| “Tangled” by Sep *** Honor and love to Travis. *** Part 10 She walked backward into her room, and he followed, trailing the blanket behind him for a moment and smiling all the while, curious as to her movements. In that moment, she loved him from head to toe as his expressions went from child-like to almost a sad, desperate desire. As they stood there, his hand ran once more over the soft material that held her body. The gentle swell of her breasts was intriguing to him, and most definitely arousing. He didn't feel as if he could stand much more, and there was that instinct, that animal feeling again. It surged and threatened to overpower any control he had. As he touched her, his hand wandered down, past the little catch in the front of that piece above, down over the softness of her, and around, feeling the softness of her hair against her back as once more he captured her and brought her near. He could again hear his own breath coming slow and deep. It was something utterly new to him and still, when her hand moved up under his shirt, the feeling it stirred within was an ache that demanded attention. He stepped back just enough to lift the shirt off without any hesitation or speech. Her touch was more than any words could give him, and he followed her hand with his own until she was there, where either one of them could have exposed the unquestionable need beneath. Of course Jane was not blind to the press of his body, the male evidence that she found at once fascinated and intimidated her. This was John. This was him: John Clayton Jr., and she'd fought herself from the minute she'd laid eyes on him. Now he was here, in her room, almost naked as was she, and there was no question where things were going to wind up. She almost laughed with the joy of finally giving in, of knowing they were going to be together at last. As her hand fell gently on the lip of his pants, she looked up into his eyes. Though he had asked her to show him, she didn't know precisely what to do, or how to go about instructing someone who not only had never made love, but who had been away from all hints of civilization most of his life. "It's okay." He said, and then, God love him, he laughed. "I don't like clothes anyhow. It feels better out of them." She took his hand and led him, pulled him with her toward her bed and there she sat down as he stood, his waist almost level to her lips. Oh, she thought, to rest there and smell him, inhale him and touch the perfection of each and every curve. He pulled her head against him there as if reading her very thoughts. Her lips traced the outline of his muscles, honed from all the years he spent doing things she could never imagine, living high in the trees, free and wild. He moaned soft and gentle, and with a gentle insistence, pulled her hand upward enough to where she understood what he wanted. Clothes, yes. Not the best thing to make John happy just now, and she was only a bit less anxious than he was, but still she was trembling as her fingers worked the small button on the pants. To distract herself, she looked up along the rippled plane of his chest, but that was almost worse, for he stood with his head back, his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed, as he waited for that freedom. "Jane, please…" It was all he could say, and her fingers did the job with no drawn out reluctance. The loose and casual pants fell from him into a puddle on the floor, and she was faced with such a sight that she moved back only to get a better perspective and draw in the whole picture and when she did, oh, when she did, her breath drew in, her bottom lip captured between her teeth, and fresh tears came to her eyes. He watched her and covered himself only barely when he moved. Desire was evident in his eyes as he came beside her, that solid, muscular body of his moving with grace indefinable. "Jane, I want to know, don't be afraid. I'm not afraid." He shook his head for emphasis, his voice sounding so innocent, while that wild blonde hair fell into his face so perfectly. He mistook the moisture in her eyes for uncertainty. She reached out to touch him and shook her head, indicating that was wrong. "I'm not afraid, John." She said, and brushed that hair back to reveal his eyes. "You're so … incredibly beautiful. I could look at you…" She got no chance to finish that as he moved, somehow lifting her upward until her head rested on the pillows and he was half above her, once more taking her lips with his own. This time she moved against him, under him, with him, and parted her lips to receive his passion. When she pressed her tongue gently forward into his mouth, he hesitated only a moment, surprised and then she could sense, curious as he returned the move on his own, tasting her, moving breathless and intense against her as his hands moved over her body and made her want only more of him. "You are beautiful." He said as he pulled back, his breath heavy. "I want more of you." The words echoed her thoughts and she didn't refuse when he moved downward from her lips, over the curve of her neck and to the small rise of her breasts. Without pause for permission, he unfastened the little front clasp as skillfully as any high school boy ever had, and in an instant she was memorizing the way his lips felt against her skin as they spread soft kisses, more the movement of his mouth against her, as if he were tasting, upward and over her nipples, his hand following, exploring the way they hardened beneath his touch. He would kiss one, then the other, and watch. She could almost hear him smiling at the effect he created. When she felt his fingers slip inside the top edge of her panties, a little moan escaped her lips, and he looked up at her for reassurance. She told him in the smallest of whispers not to stop, and he didn't. He slowly removed the little material, snaking it down her legs and casting it aside. He touched her with all the tenderness she could have imagined, almost too tenderly. She'd have liked to open herself to him, a part of her longed to have him explore her there, taste her, and take her to new heights. There would be time for that later, she knew. Now, yes, now that they were together like this, there would be no turning back for either of them. That thought alone made her long for his weight upon her, and she pulled at him, urging him upward along her body until once again he looked into her eyes. "John," His name was the barest of sounds in the quiet of the room. He was smiling softly and the warmth in his face was enough to stir those latent tears once more, but she fought against them. "Jane." He whispered as he lowered himself to nestle in against her neck. "I waited. I waited only for you." "You don't have to wait anymore John, never again." The tears came despite her struggle. She wanted him in every conceivable way. It seemed there weren't enough places to touch him, to show him how she felt. Her hand moved over his back, the smooth hardness of his muscles as he moved, and lower, to find the hardest part of him as it pressed against her thigh. With her hand around him there, the sound he made was incredible. Soft and deep against her ear he drew in a breath as she held him. He moved, naturally, back from the intensity of her grip, but she didn't remove her hand. While she kissed him in the curve of his neck, and tasted the light sheen of sweat, again she heard him suck in his breath at the feeling it produced, and then naturally, he moved forward once more into her hand. Oh to show him how it could feel! She smiled against his skin, and coaxed him on with a new huskiness to her voice. "That's it John, feel … Just like that." And when she spoke, she paid attention to the fact that on his own he moved back and forth, lost to a feeling he'd never known before. It was too much for him to contain, to absorb. The sensory overload tripped within him and when she felt him shake against her, when she heard his voice catch as he tried to say her name, she loosened her hold. It wasn't a second later that his hand grabbed hers and put it back to the same place, in a silent objection. That need, the demand he felt inside was too much, and when she took him again, he cried out soft and urgent as he reached his moment, and she took him there with absolute intent and desire. He shook as he rested, half to one side above her, and in his eyes she saw so much. As he struggled to regain his breath she reassured him, and was rewarded with the wonder of his smile. "It's okay, you couldn't… I understand John. The feeling of that was too much. Believe me, it's all right." She said with a little laugh as another passing look of concern lit upon his face. "That should not happen?" He asked. There was a not of surprise in his voice as he moved down against her to where the wetness lay against her hip. She felt his fingers there, inspecting, touching and she knew, as part of his instinct, smelling and tasting the substance his body had produced. She wondered silently if when he was so lost to the world he'd ever had moments of arousal, moments when his developing body had seemed new and curious to his hands. A smile suppressed those thoughts, though she made a mental note to ask him some day. "It should have happened yes. Should have. It's good that it did." She wanted him to feel confident, and in all honesty she hadn't expected him to be able to control the overwhelming sensation for long. He always had tremendous control over his body, but paired with the emotions they both were at last sharing, it was too much to contain. She could think of nothing else to say, but felt that he was not upset. "John, come up here and kiss me. Please. I need you." He answered in a slow rise to her lips, where in his kiss she could taste him, and all that made her want to do to him aroused her mind past the point of no return. The floodgates of her passion for him had broken wide open and it was all she could do to not lay him down and just ravage him. Another small laugh into their kiss at the picture of such a thing made him pause and lay to her side. He watched her intently and ran his hand over her face as she returned his gaze. "We're together." He said again, and the most beautiful, devilish look spread over his face. He was like a child finally rewarded, hoarding some barely containable secret. "Yes, together at last, and I'm so glad John, really. I want you to know that. I want you to know how much I've wanted this." "Oh, I know. I knew." He tested the words, sensing they were correct. "I knew you did. You knew." His hand moved over her side, along the curve of her hip and back up to caress her breast, with his eyes focusing there and then to her face. "So we both knew." She laughed. "And now here we are." "That… it wasn't…" "Wasn't what?" "It wasn't," He looked away, almost in an embarrassed way and then back up to her. "It wasn't making love. I didn't do it the right way." "John, honey…" She didn't laugh, but touched him tenderly. "You will. Trust me. When you say I knew we'd be together, you are right. I've thought about this more than I want to tell you, and you will. We will. What happened, it was exciting too, to feel you that way, so hard and ready." "It was?" The look on his face went from bashful into a full smile of half-amused confidence. "Yeah." He nodded. "It was." "It was!" She laughed. "But you want to make love?" "Yes, make love. I want you inside me." Her eyes fixed on his as those words came slowly. She wanted him to understand everything. |