Genre: Twilight - Humor / Smut
Characters: Jasper/Emmett
Details: AH, OOC, Slash
Rating: MA/NC17
Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content,
Post Word Count: 6440
Os/Drabble: One Shot
Summary:"Some couples have dinner parties, some couples have date night, Jasper & Em have Naked Fridays... A lil SLASHY silly for Ahelm because she asked."
“If you like pina colada’s, getting caught in the rain,”
I could hear Emmett’s voice echoing from the kitchen as I hung up my coat in the hall. I couldn’t help but smile as I listened to him hum over the words that he didn’t know. It still completely surprised me after eight years together, and that being “our song” he still didn’t have it committed to memory.
I pulled at the knot in my light blue silk tie and toed off the awful, enclosed black leather shoes that had held my feet hostage for the past ten straight hours. The cool of the almost honey colored natural bamboo flooring felt wonderfully smooth under my bare feet. I wriggled my toes a little as I undid the top few buttons of my white short sleeve cotton shirt. Happy to be free of my five day a week uniform and finally feeling like it was Friday. And god how I loved Fridays. It was our strip off and relax as soon as we got in the door day. Naked Fridays, what more could two grown men ask for?
I started toward the kitchen, keen on seeing the face that went with that completely awful and out of tune baritone. I flicked open the buckle on my pants, sliding my belt from within the loops and dropping it and my tie onto the seat of the cream and lime chaise that I stopped by. Shrugging off the fitted jacket that matched my pants, I carefully folded it over the top of the chair.
“But me and my old lady, had la, la-la, la, la, la da da.”
He only ever remembered the chorus. I have no idea why, it’s not like we hadn’t sung it a million times when we were on our honeymoon, and before that at his Father’s club on karaoke night. We still sang it now; it was like a McCarty family tradition to have embarrassing sing-a-longs at every get together, No matter who was in attendance or how formal the occasion was. I grinned to myself as I unzipped my fly and let the dark gray material fall in a pool at my feet.
Even when one of his sisters had married the Chief of Police of the small town they came from, we still had to get up and sing, and that was in an audience that housed the local mayor and dignitaries from the Indian Reservation on the coast. Damn Irish traditions, and more so enough Irish whiskey that I literally could have tapped my own blood for people to drink from. Some would say they needed Dutch courage to get up in front of four hundred people and sing, turns out I only had to have the luck of the Irish and my own weight and then some in amber gold.
Yet, I couldn’t say anything too bad about the great McCarty clan. I was an only child and, after my mother had passed away when I was four, it was just Dad and me. Mom and Pop McCarty were proud of all their children, never even batting an eyelid when their only son came out, and were more than accepting when he brought me home, six months after we'd first met.
Emmett's family – as big and as loud as they were – was warm and welcoming and had this way of making you feel comfortable enough to do things you never, ever thought you’d do before. Like taking a trip over the border to Canada and getting married on a whim. That had definitely been one amazing McCarty family experience, right up there with the time they’d had my favorite marranitos flown in from the tiny little bakery back in my home town, just because I was feeling home sick.
Speaking of comfort food, the smell of the infamous Emmett McCarty special Guinness and Potato stew was virtually pulling me by the nose toward the home of the mouth watering scent. I gave up on undoing the buttons of my shirt, preferring to just rip it over the top of my head along with my thin white undershirt and walk bare-chested with only my crisp white boxer shorts left as clothing.
I rounded the corner into the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room and, as it always did upon seeing him at the end of a long day, my heart skipped a beat. A grin threatened to burst right through my cheeks as I watched him sing into the wooden spoon he had been stirring the thick stew with that he started cooking before I left for work. Eight years of marriage and four years of dating, and he still took my breath away.
I watched for a few minutes longer, his dark curls slightly damp, the ends of which dripped a few stray drops of water from the shower he must have just had. I licked my lips as one traveled down the middle of his back, over every curve of muscle stopping just shy of the always there crack of his ass in a tight pair of bright red hipster briefs.
He swiveled, barefoot in the kitchen, shaking the aforementioned ass along to the beat, and it was all I could do not to leap across the small amount of space between us and bite my teeth right into that succulent bubble butt.
When he bent over, checking on the large pot of bubbling brew, I could take the wait no longer. I took a small run and slid into the room, Risky Business style.
“If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape..”
He turned and smiled at me, putting the lid back on the pot and repeating the next line as he closed the space between us.
“You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape.”
My hands reached out, finding purchase on either side of his hips and I pulled him close. He smelt like sweet pastry crust, nutmeg and the Axe body wash that combined, had me wanting to lick every surface of his skin that was available to me, and then some.
God, how he made me hot.
One large hand slipped around my side, pulling me deeper into his embrace as his fingers found purchase over my cotton covered my ass. He held the spoon up to our faces, turning his head to the side to finish crooning the last few words.
"If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain,
If you're not into yoga, if you have half-a-brain,
If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape,
You're the love that I've looked for, come with me, and escape."
Our eyes locked as we sang the last line to each other. I tilted my head up just that small amount to cover the tiny difference in height that we had and pressed my lips against his. It took all of a second for his tongue to dart out, brushing against my own as I couldn’t wait to taste the sugary sweetness that was hinted at as I breathed him in. Our tongues met in languid strokes, moving against each other in a way that only after doing this for so many years now felt utterly familiar, and had my cock firming between us with thoughts of what might happen next.
Or would happen next, as his large hand slipped under my boxer briefs, kneading his thick fingers into the tight muscle there. I groaned, as he stepped us backward, the loud clattering of the wooden spoon on the polished floor the only other sound in the room apart from our breathing and the bubble and hiss of the stew on the stove. Em’s now free hand cupped the back of my head, his fingers catching on the mess of curls that were mostly in knots from my own hand running through my hair countless times today.
My hands weren’t idle, exploring each familiar contour of his broad back. The hard bumps that were his spine, the soft pads of flesh that made up the barely there love handles at his sides. I squeezed the skin between my fingers gently, and chuckled at the almost animalistic growl that rumbled in his chest. My lips left his as my back met the kitchen island. Teeth and tongue followed the strong line of his jaw, swirling and nipping over his bobbing Adam’s apple, wet kisses in a trail over this collar bone and teeth sinking deep into the round of his shoulder. He lifted me up with strong hands under the cleft of my buttocks and I jumped, helping him seat me on the cold stone of the white marble counter top.
His breath came in short pants as I continued my exploration of his broad chest, the dark soft curls that were thick in the center and spread out into nothing across his pecs. My tongue swirled around one pebbled nipple, alternating with my teeth as he yet again groaned above me. His fingers tugged at my boxers, and prodded one cheek, and then the other to lift and give him the room needed to pull them down my thighs, my cock springing proud from the material confines and bouncing against his stomach as he bent to remove my shorts completely.
I chewed on my bottom lip, at the site of him between my legs, my hands having slipped along his back, threading into his hair and caressing the silky wet curls under my fingertips. I felt his lips on my left ankle, bending my leg at the knee, his thumbs rubbing firm circles up my calves as he torturously worked his way up my legs. With one hand, I scratched his scalp gently as the other moved to prop myself up behind me. Instead of finding the smooth stone that I thought I would, my fingers hit something slimy and wet.
I brought my hand back in front of me and realized what it was with a laugh. Em broke off from worshiping the skin just above my knee with a worried look, that turned into a deep dimpled grin.
“You could never keep your fingers out of my pie, babe.” He winked and I rolled my eyes at his ridiculously allusive statement.
I slowly swirled my tongue around my index finger, my eyes never leaving his, only watching the coffee color deepen to something akin to the darkest of chocolates. The lust that radiated from his look alone had my body trembling. I closed my mouth around the tip of my finger, releasing it with an audible pop that had him groaning, his fingers firmly pressing into my thighs as he raised his body back up from where he’d been crouched low before.
His tongue swept across my bottom lip, his groan vibrating across my skin as he tasted the peach mixture that lingered. Em's hand gripped mine, lapping at the juices that had dribbled down to my palm, his tongue swirling around each of my sticky fingers making my cock twitch for the exact same movements to be repeated on it. All the time, his eyes on mine. I couldn’t and wouldn’t break his gaze. It was like with every movement of his tongue, his hands just cradling mine I could feel the tension between us. The need, the want.
It never lessened.
Never dissipated.
It only burned the brighter.
“Mhmm, you taste fucking wonderful if I do say so myself.” One hand slowly crept up my thigh; my skin was on fire with his touch.
“Fu-hk,” I gasped, breaking the word in two as the soft pads of his fingertips grazed just shy of my most sensitive skin. My hips leaving the cold surface of the counter and moving up, dying to reach something, anything, to brush against, to feel more than the palpable tension that was building between us.
Em’s lips trailed soft touches over my wrist, extending my arm to reach the inside of my elbow. His eyes semi closed, the fullness of his lashes brushing against my skin like butterfly wings with how delicate it felt, almost a ticklish sensation. Nevertheless, the touch sent sparks of want straight to my cock. His breath was cool on my heated skin as he chuckled, his nostrils twitching as he stopped and looked up at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of those deliciously puffy lips.
He turned laying his cheek on my forearm. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Em, please,” I begged, my hand flipping over, cupping the back of his neck and pushing lightly, directing him to the part of me that was standing straight and tall and practically waving on its own for attention.
He chuckled again, the husky sound so very like the noises he made in our bed, driving into me with reckless abandon, had me almost whining, willing him to cut the crap and just do something already. Foreplay was great, foreplay was … fucking awesome with this man but, damn it, enough was enough!
“What do you want?” he whispered right over the tip of my dick, his hands slowly passing up and down the outside of my thighs, his touch feather light and once again, driving me to distraction.
I gulped hard, my hips flexing toward him on their own volition. “You,” I choked out. My hands fell behind me, propping my torso up so I could watch his every movement.
“Me?” The tip of his nose brushed along the side of my length that twitched in response.
“Oh, god yes, please… please. Just you,” I whimpered, my legs shaking under the flat of his palms resting, burning their presence where my hips and thighs met.
“Where?” I watched through heavy lids as his pink tongue darted out, wetting his lips, that smirk widening from before into something that was painfully playful. And damn was he causing me pain with all this… torturous waiting.
“Fucking hell, Emmett! Anywhere! Just.. fucking touch me!”
The muscles on my stomach quivered as he blew a constant stream of warm air from the base of my cock to the tip, which was now leaking like a faucet. The moment his breath played over that spot, my body jerked toward him, my ankles pulling at his thighs, needing him closer.
“Like this?” he asked, his tone almost condescending in its playfulness. His head lowered and for one shining second of pure joy I thought he was going to give me what I wanted.
Then his teeth found purchase on my inner thigh, pulling the taut skin into his mouth. I cried out with the pain, a sound that turned into a guttural noise from my chest as the same movement also caused his ebony curls to just brush the side of my cock.
This was fucking sensory overload, and he hadn’t even touched my dick yet.
“Or this?” I could hear the need in his voice now, that slightly lower octave than normal that usually meant I was in for some loving of the hot fast and hard variety. Oh yes, just fucking give me something!
His thumbs edged closer to the meeting point between my legs, fingers splayed over the swimmer’s v line that I slaved hard over in the gym whenever Em was working late at the restaurant. When he wasn't home the house was just… too quiet without him. My man had a presence that could light up a whole room, and after all this time together, it was like the warmth was completely sucked out of anywhere that he wasn’t. I needed him like the air I breathed, and it would still never be enough.
Em’s thumbs and forefingers made a loose circle around the base of my cock. Again I whimpered, rocking my hips forward, my naked ass making a seriously unsexy squeak on the marble top. I couldn’t laugh, I was too worked up. Emmett, however, broke into deep and loud guffaws. His hands left the close proximity of my dick and rested on my knees as he doubled over, resting the side of his head on the top of his palm.
After it went on for a minute or two (it could have been seconds), I sat completely up, more than a little pissed off. Okay, slightly hurt.
“It’s not that funny, Emmett.” I hardly ever used his full name, but even that didn’t turn his chuckles off.
He shook his head, indicating that I aparantly was wrong.
I crossed my arms over my chest and watched with growing annoyance my cock slowly deflating before my eyes. Every new uninhibited giggle from Emmett’s lips literally sucking out the hard on that had been all but raging before.
“Seriously. You're pissing me off.” I frowned, pulling my legs from behind him and letting them fall against the white wooden cabinet below.
“I just… you just… oh, baby don’t be mad.” Words finally left his lips, still bubbling over with the so called hilarity that one sound had made.
I shifted forward, using my palms on his shoulders to move him back so I could get off the counter. Way to go from hero to zero in one foul swoop husband ‘o’ mine.
“Awe, Jazz. Really. Just stop for a minute.” His laughter lessened, finally taking in the pout that had formed on my lips. I knew that pout was there because it always happened when he pissed me off. It also always ended in him kissing it away.
“Why? So you can laugh some more at something that was completely out of my control? It’s not that funny Emmett, and you’ve killed the mood okay? I just want to go upstairs and have a shower now.” His eyes lit up a little at the mention of shower. Mine however, just darkened and not in the good way.
“Wait hon, don’t be like that. I was just remembering that time at Kate and Garrett’s house warming. The blow up mattress?” His hands gripped mine, bringing it down over his chest and cupping it over his heart.
I didn’t sit back, but I didn’t jump off the counter either. “I remember the party, vaguely. Do you realize how many years back that was? It had to have been… maybe six? How old is little Charlotte now?” I wasn’t in the mood for games, I wasn’t in the mood for “I remember when.” My mood was decidedly dark after the events of last few minutes.
“She’s five but that’s not the point. The mattress, you were so wasted on that special sangria that Kate made? And randy, god you always get so touchy and horny when you’ve been drinking. Maybe we should crack open that vintage bottle of pinot noir that your Dad sent us from California last year.” That little crease in his forehead that was always there when he was considering something deeply came into view.
“Not helping here, Emmett,” I warned him, tugging my hand out of his grasp unsuccessfully as he only tightened his grip. Those dark, soulful baby browns turned on me then, full of mischief and flecked with gold from the above soft lights that we had installed to shine over the counter, like tiny spotlights.
“The mattress, Jazz. Do you remember you and me on the mattress. How we had planned on making the bed before the party started, and then were side tracked with Kate wanting me to finish off the appetizers and Garrett needing you to help him with the barbeque?" He ended like a question, like I should have some grasp of where this little reminiscing was going and how the hell it had anything to do with the end of my previous sexy times.
"Not really, how drunk was I? I do remember how sick I was the next morning and everyone..." I paused, my eyes growing wide.
His face broke into a gigantic grin, dimples on both sides of his cheeks deepening. "Now do you understand why I thought it was funny?"
I felt my face flush with the memory and I nodded, I swung the bottom of my feet up and down the outside of his legs. I had been very, very drunk that night. I had been very, very randy that night. So randy in fact that he'd actually thrown me over his shoulder at one point, dragging me upstairs to the spare room so I'd stop taking off articles of clothing and giving him a strip tease/lap dance in front of Kate's great grandmother and parents.
Once he'd gotten me upstairs though, and away from the octogenarians that most likely had never, ever seen anything like my moves and ass shaking to Britney Spears "Hit me baby, one more time" (and really, why it was in Kate's collection was beyond me... and I never really even liked Britney), things quickly changed from me being the only one involved who wanted sexy times.
I was a natural bottom, I loved it and very rarely did Em and I change it up. I loved when he took me on my back, my legs wrapped high around his body, heels pressing his ass hard and pushing him deeper inside. It was one of my favourite positions because I could stare into his eyes, taste his lips and watch the sheer ecstasy on his face when he came. This night however, I took control. Pushing him onto the bed on all fours and diving between his cheeks, barely registering the moans and gasps that were elicited when my tongue explored his sweet ass.
I’d waited till he’d begged and pleaded for more before I even reached into the side pocket of our small going away case and pulled out the lube we always packed. Em had sat up, rocking back on his knees, twisting his left arm around, his hand cupping my face to his, our lips meeting roughly. Our love making that night had been intense, I’d pounded against him with almost reckless abandon, reaching around to palm and squeeze his cock until we were covered in a slick sheen of sweat. We’d come together, panting as I called his name amongst a slew of words you’d mostly hear in a biker bar and we’d fallen asleep, completely exhausted, wrapped around each other.
Then came the embarrassing walk of shame the next morning. Kate and Garret had teased us mercilessly - over good coffee and a hardy helping of greasy foods - about the sounds coming from our room the night before. Apparently, our moans and groans weren’t the only loud noises. The blow up mattress had squeaked and rubbed against the wooden floor, creating an awful plastic squelching sound that had only increased as our love making had.
Garrett had taken great pleasure in calling me Double D for the next few months, in reference to the infamous viral youtube video of the Durex condom dogs. Now that I thought about it, it explained why for my birthday that year he’d given me a condom tree along with Kate’s bouquet of balloon animals. So that’s why Em had been laughing, the noise.
“You fucker! I don’t know how I forgot that! Sure, it was funny then Em, but I was enjoying what you were doing now. I’ve been thinking about you all day, babe,” I pouted, running my hands up and down his stomach, still able to feel the slight definition of the once toned stomach that had seen slimmer days. Not that I minded, there was nothing wrong with a little cushion for the pushin’ and all. He was a chef, they had to taste food, though Em appeared to do a lot more tasting than the others that worked for him.
Em’s smile became lopsided, making him look almost shy as he tipped his head to the side. His hands returning to my skin, rubbing gently from neck to the round of my shoulders as I hooked my fingers in the waist band of his red jocks. I leaned forward, spreading my legs wide, pulling him closer and letting my lips explore the muscles of his chest. My lips closing around one nipple bud, grazing it with my teeth and grinning as his moan reverberated against me.
I continued my exploration of his skin, licking a trail to the as yet unloved nipple, enjoying the way his chest had already started to move in and out quickly in time to his heavy breaths. “Thinking about you...” My fingers repeatedly tracing from his hip bones to meet in the middle and back again, the edge of my fingernails scratching against his stomach’s sensitive skin. “Thinking about licking you...” My tongue trailed across the middle of his chest, swirling around the void between his collarbones at the bottom of his neck. I gazed up through heavy lids, watching his Adams apple bob up and down in time to the gulps of air he was struggling to take.
One hand dipped under the elastic of his briefs, my fingers sliding through the curls that thickened toward the base of his length. “Thinking about your cock, and the way it tastes in my mouth. How the skin there is so soft, how you shiver and shake whenever my tongue slides right into that ..” I paused, loving the affect I had on him, the tells I knew and only I knew when my hand slid down his length until the tip of one finger pressed against the slit on the underside of the head, “Yes, just like that. I fucking thought about doing that to you all day.” I pressed my teeth over his collarbone, his head falling forward, coming to rest almost on my shoulder.
“Jasper, baby… god.” Emmett’s words were moans as he exhaled out slowly. My hand worked his cock slowly up and down as I used my fingers to ease down his jocks, freeing his thick member from the tight cotton so I had even more range to pump, and pull and tease.
For a moment, I got lost in his taste, lost in his scent as my tongue and lips explored every inch of his neck, shoulders, chest, arms that I could access. I was lost in the feel of silk over steel that my hand cupped around. Slowly stroking, twisting, palming the head, and spreading the moisture that was leaking from the tip down and up and up and down. I felt one of his large hands massaging my scalp, combing the knots out of my ash blonde waves, tugging in the spots he knew would have me groaning against his skin. Burning trails of want and need were ingrained in my flesh as his hand swept across my back and upper arms.
“I’ve wanted you all day, from the moment I left home, watching you curl up with my pillow, rubbing your face into the cotton where my head had just been. Listening to you breathe in my scent, the same way you fall asleep around me every night. Did I ever tell you I can’t fall to sleep for hours if your warm breath isn’t playing over the skin of my neck?” I stopped my trail of butterfly kisses up and over his shoulder, checking his reaction, after he shook his head no, I continued.
“I lay there and I toss and turn until I end up giving in, and going through the hamper for whatever shirt you’ve worn last and wrapping it over my pillow so I can smell you, feel comforted by you while you’re gone.”
“So that’s why I never have anywhere to put my head when I come home from closing the restaurant,” he chuckled, shuddering as my hand squeezed his dick firmly. My fingertips trailed over his hip to his back, sliding slowly up and down the warm skin as it broke out in goose flesh at my touch.
I turned my head, bringing my lips to the shell of his ear, tracing my tongue along the hard cartilage, My words were a breath more than a whisper, “I need you Emmett, every minute I’m not by your side, I think about how long it will be till I am again. Make love to me baby, I want to feel all of you. I want you to feel all of me.” I had no idea where this sudden... need for him became over whelming, but my heart ached to feel him, to experience us.
Emmett’s hands were suddenly cupping my face, his thumbs brushing reverently across the apples of my cheeks as his dark brown eyes gazed into mine with overflowing emotion. His tongue moved to wet his lips, they dropped open, like he was about to speak, then nothing. The slightest shake of his head and then his lips met mine. Slow, languorous touches, just the pressure of his skin against mine until it wasn’t enough.
His tongue traced delicately along my plump bottom lip, begging for entrance that I quickly gave. Tangling, massaging, dancing together until I couldn’t take anymore. I brushed my cheek against his, catching my breath and realizing that in the whole time we’d been kissing, I hadn’t moved at all. My hand still wrapped around his length, the other stilled on his lower back, just above the rise of the ass I loved to feel and squeeze.
“I love you. I love you so very, very much, Jasper.”
“I know, always you.”
I felt him pull out the cutlery drawer, the corner grazing my left leg as I watched his eyes darken further, something I thought was impossible at this moment. The tip of his nose brushed against mine as he found the extra bottle of lube we had here in the kitchen, all because of Emmett’s scouts training to “always be prepared.”
The amount of trial size bottles that littered our home was insane, and some were in the most obscure places. I knew for a fact that we needed to replace the little bottle in the laundry room from a rather interesting afternoon with me bent over the ironing board steaming Emmett’s chef whites. We may be in a committed, loving relationship for really, over twelve years now, that didn’t mean our love making was ever relegated solely to the bedroom.
I leaned back, bracing myself on Em’s strong shoulders as I listened to the familiar plastic click, his warm hands pushing my legs apart. I shifted my hips, my body tingling, waiting for his touch on my most intimate of places. Cool, then warm, then pressure and pleasure.
I couldn’t take my eyes from his. We’d started out so light, laughing and joking around as normal. Then the burning need between us that was always there, always simmering beneath the surface had lit up into something bright, demanding to be recognized. I never wanted not to need him like this, to want him like this. My heart felt fit to burst with the amount of love for this man, my man, that was filling it.
His fingers moved within me, one then two then three. My cock brushed against his stomach as he leaned forward his lips hovering above mine as I breathed him in as he breathed me out. His fingers were gone, leaving me feeling empty but I knew by now, over the so many, many times we’d made love that I wouldn’t be without him for long. The gooey squirting sound was in the very periphery of my thoughts, solely trained on feeling and being here in this moment with him.
My friend, my lover, my partner, my everything and never, ever enough.
As always, he hesitated, I could feel him pass the head of his now slick cock over the sensitive flesh that his fingers had prepared before. My body tensed and relaxed, knowing what I wanted, what would only ever make me feel good. Words weren’t needed, a softening around his eyes let me know that he’d seen the yes mirrored in my own.
Then with a timed, slow movement, he pushed in. The earth spun and stood still at the same time. There was only he and me and the way he was so soft, tender, loving with me. Achingly slow, he moved and finally his hips were flush against me. I brought one hand along the heated supple skin of his shoulder, threading my fingers into the soft curls at the nape of his neck, pressing his lips to mine. One hand steadied my hip, his warmth, his love burning a lasting image into my skin.
He moved, and I gasped, his free hand slipped between us, softly stroking my length in time with his hips flexing against mine. My heels grazed the back of his legs, until I needed more, I needed him deeper.. . I needed him to make me whole. I shifted against him, bringing my heels up to his ass, my legs open wide pulling him toward me. Every push and pull was driving me further to the edge of what only Emmett could give me.
His lips hovered over mine, hot and breathless. As his tempo increased, so did the change of what touch he needed to display. Sometimes his tongue was in my mouth, exploring every cavern roughly. Then light as a feather, his lips would move in bursts across my forehead, cheeks, chin and nose. Then teeth, grazing my collar bone, taut skin suckled on and nicked with both pain and pleasure at the thought of him still marking me, still claiming me even though it was more than obvious that I was his alone. The plain platinum band on my left ring finger proved that, the way I never, ever looked at anyone but him, would never want to look at anyone but him. He was everything and all and mine.
Always mine.
Soon the tight band of impending release was stretching to capacity. Taut muscles, toes curling, skin tingling, flesh burning and sweet friction between us was leading to one and only one outcome. His hand flew over my cock, soft then rough, slow then fast, gentle and reverent and exactly how I never knew just a hand could feel. Sensations were on overload. I could see he was close, could hear it in the grunts and groans that rumbled from deep inside his chest, like some animalistic roar that signaled the release that was to come.
So close, so close. I ravaged his flesh with my hands, scratched at the muscles in his back, manipulated and massaged the round swell at the top of his ass, cupping his face and attacking his lips with mine. Faster, harder, more. More. Always more. Never enough.
My thoughts were a jumble as I felt the last threads holding me back from experiencing true white blinding release finally were cut with just his words used as the knife.
“Come for me baby,”
And I did. I could never refuse him. All my senses were overcome with the pure blinding adrenaline of unadulterated joy swept through my body, bursting in strings of heat across both of our stomachs. I felt him still moving inside me, I heard his grunts getting louder, my head rested on his shoulder, bouncing with his last thrusts. He filled me completely, once, twice, holding me close and rocking me, utterly spent. We shuddered together, like aftershocks from an earthquake that we alone had caused.
I breathed in his scent, licked the thin sweaty sheen from his skin. Felt his lips on my neck, his hands wrapping around my back and pulling me close. My fingertips lightly stroked his back, up and down as my legs releaxed around him. Our breathing slowed and evened out, heart rates dropping back to normal.
Yet my nose twitched.
“Babe?”
He moaned, almost purred in contentment and I knew he wouldn’t be letting me loose from his grip for a little while yet. His arms tighted around my waist crossing his arms around my back and grazing my rib cage with his large soft hands. I loved being in his arms, I was six foot four to his six foot six yet I always managed to feel small when he enveloped me physically, yet it was more than that. He was comfort and love, always love. He was home.
My nose twitched again, it was definitely a smell.
“Em.”
Like.. like the toast Dad would make when Mom first left. Like when I had actually attempted to make Emmett his mother’s recipe for never fail meatloaf.. and I’d…
“Fuck Emmett the stew!” I pushed him back, chuckling as he cursed, quickly removing his softening member from my body and running across the otherside of the room, taking the now smoking pot off the stove.
The look on his face when he threw the pot out the side door leading to our patio was priceless. I was in tears of laughter while he looked like someone had taken his puppy away from him. I held my arms out, motioning him back over as I couldn’t help but to continue my chuckles.
“Aww baby, it’s okay. You can always make us more another time,” I managed to get the words out amid another round of chuckles.
His pout was one for the records as he shuffled back between my legs, and I wrapped my arms around him once more. I felt him sigh against my chest, his breath almost chilly against my heated skin and even though I’d just came, I felt a stirring that signaled all too soon I’d be ready for more.
“I guess we can order in.”
“Exactly.”
“But that does mean we’ll need to put at least pants on, Jazz.”
I frowned, stroking his dark curls absentmindedly. That wasn’t part of our Friday night rituals.
“Or I could just make us toasted cheese and turkey sandwiches.”
“Now that’s a great idea,” I commented, the smile returning to my face, ruffling his hair with that little bit more enthusiasm.
His snort in reaction had me slapping his back in mock protest, "Anything for your naked Fridays rule. You're so predictable, baby."
I couldn't argue, it was the truth.
I really did love naked Fridays.
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