justdidntseeit | [[ milliways, upstairs ]]

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[[ milliways, upstairs ]]

[ "three days." ]

Kate's asleep on her side in Boo's too-small bed, neck bent at an awkward angle. One arm is draped around Boo's snoring form, and the fingers of her free hand are still loosely curled around a dog-eared paperback on the pink comforter. An impressive assortment of Boo's books litter the floor, and a small stack is perched precariously between the edge of the mattress and Kate's heel.

She hasn't been sleeping long, her breathing still shallow and features not as relaxed as they could be.

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Laying on his side beside her he holds her close against him, bare chest pressed to hers as their hearts beat swiftly in sync.

His hands roam over her skin and he focuses on the closeness and contact, using this moment with her to wipe out thoughts of everything else.

The quiet intimacy is something they both need; it's comfort and reaffirming, when there's been so much stress and doubt surrounding them.

Her world shrinks to the bed, to his hands and his body against hers, to the way his muscles feel under her palms.

Her lips follow the line of his jaw until she reaches his mouth, and the tip of her tongue traces his lower lip.

Breath hitching, she hooks her thigh over his hip.

His mouth parts to hers and he kisses her while his hand slides along her thigh, pulling her leg higher on his hip, and he presses himself against her.

His skin burns where her hands touch and his jaw tightens as he holds in a groan.

She sighs into his mouth, a barely-breathed oh that he'll feel more than hear.

Her fingertips curl into his shoulder blade when she rubs herself against him, back arching at the contact.

Still kissing her, he slowly and carefully rolls onto his back, drawing her with him.

One hand threads into her hair, and his mouth moves from hers to her cheek, then the spot just behind her ear. He doesn't make a sound, but his breath shudders against the skin of her neck.

She settles on top of him, fingers sliding into his hair to encourage his attention.

Her breasts brush his chest, the friction sending sparks skating through her bloodstream, and she pulls in a sharp breath when his lips move near her ear.

Her free hand slips down his torso and she shifts to guide him inside her, teasing them both by rubbing the head of his cock against the slick heat of her slit.

His breath snags and he grazes her skin with his teeth.

Slowly arching his hips, his mouth keeps moving; tongue and lips following her throat down to the hollow of her neck and her shoulder.

Her nails make his scalp tingle. He smooths his hand along her side, trailing over the warm flesh, skating along her ribs to her middle and hip, on to the curve of her ass; pulling her against him.

Her skin's on fire; she's so hot she's shivering under his lips and hands, and when he pulls her against him, she bites her lower lip to keep from moaning.

Breath shuddering near his ear, she takes him in, sliding slowly onto his cock, torturing herself and him a fraction of an inch at a time.

He resists the urge to thrust into her; he wants more, the molasses slow movements are agony, but they're also incredible, taking his desire and drawing it out to the brink of desperation.

He needs her, but the torture of wanting her has it's own pleasure he wants to revel in for awhile.

"Christ, Kate-- "

His voice is a hoarse whisper against her skin, barely reaching his own ears.

Lips at his earlobe, her breathing's ragged with the cost of this restraint.

"Shh."

She stills completely when he's halfway inside her, closing her eyes at how good this feels.

"We're being qu-- "

She tilts her hips, taking him a little deeper, and her fingers fist in his hair.

" -- oh ... "

His hand moves to her back, his fingers curl against her skin and he has to make a concentrated effort to hold in a groan.

Not trusting himself to voice a reply he nods to her unfinished words, and her soft 'oh'; his own senses just as flooded with how great this feels.

His head turns when her fingers tighten, and he gasps against her cheek, his own eyes shut tight.

He can't help his hips arching, pushing himself into her a little more, or the way his arms tighten, drawing her chest closer to his.

Spreading her knees wider, she sinks down and swallows hard. She can feel the tension in Bill's body and knows he's struggling just as much to keep silent.

She doesn't rock her hips yet; she pulls back just enough to look at him. Hair tumbling over her shoulders to tickle his skin, she cradles his face between her palms and presses a kiss to his forehead, then his flushed cheek in an unspoken apology for what she said earlier.

Her lips meet his and she kisses him, soft and slow.

His arms loosen and lift, and he traces light lines from her shoulders down her back.

The kiss is long and tender; his heart swells, because he loves her God, he loves her and moments like these with her.

When they finally break his eyes open and he looks up at her with the reverence he feels. He's lucky to have her, and he knows it.

A pleasant shudder runs through her when his fingertips smooth over a particularly sensitive spot. Her lips curve into a small, private smile, and she brushes a lock of hair from his forehead.

Eyes locked on his, she begins to move, hips rolling in a slow, easy rhythym that's as familiar as breathing.

His hands continue to move over her skin, from her back to her hips, down her thighs and back up again, just as slow as the rhythym she's keeping.

He returns her smile before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin and hair.

She closes her eyes, concentrating on the feel of his hands while her pulse jumps under his mouth.

She's losing herself in this, with him, biting back sighs and moans with every slow rock of her hips.

Her fingers get lost in his hair; with her free hand, she braces herself on the pillow beside his ear.

"Missed this," she breathes, grinding hard.

He works his throat and pushes back into her.

"Me too."

It's been awhile, and even with the achingly slow pace (or maybe because of it because Lord, this feels incredible) he can feel the coil in his belly winding itself tightly.

His tongue moves over the skin his lips were just on, and his hands keep up their slow motions, paying special attention to those spots she reacts to.

Back arching at his touch, she swallows a moan and drags her nails down his scalp, past the curve of his neck.

Gripping his shoulder, she grinds harder. The friction against her clit sends sparks of white light into the black behind her closed eyelids, and her nails dig into his skin as she clenches around him.

He lets out a deep, rushed breath that's almost a groan when he feels her tighten around him.

Arching his hips beneath her, he tries to find the spot inside her that will bring her towards that edge he's closing in on with each movement above him she makes.

Grazing her earlobe with his teeth, he murmurs a low, wordless encouragement to her.

She can tell he's much closer than she is; shivering at the rumble of his voice, she reaches for his hand and brings it to her lips.

Sucking his thumb into her mouth, she swirls her tongue around its pad.

Shifting, she sits up — and oh god, the change in angle nearly makes her cry out — and guides his hand between her legs.

His eyes open and lock onto her mouth as she takes his thumb in. When she sits up his breathing hitches and he grits his teeth to stifle the sounds that want to escape.

Sweeping his eyes down her front from her breasts to where they're joined as she guides his hand, he touches her, brushing her clit with his thumb as she rolls her hips against his.

Her body jerks and she rocks into the light touch, wanting — needing — more.

She keeps her movements smooth and slow and steady, not wanting to push Bill past the edge just yet. Her eyes slip shut and her head falls back, her hair tumbling past her shoulder blades.

She slides her palms up her torso and cups her breasts, teasing her nipples with her fingertips.

He strengthens his touch, rubbing her clit in time with the motions of her hips. Moving beneath her, he pushes himself into her deeper, careful to keep the pace she's setting so he doesn't lose himself before she's there with him.

With his free hand he trails his fingertips from her hip down her thigh and back up again in a slow motion; watching her tease her breasts, the sight making his breath shudder and his blood burn hotter.

She's trembling under his hands (and hers, as she pinches a nipple and strokes the underside of her other breast), and every circle of his thumb takes her higher.

Tension mushrooms in the pit of her stomach while she concentrates on the feel of him beneath her and inside her.

God, she's so close, but not quite --

(there, wait, there)

Her back stiffens and her head snaps forward; she braces herself with her palms on his chest as she unravels.

His hips match her rhythym, thrusting against her while she rides him, and his breathing is ragged as he tries to keep the silence and hold on a little longer.

She feels so damn good, her slick tight heat and steady motions send him closer and closer towards that edge, and he's not certain he can hold on.

When he feels her react to his touch he does it again, wanting so much to give her what both their bodies are craving.

Feeling her reach her peak ignites his senses and it only takes a few more strokes before he follows her. Pressing his head back hard against the pillows, and shutting his eyes tight, his hand leaves her leg to fist in the sheets as he comes hard and holds in the groan of satisfaction trying to escape his lips.

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