Haven: Coffee Mug: Cape Interlude

[amichan]

We wind up sitting on the floor by the side of the couch, kissing, and I just—how is this happening?

“It drove me crazy wanting to touch when you scratched your hair like that,” she says, curling a strand back behind my ear again, “I'd forgotten that because you haven't done it in a long time.”

Well, on the upside that means I've been clean for “such a long time” but fuck. How many times have I been itchy twitchy around her and not even realized it?

“...Boss?” she asks.

Oh, shit, how to...? But she must, she has to know, right? Given what she said. I breath it out so that I can get the words, “I think...I hope I've told you...dumb shit I've done given what you...” I'm toying with my sleeves, but she was the one who pulled them up earlier to show me, and she didn't have to pull them up so far if it was just the tattoo, “earlier.”

“Oh, it's a heroin thing? That explains why you stopped,” she says, as nonchalant as if when I was talking to her about my plans for rearranging the kitchen. She knows—well, of course, that whole thing before but...okay, how long has she had to get over things even? And has things out with older me...? Oh, this is so fucking weird. She didn't run when she found out. She didn't start hating me. That's good, right? Not only that she still...and she knows all my other history too.

“I'm sorry I was so snippy back then,” she says, startling me.

“Snippy?” caught off guard.

“Testy, impatient, temperamental, spoke sharply?” she says, not going to clarify I knew that part of it but just was too lost to verify what she was meaning about when, “You were so...” she waves a hand slightly, “I now know it was the heroin and you were high, but you just seemed so confident and I'd just turned 16 and I was so afraid you saw me as an annoying, clingy little child...”

Shit. No. Stupid-ass drugs. So, nothing cements more that quitting is the right decision. If I can stop crying out of it and crawling back, “You're more adult than some of the...people I deal with at...work, and I...just,” I allow a slight laugh, “considering some of the—I probably deserve some ass-chewing, but...no, never annoying that I can think of.”

Suddenly her head is burried partly in my chest and partly between my chest and arm and she's holding on to me tightly, shaking. I shift so I can wrap my arm around her and hold her close.

“The bitches at school tried to make me think you didn't care. I was snippy with you because I was afraid they were right. So...I'm sorry,” she says, turning so that she's resting her head on my chest.

“Well, I've not been exactly the best at coming across with proof otherwise when I've actually been trying. I mean my best attempt at flirting with you recently sent you running for the hills...but I kinda figured my ass was just too wasted and disgusted you. But, no, the bitches are...were...are? Wrong.”

“I thought you were expressing affection in a little sister way, or you were too drunk to realize it was me.”

“No, I knew it was you...and I figured I could actually say things—but I fucked up. I was too wasted.”

“Mom would have cut your balls off with Grandma Carr's antique pinking shears if anything had happened, anyway,” I find myself protecting my balls instinctively, “But it's okay, because the shame helped give you the strength to get clean...and I know how much I mean to you because I helped you get clean.”

“Yeah...I've been trying to,” I feel still somewhat ashamed of myself but I also can't help but snort derisive, “but it...”

She laughs softly and runs a hand lightly down my chest, “Don't worry, Boss. I'm very fond of your package. And if you're going to say it's hard, but it was going to come out as a dirty joke. I'm going to have to tell you that I am completely on board with that.”

I laugh at that, “Well, not quite what I was going to say but that's good to hear. I was going to say...it's good to hear it works, and I mean I can see it worked; and thank you for not actually running for the hills despite all my shit.”

“Wouldn't run for the hills, anyway,” she says, still idly tracing across me, “I would steal your boat and head out to sea,” I'm treated to a wicked smile, “Maybe keep you on board as my gypsy love slave.”

All this is hiding behind Julia who helps me scrape ragged paint strips off the wooden parts of the Cape and carries pallets and tools and equipment without complaint. Damn, “Wickedest wench on the high seas.”

“Damn straight. Pirate-Queen Julia off to seek her fortune,” she says, there's silence for a while, stretching out like the band that was at one point holding my hair, “...wanna seek my fortune?”

This peaks my attention, of course, “X marks the spot?” I hope she's meaning what I think she's meaning.

“The spot is usually your bed,” oh she is meaning, hot damn, “...although the couch is right here.”

“Couch?” I pat the surface behind us, “Hm?” I kneel up slowly, and offer her a hand to help her up. She takes it, but she also puts the other behind my head so she can toy with my neck and kisses me as we get to our feet. Julia kissing me lights everything on fire faster than it's ever sparked before, I think, not that I'm really thinking very clearly. Everything is clothes go now, and hands move to lift and Julia on couch, and don't screw this up.

She has her hand on my penis though, pulling a little as I lay her on the couch and then crouch down after, a playful not quite smirk, as she guides me inside and wriggles down a little, wrapping her legs around my back. I follow her 'instructions' and thrust myself further inside, reveling in that little moan of pleasure and the way her eyes squeeze together as she gives a devilish smile and then lifts her hands back up to my hair, to run them back towards my neck. One hand by each of her shoulders I speed up our rhythm and then bend my face down to trace kisses from her belly button up her stomach between her breasts, around the nape of her neck, at which point she wriggles against me making a contended murmuring noise, and then as I go to continue my path she whips her head around and snatches my mouth with hers plunging her tongue as though she's digging for gold and grinds her hips against me.
 

This spurs us from gale force to tropic cyclone and then down into a bay of bliss on the other side, rocking together gently as she cradles my head against her chest and kisses my forehead, and I kiss the top of her breast, assuring myself that she's still really there. 


Now it goes back to the main article.

Interlude 2

She laughs, delighted and wicked, and kisses me passionately and straddles me rolling me all the way onto my back so that she can mount me. She wriggles slightly, squeezing my penis with her muscles—damn—and then she begins to ride slowly, and then gaining speed I don't have to urge her forward with my hands on her hips, she's riding with steady rhythm up and down and then up and ramming down explosion in my brain. Nothing so deep and broad—since--

I push up and then raise my upper body so that I can kiss her but she pushes me back down before we connect, and my back is laying on the couch again and she wags a finger playfully at me.

“No, no. Ah'm not done takin' ya through ya paces...” and off we go again slowly as I rise back to the challenge within her and then pace quickening and slowing and quickening and slowing slightly and then speeding up and that almost jump again and down and faster and faster, somewhere in there my hands managed to find her breasts and play and squeeze and she shimmies from side to side in amongst the ride but I can't fully keep track of all the motion just the ache of pleasure emanating until things burst free and she lowers herself against my body, disconnecting to climb up my chest enough to meet our lips together.

Now it goes back to the main article.

 

I almost choke as I look over at her then. They've been—to her all this time? Well, not—but to—but come on Crocker, they are damn wrong, and this explains—I cup her face with my hands and kiss her, all that time I've spent with those bitches, and she's had to watch, apologies spellt with my tongue in her mouth, as I shift us around again so that I'm on top once more as I continue to kiss and she kisses back hungrily. My hands work their way to her breasts as I wait for myself to be ready to go which won't take too long, and then snake one finger down her side tracing a line so I can prepare—but she's ready and I slide myself inside slowly, reveling as she gasps, and then I put my hands on either side of her head just above her shoulders and begin to thrust, a few slow gentle motions at first, releasing her mouth to pepper her neck and chest with kisses, before grabbing her mouth again and plunging my kiss deeply and thrusting myself in hard at the same time. She releases her own hold on my mouth with a gasp as I continue the deep...delving, her hands that had gripped my back letting go, arms stretched out, and then slowly returning their hold to me as she pulls up slightly towards. I close the distance so we can kiss again, and go to nibble at her mouth but she pulls back quickly.

“Blood,” she says in an almost breathless whisper.

Shit. Right, “Sorry.”

“It's okay,” she says, and pulls my head back down to her and licks my nose. I kiss her then and tangle our tongues, moving so that I'm standing at the edge of the couch but she's laying back down once more but pulling her legs gently up to my shoulders so that I can get in deeper. She pushes up against me as I do so and squeezes again, which is just—and I pick up my speed using her legs and my knees braced against the edge of the couch as leverage until I feel her quivering against me and I can feel my own release.  

Now it goes back to the main article.