside?"

He takes a deep breath, in through the nose and out again. He doesn't particularay want to have this fight again, either. It's clear they're at an impasse and he should leave it alone. He's just so terribly, desperately worried for her. He read The Sun, read about the stalkers of the stars. He knows how dangerous they can be.

But Effie knows how dangerous the police can be and she has a point. She does. He has to admit that. Police can be brutish, uncaring, lazy. Theymight tell her it's all in her head, he knows. There might be no point. And that would be just as bad as brutality.

By the time his breath ends ends he nods crisply.

"Enough of that," he said. "I won't nag. I'll try not to. I shouldn't. You're a grown woman. I just worry." He turns her to kiss her softly. "I just worry," he says, kissing down her neck- easily distracted.

She almost wants to cry from how relieved she is that he isn't going to push her any more -- at least for now -- and all the tension that she'd been holding onto as she was preparing herself for another battle with him starts to bleed away when he kisses her. All she wants is to forget everything outside these walls when they are at home. She wants to be able to close the door on everything that could touch them, everything that could hurt them. John is always reminding her that she's safe in Darrow, that things are different here, but she only ever believes him when the door is locked and they are alone. Privacy as the ultimate luxury.

"I love you for worrying," she says as she tips her head back and lets him work his way down her throat. "But let it go for now. Please. Let's enjoy tonight."

He gets to the collar of her dress, passing by the jewelry, and thin fingers pull it down and open a bit so he can kiss along her collarbone. Always feminine and beautiful yet modest. She was sexy without showing off her tits or ass in anything too low or too high. John marvels at how Effie dresses.

"I intend to enjoy tonight," he murmurs, moving back up. Up. Up to claim her lips. "I enjoy you all the time. Tonight will be no different."

And then he grabs her roughly and pulls her close, kissing her deely to show her he means it.

The unexpectedness of the movement makes her gasp, but he swallows her breath and she can't help but moan into his mouth. Into the kiss. All it takes to make her feel immediately lighter. Relaxed and keyed up at the same time. She never tires of this, can't imagine a time when she will, and it's what she's been craving since she stepped into the studio this morning and everything went to shit. Since the whole world started to feel too close, too intrusive. She wants John to make her feel right in her skin again.

Hands on his ass, she squeezes and pulls him tighter against her. Her skirt is cut too narrow to allow much movement, but he'll get it off of her soon enough and there is something about the restrictiveness of her clothing that she enjoys, particularly at moments like this. Something of that same feeling she had when she was bound by the ropes. Just remembering that night makes her shiver against him.

Fingers in his hair she pulls his head back, forcing his mouth from hers. "What do you want to do to me, John? Will you make me scream? Because I want to scream for you."

He looks into her eyes and there's a smile in his own, a crinkle of the corners and an amusement in the light of his gaze. It takes a moment for a slow smile to spread on his wet lips.

"I'll make you scream," he promises. He knows she likes to hear and he's come to find he enjoys mapping things out. It's nice to have a bit of a road map, even when spontaneity lets them go off track.

"First, I'm going to undress you. In front of the mirror, I think, so we can both enjoy it. I'll unwrap you like a present. And then I'm going to draw on you with my fingers and my lips and my tongue. Drive you wild. And when you can't stand it anymore then you...then you get to tear off my clothes. You can do whatever you like to me. Anything except making me come because that...Effie, I want to come in your ass tonight. No condom. I want to feel you bare. Wet. Filthy. And, oh, I will make you scream..."

It isn't just the things he's saying but the way he's saying them that makes her heart race and her breath catch. She can feel how wet she is already for him and she can't help rubbing her thighs together, the barest tease of what's ahead.

Her wig is powder blue, a perfect contrast for the shades of lavender and purple in her outfit and she's fleetingly grateful she had the time this morning to really secure it since she suspects this is going to be one of those nights when he wants her to keep it on. She knows he loves seeing her natural hair and her bare face, but it seems to her there are just as many occasions when her prefers this version of her. The one she creates. She doesn't mind either way because it's all part of the game they play. And she feels beautiful whenever he looks are her regardless of what she has on. But tonight...yes, it feels right for her to stay in her wig and her lashes. She wants to perform.

"You can have that. All of it." She runs her hand between them, cupping him, feeling how hard he is already, and it makes her return that smile of his. Her eyes dark. "And by the time you fuck me you'll be so desperate for it. I want you so desperate you can't control yourself. That's what you'll give to me."

"Oh, darling," he sighs, thrusting into her touch. "If you keep that up I'll ruin everything by bending you over right now and just pulling your panties aside and having you now."

That's quite a delightful thought and it drives him to kiss her again, tongue thrusting and tasting her, sucking her tongue, her lips. And then he finds the will to pull away and catch her hands to lead her to the bedroom where the enormous mirror features against one wall, making it easy for them to watch themselves any time they like.

"You're so beautiful," he says as they walk. "There's no way I can ever tell you that enough. I think it every time I see you, and I'm not exaggerating. You steal my breath, make my heat stutter. You're art, Effie, darling."

When she sees herself in the mirror she believes him. It isn't arrogance or conceit or anything as shallow as that. It's more that she believes in his image of her, that she can see what he sees when he looks at her and it makes her feel beautiful. It makes her feel like a work of art. And how could she ever doubt that he loves her when he sees her that way? How could she ever doubt herself?

There isn't anything she can say, no words adequate to express that to him, so instead she takes his hand and places it over her heart. Urges him to cup her breast. Leads him to stand behind her and meets his eyes in the mirror. Lets him see everything she isn't saying.

"My beautiful star," he whispers, kissing her neck but meeting her eyes in the mirror over her shoulder. His fingers find the buttons and zippers and hooks and ties and one item at a time she's stripped bare before him except for her garter and hose and panties.

Rather than touch her erotically then, though, he does something unexpected and he drags his nails over all the wear-scars on her back and sides where her bra and the seams have cut into her. He gives her back a good scratch and only once he's finished does he reach round to cup her breasts and pull her back against his chest.

Her skin feels alien when he touches the places where her clothing has left marks, like the sensations are reaching her nerve endings through a layer of cotton wool. It's fascinating in its way and she thinks maybe it's something they should explore more fully some time. Ropes or silk cords tied tightly enough to almost cut the skin...

He doesn't give her much time to consider, though, because she can feel how hard he is against her ass. She can feel his heart beating against her back the way they he's pressed so tightly to her and there isn't room in her head for other times or other games. This right here is all there is and it's exactly what she needs.

"Always yours," she whispers in response, letting her eyes fall closed for a moment and a her head drop back against his shoulder. They are so beautiful to look at reflected in the mirror but for a second she just wants to feel.

He meets her eyes in the mirror for a moment but then she tips her head back in pleasure and he smiles. John bites the junction of her neck and shoulder, teeth slow and hard so they leave little wells when he lets her go.

One hand slides down from a breast, over her belly and down to the well trimmed hair down low. One finger slides in to tease her clit and he puts his lips by her ear.

"God, you're so wet," he says. "I think I need to taste you, Effie darling. I need to tongue fuck you until you come in my mouth, bucking against me. I want to feel the way you tighten up before you unspool for me. Come on, lie on the bed and spread for me, love."

She shivers and opens her eyes for him, knowing he can feel her reaction. Knowing he can see just how much she wants him. Feeling greedy already, she doesn't want to move away from his hand but she forces herself to. Enjoying the momentary denial almost as much as she was enjoying the tease.

Turning her back to him she swings her hips and moves to the bed, crawling up the mattress on hands on knees, knowing exactly what she looks like to him as she does it. The image of him watching her with her ass up and perfectly displayed makes her smile and bite her lip. She knows what it does to him to watch her, she's made it as much a fetish for him as it's always been for her. She considers sliding her panties off but she decides against it, preferring to wait for him to choose when and how to remove that last bit of clothing. Instead she looks back over her shoulder and lifts an eyebrow. Half challenge and half expectation.

John watches her and for a moment he touches himself through his trousers. She's got him hard and aching and he could very easily take her just like this. Ass ready, offered up. He could do it, have her, have it over. But he wants her used up completely by the time he comes inside her so he resists the temptation.

He does pull off his shirt so he can enjoy her skin against his own. Then he crawls onto the bed behind her and begins to nip at her lower back, then he catches her panties just to pull them off her ass and expose her lips. He traces the shape of her with a finger before moving so he can tongue her from behind.

The gasp is short and sharp and leads straight into a moan when he finally puts his mouth to her. She grasps the sheets tightly and tries to brace herself as best she can. She knows it's going to be difficult to stay in this position given what he's promised to do to her and she almost can't wait until her muscles start to shake and her arms get weak.

Sometimes when they play she prefers to be coy or passive, letting him take complete control of things. That isn't how she's feeling tonight, though, and so she squirms against him, pressing back, taking exactly what she needs. If he wants to stop her, Effie knows he can, and she'll enjoy that struggle as much as she always does. But for now she's as selfish and demanding as she can be under the circumstances. And not being the least bit quiet about it.

He grips her hips and gives her the tongue fucking he promised, also spending time to find her clit and devote attention to it. She's pushing back, urging him on, and he likes it. He likes it when she's like this, demanding and spoiled and urging him on. John stops for a moment when he feels her clench, getting close. He stops then so she doesn't come and he begins rimming her instead, starting in on her ass before he violates her.

Nails dig into her hips and leave little crescents as he moans into her, his beard prickly and rough against the tender skin. SHe bucks back against him once again, he moans and cries going right to his cock, and he starts in on her clit mercilessly, this time intent on making her come.

Her arms are trembling and her fingers have gone numb from how tightly they are gripping the bedding, but she doesn't let herself fall. She's going to hold on and hold out and take every drop of what he's giving her because she wants it. Wants it so badly it's doing her head in. No games, no teasing, just him doing everything he knows to do to make her come as hard and as fast as he can and she loves him for it. Loves that he knows her body the way he does and claims every inch of it.

She can feel the sweat starting to break out on her skin, making her back and her legs slick and hot. Her face and chest flushed as her heart pounds. Her cries have turned into begging and moaning his name and she comes just like he wanted her to, just like she needed to, her muscles twitching and the air knocked from her lungs. Even then she knows this is just the beginning and it barely takes the edge off her wanting him.

He loves making her come. There's such power in it, playing her body until she snaps. He licks at her, thrusting his tongue into her aching cunt and groaning as he tastes her release.

Then he kisses up her back until his lips are between her shoulder blades and the ridge of his cock barely restrained by his trousers presses against her sex.

"Good girl," he purrs. "Now roll over and kiss me and taste yourself on my tongue," he commands.

His tongue reminds her just how desperately she wants him to fuck her, how much she needs him inside. But she can wait for it, she can hold out, especially when she knows how hard and desperate he must be. His self control is one of the most delicious things about him and was one of the best surprises. She hadn't expected him to love tormenting himself quite as much as he does, but damn if it doesn't thrill her every single time.

She's breathing hard enough that it's making her a bit lightheaded, but she does what he tells her to do. Finally letting herself drop to the mattress and crawling far enough up toward the headboard that she can turn to face him.

"Anything you say," she whispers against his lips as she wraps her arms around the back of his neck and holds him close. She kisses him deep and filthy and hard enough that their teeth click before she bites his bottom lip. She realizes she wants to push him as hard as he pushes her this time. Wants him out of his mind with need and the thought makes her aggressive. Makes her dig her nails into his skin and suck his tongue into her mouth as she moans for him.

It's just that little bit of aggression that drives him wild. She's gone from a demanding, spoilt child to a focused, driven lover and he loves her for it. He adores when she doesn't only take what he offers gladly but she takes what she wants whether he's ready to give it or not. And, oh, is he ready to give it to her. She sucks the taste of herself off his tongue and he's lost in the softness of her mouth. It rivals how sweet her cunt would be if he sank in right now- but if he did that they'd be lost. It would be over.

So he tears himself away from her kiss so he can devote attention to her nipples, sucking and biting and pulling at them with his lips. He moans and ruts against her thigh, his cock leaking in his pants as he winds himself up tighter.

Her back arches and she gasps when he uses his teeth. It's almost too rough and it's exactly right. The electric shocks straight from her tits to her aching cunt and she pulls at his hair even as she hold him tightly enough that he knows not to stop.

"Oh, John. You must be going out of your mind by now. How much do you want to be inside me? How much does it hurt to stop yourself from holding me down and fucking me with your beautiful, aching cock? Do you think you can wait much longer, my love?" The words come spilling out of her mouth and once she starts she finds she can't stop. The tension in his body, the way he's rubbing himself against her, she wants to push him. She wants to feel him snap. "Tell me what it feels like, John. Tell me how much it hurts you not to let go and take what you want."

"Oh, fuck me, you have the dirtiest mind," he groans. "I want you, Effie. I want to fuck you so hard. It's killing me not to. My balls ache and my cock feels so hard it may split. I can hardly wait. I'm going to sink into your tight ass and make you whimper and scream. THat's what's going to undo me. Your voice. Your voice," he pants.

He finally surrenders and moves off to take off his trousers and pants and then he's got the lube. As much as he'd love to tear into her he has enough sense to know there's pain and there's pain and there's pain which would kill the mood. Screams of pleasure are what he wants, not cries of trauma.

So quick fingers slick her and tease her, sliding in, one, then two. It's slow, driving him mad, making him want her more and more with every buck of her hips.

It feels like victory somehow when he has to stop touching her, when he has to strip off. But it's still not enough for her. He's too controlled, too careful, and while she loves him for that, tonight she wants to see him break for her. She wants to push him just far enough. To get him to that place he takes her so many times when there are no thoughts left, nothing but the physical need.

So she waits until the moment is right, enjoys the feeling of his slick fingers inside her. The perfect burning ache. Then she leans up and puts a hand firmly on his chest to hold him back before grasping his cock with her other hand. One torturously slow stroke downward until she's got him tight around the base. "Not yet, John. You don't get to have me yet. I told you I wanted you desperate for it and that's what I'm going to have. If you want this, you'll have to take it."

She can feel his heart hammering under the hand on his chest before she reaches down further and cups his balls and tugs -- gently, gently -- nothing more than she knows he can take. Pushing him just that much further. Pain and desperate need looking so utterly beautiful on him.

His heart is pounding and he roughly groans as he tilts his hips into her touch. It's magical and wicked and the delicate strength of her fingers massaging his balls is enough to take him over the edge. He savors it but a moment later he's got lube in his palm and he's pumping his fist on his cock. The slick hand pushes her touch away and then he guides himself against the tight pucker and he takes her.

His teeth grind together and his eyes roll back and slip closed as he sinks in past the point of resistance to the moment her body grips him and pulls him in. He's no less vocal than she is, moaning loudly as he's drawn in to the hilt. He's there for a long moment, delighting in the tightness of her.

And then he opens his eyes and levels his stormy gaze on her. There's an intensity there, a feral look of pure want and he hoists a leg over his shoulder so he can get closer and he starts fucking her with savage, sharp thrusts, just slow enough that he won't come in seconds.

Where she's usually pliable and willing, this time she makes sure he has to work for it. Makes sure they can both feel him taking what he wants. It's fucking glorious. There's pain, but it's nothing more than she can handle, particularly when he's looking down at her like there's nothing left in him but the snap of his hips and the feeling of her body tight and hot around him.

She's taking in short, sharp gasps of air but she tries desperately to slow her breathing, to relax her body and let the pleasure overtake the pain. It's not that she objects to it hurting -- to him hurting her -- and there are plenty of occasions when she might even enjoy it more this way. But she's nearly as desperate for this fuck as he is and she intends to come as many times as she can before they're done. So she concentrates on the sensations. The spark of nerves and the way he fills her, the way her body stretches to allow him in. It's filthy and hot and the harder he fucks into her the more her cunt aches and she has to touch herself. She's soaking wet as fingers slide through her swollen lips, the pleasure so sharp and immediate that she cries out.

There was a moment, and it didn't happen every time, when Effie would cry out and her voice would be raw and rough. Her cry would rasp and it reminded John of a woman he had once known who smoked too much and whose voice had a quality that even as a gay man it went straight to his cock. It was a whiskey-soaked, smoke-infused rattle that appealed to a very primal sensibility. And when Effie had cried out one time too many, when she came and voiced it there was that hiss of a static growl that crawled down his spine and grabbed him by the balls.

"Fuck me," he gasps in surprise and he drives in and holds her close, filling her as he pulses his release deep inside her. He shudders, his hips bucking erratically as he spends himself, and then he goes boneless and sinks down onto her. The angles changed and he slipp=s from her body indelicately. John lets her leg down and settles in on top of her, his head between her breasts where he can hear the steady beat of her heart. He can feel the way his cock flags and softens and for a moment, just a moment, he feels ashamed that he can't give her more.

He's talked to a man he works with about the pills the man takes and John is tempted by the tales of an erection that lasts even after coming. An erection for hours. He's tempted by that. He'd love to fuck Effie until they were both utterly wasted.

But for now he gathers his wits and kisses his way down her body, eager to finish her off with fingers and mouth.

Edited 2015-11-22 02:18 (UTC)

She hadn't been expecting it, hadn't realized how close he was to the edge. Usually she know when he's about to come but this time it takes her by surprise and she can feel that it was the same for him. Not that it matters when she can feel him hot inside of her. When his whole body is trembling and his skin is slick and she knows she's the one who's made him this way. It makes her feel so overwhelmed with love for him that it's like a physical pain in her chest. Holding him close, stroking his hair, letting him figure out how to breathe again.

There isn't any doubt in her mind that he'll make her come again before the night is done, but she feels...odd somehow. Keyed up and aggressive in ways that aren't typical for her. If she was willing to stop and consider it, she would probably realize it's the stress she's been under, the constant tension and fear, but she doesn't want to think right now. Especially not about anything outside of their bed and their bodies and way his skin feels against hers. Skin she finds herself wanting to touch every inch of. If she could, she would hold him down and lick and bite him until he couldn't take any more. She would tie him down and take his spent cock in her mouth until he begged her to stop. The need is like electricity crackling along her skin. A restlessness they haven't quite been able to satisfy yet. But his mouth on her cunt is a delightful start.

"John, don't stop. Please --" her voice breaks as he slides his fingers into her. "Like that. Yes like that."

She's so wet and her cunt isn't like her ass. It's hungry for him and one, two, three fingers isn't enough. He works in four up to his knuckles and fucks her at the pace her body begs for. His tongue flicks her clit and he sucks and suckles and hums his pleasure. He wants her to come so badly. He wants to make her come again and again, wants that raw edge in her voice, wants her saying his name just like that. He wants her to fall apart just so he can gather her up and hold her close and put her back together.

He's really not thinking that far ahead. He's too keyed up, too into the moment as he sinks his hand into her and laps the taste of her up. She's in his beard and he knows even after he cleans up he's going to smell her clinging to him. The very idea of that has his cock twitching with interest and swelling a little. Not hard but a bit stiff and still far too sensitive for him to do anything with himself.

She's begging, panting, crying his name, nothing in her head but nonsense sounds and the buzz she hears when she's so close to coming she can feel it in every muscle. Right down at the base of her spine, at the greyed out edges of her vision, until she's clawing at it, fucking down onto his hand, squirming against his mouth, toes curled so hard against the sheets it's painful.

When it finally hits her she can't help but scream, her throat raw and her voice hoarse. It's never gentle after the first time. There's always that slight edge of pain to it like all of her nerves are firing at once. And it's always, always good. Her legs are twitching hard and she can feel herself squeezing his fingers so tight inside her. Her hand is trembling as she reaches down and tangles her fingers in his hair and while she's sure she could go on like this for hours if he was willing, she'd rather be touching him. Tasting him. And so she urges him up, running her hands over every bit of his skin she can reach. "I love you so much, John. So much. Come here and let me feel you."

He crawls up the length of her body and settles in half on top of her. He kisses her lazily, his beard damp with her wetness. He's happy to kiss her, to soothe her. He's used her so roughly and now- now he worships her. Soft kisses, soft touches, caring for her the way he does after a night of rough play when she's all raw nerves and exposed soul. It's no different tonight; he's against her, holding her and loving her and bringing her back to reality.

"I love you, Effie, darling," he says softly. "I love you so very much."

Effie

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