VoyForums

[ VoyUser Login optional ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, [10] ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 16:12:09 09/27/06 Wed
Author: JayBee
Author Host/IP: adsl-67-119-203-150.dsl.pltn13.pacbell.net / 67.119.203.150
Subject: Succession, Part One, Chapter 4.2 (end of chapter 4) - NC-17 (sort of)
In reply to: JayBee 's message, "Succession, continued because the thread is getting long" on 18:18:41 09/25/06 Mon


As Paul's kiss deepened, Madeline struggled to maintain her equilibrium. She had thought that she had long ago left behind old memories, that her feelings for him were beyond recovery. But now, the sensation of his lips upon hers was just as she remembered it, and everything rushed back to her in vivid clarity. With a single embrace, it was as if time had fallen away -- as if she had been frozen and only now revived.

She placed her hand against the side of his face, her fingers on his temple, her palm cupping his cheekbone and jaw. He ran his hands along her body, first through her robe, then slipping underneath the fabric to stroke her bare shoulders and finger the straps of her nightgown. She couldn't help but gasp, almost overwhelmed by the feeling of his skin on hers, by a desire long suppressed but now awakened. Not simply desire for the touch of a man -- that she had had, when it suited her -- but for <i>his</i> touch, and what it conveyed. She had almost forgotten what it was like to connect with someone for any reason other than lust or boredom, or that such a connection was even possible. Now, she craved it, was poised to give into it completely -- until, unexpectedly, he pulled away, his mouth twisted in an embarrassed smile.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head and then rising awkwardly to his feet. "I can't stay like this anymore."

"What?"

He laughed. "On my knees. That hard floor was killing me." He chuckled again. "Why, what did you think I meant?"

"Nothing." She forced a smile.

His smile grew into more of a smirk. "You had an awfully shocked expression for someone who wasn't thinking anything. A little like someone who was afraid I was going to just walk off and leave."

She laughed, trying to hide her embarrassment. Her face must have given away her disappointment, which in turn revealed how much she had wanted him. She could tell by his smug expression that he had seen it, that he recognized how much power he really had over her, and that he relished seeing her reaction.

She took a deep breath and collected herself mentally. She had been about to plunge off the edge of a precipice -- had even wanted to, had yearned for the loss of control that it implied. But she could not allow that to happen. She would reassert control, then, by taking the initiative, by deflection, by shifting the focus of their interactions to her power over him -- a power that was safe, because she understood it. She would be with him because she chose to, not because she needed it; she would be with him on her terms, not his.

She got up from the chair and slowly walked over to him, then she slid her hand up his chest and traced light circles across it.

"I wasn't afraid of anything," she said teasingly, her voice low, almost a whisper. "After all, you wouldn't <i>dare</i> walk away from me."

She studied his expression. The smugness had faded, replaced by a more straightforward amusement. That was better, but not enough.

As she continued stroking him, she felt the rise and fall of his chest through the crispness of his shirt. She took a step backwards and looked him up and down languorously, possessively, admiring the leanness of his form. Then she shrugged the robe off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. When his mouth twitched and his gaze wandered across her body, she knew she had him under her control -- that the need, now, was his, not hers.

She backed out of his reach and laughed, deep in her throat, as she led him around a corner to the small alcove that hid the bed. She sat on the end and waited for him to join her.

"Is this better than kneeling on the floor?"

"Much."

She leaned over and kissed him again, this time aggressively. He responded in kind; he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing and pulling her against him. She reached up to begin unbuttoning his shirt, but, to her frustration, fumbled, the cast hindering her movements.

She laughed. "I don't seem to be able to do this."

"Allow me."

He sat back and pulled off his clothes while she watched. His movements were lithe and quick, like a predator -- they had a certain dangerous quality to them, an almost threatening determination. He tossed the clothes to the floor, then reached over and pulled her nightgown off over her head. Before she could move again, he pushed her backwards, falling on top of her and kissing her hungrily.

He covered her with his warmth and enfolded her in the firmness of his muscles; she breathed in his scent, tasted his skin, yielded to the pressure of his body against hers. His touch was alternately demanding and delicate: he seized her hair, pulling it to bare her neck, then brushed along the pulsing jugular with light kisses; he shoved her shoulders down against the mattress, then gently drew his tongue down her chest. She groaned and shifted beneath him, unable to think clearly, except to realize that she no longer seemed in control.

Subtly, gradually, the power had shifted again in his favor. Once again, she needed and craved him, responded to his initiative, rather than he to hers. Trying to lessen the strength of her reaction, she closed her eyes and concentrated on pure physical sensation, telling herself that what she felt was simple arousal. For a time, it worked -- with her eyes closed, he could be anyone, just a means to a self-gratifying end. But when she felt him sink into her, she forgot herself and opened her eyes. Above her, the first thing she saw was his eyes: sharp, steel-blue, and glittering. They looked into her, pierced straight through her, and, with a look of silent understanding, banished all notions of power altogether. In that look, he told her that he had been struggling with the same need, the same weakness as she -- and he too had lost.

In truth, there was no control for either of them. To her surprise, she no longer cared.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Forum timezone: GMT-5
VF Version: 2.94, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2008 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.