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thejusticelounge2013-02-06 08:01 am
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2013-02-06 08:01 am
gilded
takes place directly after the Halloween party, with Kate dressed as Phillip Marlowe and Ollie dressed as a satyr
kate: You have fun last night?
ollie: Some. Hal kinda surprised me. That costume was weird.
kate: I didn't take Hal for the drag type.
ollie: Me neither! He mentioned something about how Kyle's encouraging him to be kinkier, which led Hal to envision himself in a schoolgirl skirt, and so forth and such like. But a schoolgirl skirt in private is miles away from a Queen of Tarts costume in public!
kate: *grin* He's got nice legs, though. *blinks a few times, out of reverie* Sorry. *clears throat* I didn't think Kyle was, uh, that kind of kinky.
ollie: I have no idea if he is. Hal's relating of the tale was less about Kyle and more about how wonderfully the pleats would lie over his ass. *grins and pulls her close* But I don't wanna talk about that.
kate: *leans in, murmurs against his neck* Would you rather talk about how you've got me listening to Leonard Cohen?
ollie: You've got me reading him. Very very slowly, because I keep stopping to think about you. You and me, a thousand kisses deep.
kate: Should we start with just one for now, then build up to it?
ollie: *leans in to kiss her, deep and slow, his hand running up her side firmly*
kate: *takes off her hat, tossing it over towards the bedpost, then leans in further to kiss him*
ollie: Kate. You're amazing like this, y'know. You hold yourself different. I dunno if it's the flat chest or -- *cups her dick with his hand* -- this, but you move in this strange unyielding glide. If that makes sense.
kate: *makes a soft noise, even though she can't quite feel it, not like she would if she were flesh and blood, but knowing that he's doing it is enough alone to make her ache* Not entirely, but I think I can see where you're getting at... *bends down and draws a stripe of bare skin across his chest with her tongue* I'm your man, then.
ollie: *smiles, blinking slowly as he watches her move, touching her smooth hair where it pulls into the bun* You weren't kidding about the Cohen. Ahhhh, god, Kate ... I want you to eat me up tonight. Tear me to pieces and devour me.
kate: Then you'll have to owe me the same courtesy soon. *shifts out of her jacket with a shrug of her shoulders and watches him with dark dark eyes, still in awe that he can let her, will let her, after all of this*
ollie: I will. Oh, darling, I will. I'm gonna do everything I can to you, for the rest of our lives. *pulls her shirttails free of her trousers, pushing his hands up them to feel her bound chest, licking the gold she'd put on his lips* Take off your shirt. I need to see you.
kate: *groans as he touches her, breathing in deep before starting to unbutton her shirt, worrying her lower lip to keep from losing the deliberate nature of her movements in the process, then slips it off to reveal the bandages and sports bra combination she's put together* Undo me?
"Yes." Ollie presses the heels of his hands against her breasts, looking down at the different shape they make in his hands all bound up. He slowly unwraps the bandages, rolling them around his wrist as he goes, then rubs his thumb against her ribcage, along the breastbands of the bras. "Put your arms up, Kate," he says. "Lemme take these off you."
Kate inhales once, sharply, as he touches her--not gentle, but that's not what she wants. She lifts her arms up, obedient, but never taking her eyes off him. She wants--fuck that, needs--to see him see her.
He sticks his thumbs up in the middle of the top band, letting the thick, stretchy fabric gather between his thumbs and forefingers as he moves his hands towards her chin. At that point he closes his fist around the bra and pulls it up, across her face and over her head. Then he's moving faster the second time, grabbing the sides of the bra and yanking it up, leaning in to kiss her hard as he wrestles them off her shoulders and arms.
"Kate," Ollie moans, spreading his hands over her chest, running his fingers along the grooves and ridges in her flesh. "Oh, god, woman. I want you so much. I want you to mark me up, make everybody know I'm yours. That I want you to *do* things to me."
The action is as good as the expression on his face, the urgency with which he touches her afterwards, and Kate presses herself up against him, stretching like a cat and pulling back a little once her nipples are peaked, gilded with green and pearl. She runs a hand behind him, up his back and along his neck, even as she's undoing her pants, finally clenching a fist in his hair so she can bare his neck and lean in to breathe against his pulse. "You say things like that and it tempts me to actually have a naked wedding," she murmurs. "Or hell, take you in front of everyone we know."
She steps back to pull her pants off, step out of them, and the men's briefs she's got on as well. "You're wearing too much," she comments, casual-but-not.
He closes his eyes when her fist tightens in his hair, and shudders at her words, at the visuals that spring up instantly in his mind. Sunshine and flower petals on her bare-gold skin as they're married, his own harsh panting as she fucks him in front of god and everybody.
When Kate moves back she's striped and smeared with glitter, her nipples perfectly jeweled and incongruously feminine above the men's trousers, the briefs, the -- oh god, yes -- cock revealed when she steps out of them.
"I'm wearing barely anything," Ollie protests without any heat to it, pulling the glorified sweatpants of his satyr costume off. He didn't wear anything underneath and he'd kicked off the hoof shoes already, so now he's just glitter and horns and cock heavy and half-hard.
"Duly noted, but still." Kate smirks, stepping in closer to wrap her fingers around his cock, lazy and deliberate, even though she's had the mental image as well and it makes her ache like nothing she's ever known, deeper than lust or love or any other kind of sex.
She's palmed a packet of lube out of the pocket of her pants, and now...now she just needs to pull him towards the bed.
Her hand on his cock is perfect, the way she holds him, firm and possessive. It's not unfamiliar and yet somehow it's better than he imagined it, like everything is amplified right now. For a moment Ollie feels like they did on that night after the slaughterhouse, like everything is cocaine superclear, like his emotions are on that same crystalline high.
Like he wants to share everything with her, and always will.
They move towards the bed of one accord, and when they get there Ollie pushes his face against her breasts, smelling the warm scent of her skin and kissing her nipple. "This still ... I mean, what we're about to do ... it still throws me off-balance, Kate. It still makes me feel all scraped raw, emotionally. But I want it. I *want* it so much because it's with you."
Kate arches a little with his mouth hot and wet against her breast, pushes herself back to focus, reaching to catch his jaw with her hand. God, she wants, wants so much that everything is too much, overwhelming her senses in a way that's so vibrant and clear and intoxicating. "We'll do it and work it out when we're done, cielo," she says, her heart pounding as she lets go of his cock with a final gentle slip of her fingers, before she opens the lube to slick them, one-handed, bending down to bite into his shoulder. He wants a mark, she'll leave one.
"Okay," Ollie says, and it comes out easily because he'll agree with anything right now, now that they're together again in the way they need to be, and his body's aching for her. "When we're done."
Kate's eyes are sharp and hawklike as she watches him, gauges and evaluates and *wants*, as much as he wants her. He can't keep himself from touching her, wherever he can, barely aware he's doing it except that he feels a thrill of satisfaction and *rightness* whenever their skin meets.
And then she starts slicking up her hand and Ollie watches, gaze still on the shine and wet of them even as Kate sinks her teeth into his shoulder. The pain, when he feels it, is almost too good and he breathes her name.
"You know you can always say no." And it's true, though this maybe...maybe is something she needs, rather than wants, unable to keep her hands off him anymore. She nudges her knee between Ollie's legs, doesn't make it too gentle or too safe, not with the taste of sweetness and his skin under her tongue. Her hand slides over his hip, then fingertips graze against his ass, wet and warm and teasing.
"I don't want to say no." Kate moves between his legs then, like she knew he'd say that, and maybe she did; she knows the things he wants before he does, sometimes. When her hand strokes over his hip, his ass, Ollie makes a low noise of encouragement. "More than that, sweetheart. I'm saying yes."
"I know." Admittedly, Kate's guessed, it's true, seeing as Ollie wouldn't have ventured the suggestion if he were intending on changing his mind. And even though she believes him, it's difficult to completely push away the quiet little animal fear inside her still that insists he won't want her, would say no--but she's learning.
Her fingers slip inwards, stroke softly but decisively against him before she presses one in, slow and surprisingly easy. He's so warm that it makes her hiss softly, causes her hips to jerk, her cock to shift against his hip a little. "God," she murmurs, involuntarily, her eyes meeting his. "Yes, cielo, like this."
He hadn't been kidding about the weed -- had slipped out of the party long enough for a joint -- and among that, the wine, and the press of Kate's cock against him, Ollie's feeling lax and warm and slutty. Her finger slides into him so easily, smoothly, and the sensation of it inside him is turning him on like crazy.
"That feels good," he tells her, kissing her throat, feeling her swallow. "Really good. I can't wait till it's your cock you're fucking me with, Kate. Took me a week last time before I could think about it without having to go jerk off."
That's the truth, too. Recalling the way she'd screwed him, on his knees for her in the living room, it'd hit him like a sledgehammer every time.
"Fuck, Ollie," Kate hisses again, her eyes closing for a second as she pictures it, remembers taking him hard and rough then imagines him remembering it, imagines him taking his cock in his hand, wanting her. The scotch is still a low burn in the back of her throat, in her veins, and she gives in a little to instinct then, crooking her finger inside him, adding another.
"Someday," she says, voice rough, because she's got to get him back, and she can't not tell him the dirty things inside her head, not anymore, not when she can twist her fingers inside him just like this and have him make the noise he's just made. "Someday I'm going to take you, Oliver, only using my cunt to lube up my cock. Make you have it just that rough, make you smell only of me. You want me to claim you? That's how I'll do it."
This time *he* swallows, the force of her words making his throat go dry with desire, the low determined sound of her voice bringing it home that much more. She really *wants* this, as much as he does.
It's not that they'd ever gotten off the same wavelength when it came to sex, not even through the argument and the taking-it-slow time, but it's still a huge relief to know that this part of them didn't fade, wasn't damaged. "Kate," he says, her name filling his mouth like the taste of her pussy. "God, honey, I--"
Her fingers inside him twist again, twist and curve and he has to stop talking because he's making a choked, hungry noise and it takes a while to calm down from that enough to say, "I want you to make me yours just like that, Kate, fuck me with only your wetness to smooth the way. I want you ... I want you to *know* that you fucking own me, and I'm yours, and I belong to you. I want all of it."
The sound of him, like he's lost in her and doesn't ever want to find the way out, the way he's moving against her hand--as if this hadn't all gone straight to her head already, making her both clear and dizzy at the same time, he's done it now. "Yes."
He puts his hand against her face, this dear angular sharp-featured face that belongs to his sweet, fierce woman, and it's like everything is good again. "I'll never love any other person the way I love you, y'know," Ollie says, and he hadn't planned to say that but the moment it's out he knows it's the truth. How could it be anything else, with how he feels right now?
She breathes in and it's nearly a sob, though one of happiness, of relief; so she kisses him, for a second, before pushing him onto his back with a nudge of her knee against his, fingers easing out so she can kneel between his legs. "I want to see your face when I move into you," she says, her toes curling against the bed, lifting his hips a little--though he'll have to do some of the work. "Fucking hell, Ollie, I want to see you come undone for me, I need to watch you."
"Watch me," he agrees, rolling his shoulders, lifting his jaw. He knows what he looks like right now -- dark-smeared eyes, green and pearl glitter, the gold that still hasn't left his mouth -- tarted up and strange, otherworldly. A dark carnal undercurrent of ripping and devouring lust that Ollie knows Kate responds to, as much as he does.
Normally he likes her to be on this end of the voyeuristic gaze. Normally he's hungry to watch every single response she has, every shade darker her skin turns and every sound she makes. This time, she's watching him, and Ollie finds he can't resist making it good for her, call upon some of the debauched libertine show he used to put on so well.
"You're gonna see everything I feel, honey."
"I know," Kate murmurs, though the implications of that rush through her, carry her away for a moment in the sweetness of knowing where they stand, her heart pounding. "It's never been like this before," she admits, heart catching in her throat--but then he's got this look to him, edgy and fey and so beautiful she can't tear her gaze away even if she wanted to.
And he's inviting her, that little play of his lips that means he knows what he's doing, and Kate loves it even as she resolves to screw it out of him, leave him gasping and arching his back under her.
She guides her cock home, as he raises his hips to meet her, free clean hand pushing one of his shoulders into the bed for leverage. The glitter swirls against his skin, transfers to hers then back again, and her eyes are on his as she doesn't spare him, moves in to the hilt without teasing. Not anymore. She's going to take him properly, it's what he's asking for.
The push into him is deep, fast, and there's ribbons of pain sliding up through him as her cock drives home. "Kate," Ollie gasps, grabbing at her arms, her back, finally her hips to anchor her into him. "Oh, jesus, it's ..."
It hurts, and it's exactly what he wants, Kate inside him and inescapable and all-encompassing. Her fingers curl almost delicately over his shoulder where she's holding him down, and there's a beautiful gleam gilding her skin where her body has met his. She looks like a goddess. But Ollie knows what kind of goddess she is, and fucking hell, he's a god along with her, isn't he?
"Fuck me," he growls, digging his fingers into her hips. "Don't hold back. You know it's what I want, and I know you want it too, Kate, darling. No holding back. Not between us." Moving one hand to her head, Ollie strains up enough to press his mouth against hers. "Leave me in pieces."
Kate knows it has to hurt, knows Ollie loves it, because even now he's pulling her in to the hilt, and she's seen the flash of sheer rightness in his eyes that he probably doesn't even realize is there--a wordless 'yes, this' in affirmation. She clenches hard around the end of the cock inside her to keep it there, the jerk of the movement making her clit shift against the ribbing of the silicone and making her moan. Because of that she has to stay there for a moment, panting and searching for breath, even as he's askingorderingbegging her for more.
She catches his hair as he moves up to kiss her, pulls him to her elsewhere even as her hips ease back so she can thrust back into him a second or two later. "Swear it to you. Never going to hold back again, cielo," she says against his mouth, punctuates it with a sharp nip of teeth and a twist of her hips that drives her cock in further on the next movement.
He's trying to kiss her but the way she fucks into him makes Ollie choke, his head tilting back and out of the kiss but then Kate's mouth is dragging down onto his chin and those are the only two things he's aware of right now, her hot open mouth and the incredible sharp rills of sensation following each pass of her cock inside him.
"Oh god, Kate," he says, voice strained and thin from his stretched throat, fingers too wet on her hips to keep purchase. "Don't stop, don't stop please don't stop I want --" Ollie has to stop there and collect himself because the words are running into each other.
Pushing his hips up to meet her thrusts makes him grimace, but the sudden rush of liquidy-warm desire that floods through him when her cock hits just right is too good to resist. "Fuck me," Ollie says through his teeth. "Jesus, I can't think of anything else, all I want, Kate, all I want is for you to fuck me."
Kate watches Ollie as best she can, though she's desperate to kiss him, sloppy and rough just like how she's fucking him. It's rare that she can see him come apart like this (for her only for her and the thought makes her ache from how amazing that feels--to be in love, here and now and so deep it's elemental).
She reluctantly eases her mouth away so she can see him beg, even if he catches himself and tries to turn it into an order. It makes her smirk, because he's not far enough gone yet, and she wants him beyond this, wants him to see how she needs him. Shifting her hips a little, her fingers dig into his hip, pull him upwards a little so that she's angling upwards a little more.
"Don't think, cielo," she murmurs, and tugs his hair back to expose his neck, drag her teeth against skin even as she's moving harder into him. "You and me, nothing else, let it go, let me show you how good it can be."
It was startling, made her eyes widen a little, for Kate to realize that she'd taken her own advice, was letting him see everything she wanted. No holds barred.
Kate's voice wraps around him, pinning him down and urging him forward at the same time, and it's all Ollie can do to keep it together. But then he looks at her (he HAS to look at her, he can't keep his gaze away, wanting to see what she's seeing), and when Kate's eyes widen, that tiny bit, it's like she's thrown open all her shutters. Just for him. And that means there's no need to cling on to control with his fingernails.
"Okay," Ollie says, angling his knees out to make the bracket of his hips wider, open himself out for her to get closer. "All right." None of the control issues, none of the seething voices in the back of his head telling him to man up, none of the reflexive instinct to be in power.
Instead he lets his bunched-up shoulders relax, lying back and letting his hands slide up Kate's sides, watching her breathe. "Do it to me, Kate," he murmurs. "Please, I need you to fuck me. My Katie. I want all of you, I want you to have all of me. Please, Kate. Take me."
His head's swimming, but he means every word.
It's good, because Kate doesn't want him to keep it together, not anymore. Not if this is how they're going to be--need to be--the two of them, bare and open, as close as two human beings could possibly be to each other, tangled that damn close. She's stopped moving for a moment, still deep within him, as if her body's recognized the import of the situation and taken it into consideration.
And so she sees the moment that he knows, that he realizes what they're doing, and it brings a relief into her chest that she didn't know was tense. If Kate had the time, maybe she'd analyze it, add it to the greater ongoing understanding of the dynamics of the relationship of Kate and Oliver. But he's under her now, pulling her into him a little with the touch of his hands on her...
And he's begging her, for real now, and she's got to move again. She brushes a kiss against the bite on his neck, then eases back to press in again, the faintest edge of friction and the force of her movement rubbing her clit against the ever-so-convenient ridges, though she's going to bring him off first, damn it.
"mmmmph," Ollie breathes when she moves into him again so firmly, the drag and pull of her not-quite-slick-enough cock making him gasp, soundlessly, mouth panting open. Now that Kate's coaxed this surrender from him, it's suddenly so much easier, all of it, like the last bit of grit and grime of doubt between them has flown out the window.
There's still the faintest scratch from all the glitter -- gilding Kate like a breastplate, now, and he can see where she's red and abraded from rubbing so hard against his chest -- insanely beautiful and strong and glorious as she rises and falls to pound her cock into him. His fierce woman, hungry for him flayed open underneath her.
So Ollie lets the gorgeous eager pain overwhelm him, lets his face screw up from the way she's shaking him down to the bones, lets his back arch when she twists this way or that, lets his mouth open so mindless pleading yes yes yesyesyes noises can patter out ceaselessly. He can't touch her because his fingers are twisted hard in the sheets. His cock rubs against her belly with every lunge she makes, and the push of her inside him combined with that is too much, too much.
"I love you," he tells her with the last scrap of clarity he has, and he can't even bring himself to be astonished or ashamed that it comes out a sob.
Kate aches, her cunt and muscles deliciously sore from holding the cock in her for so long, for moving so hard into Ollie, and it's almost like being rode hard herself, knowing she'll be tender in the morning. The thought of that, the thought of remembering this every time she moves, makes her blush and gasp a little.
The sound of it, of them moving, of her breathing rough and ragged, of him crying out and barely coherent, braids together, perfect. He's coming apart with each second, and she's so dangerously close to following him, to landing irrevokably in that headspace. And then he tells her he loves her, so desperate and true that it must be an axiom, universal law that they love each other--
--and it opens her as much as him. "I love you too," she gasps, and takes him in hand, needing him to come against her skin, warm and wet and somewhere that she can lick clean so she can take him into her in return.
When he comes he's not even quite sure it's happening? has happened? because it's one long golden green stream of bright, beautiful, blaring emotion and sensation that has him babbling her name like it's the only word he knows. It's the only thing inside him, Kate Kate Kate.
The slow, loving movements of her hand ease Ollie back into the breathing world, and even though he's spent and drained and exhausted, cored out, he can't help rising into her palm, wanting more of her touch. "You love me," he says, looking at the line of her shoulder, the curve of her hip. Wondrous. Precious. "You love me, Kate."
Still only half-aware of what he's fucking saying. But that's fine, between the two of them. Nothing is wrong, not anymore.
"Yes," Kate murmurs, and Ollie's cock is hot against her palm, her body so over-sensitive now that she's certain she can feel every flutter of his pulse against her skin as he comes, the twitches he can't control once he's done. "Yes, goddamn it, yes, I love you, Ollie, fuck..."
It's only reluctantly that she lets go of him, but she needs to raise her hand to her mouth, lick her fingers clean of him. Even so, she's still moving, her thrusts now not for his pleasure but for her own, the first one deep for the friction, then the next ones shallow and with a slow hard grind at the end of each of them so her clit is moving just right, just right.
But it's remembering how he called her name that sends her over the edge, with a sharp whimpering cry. The first shock of orgasm is quick, rough, almost too much so--but then she's somewhere between there and coming down, hanging for long seconds in the pleasure that's too much for her mind to process entirely so that it almost seems mundane until she tries to explore the depths of it.
Even so, it's gone too soon, and she whimpers again, bending to kiss his shoulder. "Oliver. Te amo, cielo, oh my god."
His mind clears up enough after he comes to get some sense back, Kate pushing into his fucked-open ass while her tongue darts between her fingers, Kate using her cock on her clit, Kate using him to get herself off. It's hotter than he could ever have imagined and Ollie eases his hips along her movements, not resisting, letting her do it. It's just shy of tipping over into unbearable rawness, but he's not about to stop now.
And that was a good call because it's then that Kate comes, making that keening noise, that high ringing call that means she's beyond thought as well, her orgasm pushing her beyond, the way his did.
When she bends down, he finally lets go of the sheets and brings his crumpled, red-streaked fingers up to gather her hair from her neck, pull it all up and over so it's spilling over her forehead and brushing his skin. "I missed you," Ollie tells her. "I don't want to ever be without you again." The words feel inadequate, but they're true. Everything would feel inadequate after what they just did together.
God, she's sore as hell, a deep amazingly pleasurable ache, though likely not as much as Ollie will by the morning. The thought of that makes Kate blush and smile softly at the same time, leaning down to press her face to his shoulder.
And, as always, just when she thinks she's able to handle it, to regain control, Ollie says something that breaks her to pieces, then puts her back together again. Kate makes a choked noise against his skin, leaning up a little so his fingertips stay against her neck and her shoulders. "I more than missed you," she whispers, because she can't think of a word stronger than missed right now, to explain the loss of it and how it feels to have him again.
She figures he'll understand what she means.
God, she's trembling now, has to ease out of him, let the silicone that was part of her, deep in him, fall to the bed, but then she's clinging to him once more. "Oliver, please," she says, but doesn't know what she's asking for until she says it. "Don't ever go again, oh god, please don't."
"I won't," he says without a thought, because really, there's no choice in the matter now. "I won't ever go again, Kate. It would be too wrong. It would hurt too much. More than anything."
She's shaking, and he is too. It's fine. It all seems fine now, now that they're together, more than they were before and in a way that they'll never be taken out of again.
"I just...I don't think I could do it again." Kate finds herself catching her breath, then, even though she hadn't been aware she was doing it. Her fingers clench in the bedclothes, wiping clean, before she rests her head against his shoulder, eyes closing. They're a mess, come and lube and blood and glitter, but she doesn't give a shit about cleaning up, not yet. Not when they have each other once more.
The smell of her -- of *them* -- is all around, thick in the air, and Ollie draws in a deep, hungry breath of it. He's still too fucked-out to be in any pain, but tomorrow'll be another story, for both of them. "Let's just stay in bed tomorrow," he says, drowsy but wanting to stay awake, soak up this feeling until he's saturated. "Let's not see or do anything, just you and me together with nothing else."
"Already wiped my calendar," she replies, easing up just a little so she can open her eyes, look at him, smile.
kate: You have fun last night?
ollie: Some. Hal kinda surprised me. That costume was weird.
kate: I didn't take Hal for the drag type.
ollie: Me neither! He mentioned something about how Kyle's encouraging him to be kinkier, which led Hal to envision himself in a schoolgirl skirt, and so forth and such like. But a schoolgirl skirt in private is miles away from a Queen of Tarts costume in public!
kate: *grin* He's got nice legs, though. *blinks a few times, out of reverie* Sorry. *clears throat* I didn't think Kyle was, uh, that kind of kinky.
ollie: I have no idea if he is. Hal's relating of the tale was less about Kyle and more about how wonderfully the pleats would lie over his ass. *grins and pulls her close* But I don't wanna talk about that.
kate: *leans in, murmurs against his neck* Would you rather talk about how you've got me listening to Leonard Cohen?
ollie: You've got me reading him. Very very slowly, because I keep stopping to think about you. You and me, a thousand kisses deep.
kate: Should we start with just one for now, then build up to it?
ollie: *leans in to kiss her, deep and slow, his hand running up her side firmly*
kate: *takes off her hat, tossing it over towards the bedpost, then leans in further to kiss him*
ollie: Kate. You're amazing like this, y'know. You hold yourself different. I dunno if it's the flat chest or -- *cups her dick with his hand* -- this, but you move in this strange unyielding glide. If that makes sense.
kate: *makes a soft noise, even though she can't quite feel it, not like she would if she were flesh and blood, but knowing that he's doing it is enough alone to make her ache* Not entirely, but I think I can see where you're getting at... *bends down and draws a stripe of bare skin across his chest with her tongue* I'm your man, then.
ollie: *smiles, blinking slowly as he watches her move, touching her smooth hair where it pulls into the bun* You weren't kidding about the Cohen. Ahhhh, god, Kate ... I want you to eat me up tonight. Tear me to pieces and devour me.
kate: Then you'll have to owe me the same courtesy soon. *shifts out of her jacket with a shrug of her shoulders and watches him with dark dark eyes, still in awe that he can let her, will let her, after all of this*
ollie: I will. Oh, darling, I will. I'm gonna do everything I can to you, for the rest of our lives. *pulls her shirttails free of her trousers, pushing his hands up them to feel her bound chest, licking the gold she'd put on his lips* Take off your shirt. I need to see you.
kate: *groans as he touches her, breathing in deep before starting to unbutton her shirt, worrying her lower lip to keep from losing the deliberate nature of her movements in the process, then slips it off to reveal the bandages and sports bra combination she's put together* Undo me?
"Yes." Ollie presses the heels of his hands against her breasts, looking down at the different shape they make in his hands all bound up. He slowly unwraps the bandages, rolling them around his wrist as he goes, then rubs his thumb against her ribcage, along the breastbands of the bras. "Put your arms up, Kate," he says. "Lemme take these off you."
Kate inhales once, sharply, as he touches her--not gentle, but that's not what she wants. She lifts her arms up, obedient, but never taking her eyes off him. She wants--fuck that, needs--to see him see her.
He sticks his thumbs up in the middle of the top band, letting the thick, stretchy fabric gather between his thumbs and forefingers as he moves his hands towards her chin. At that point he closes his fist around the bra and pulls it up, across her face and over her head. Then he's moving faster the second time, grabbing the sides of the bra and yanking it up, leaning in to kiss her hard as he wrestles them off her shoulders and arms.
"Kate," Ollie moans, spreading his hands over her chest, running his fingers along the grooves and ridges in her flesh. "Oh, god, woman. I want you so much. I want you to mark me up, make everybody know I'm yours. That I want you to *do* things to me."
The action is as good as the expression on his face, the urgency with which he touches her afterwards, and Kate presses herself up against him, stretching like a cat and pulling back a little once her nipples are peaked, gilded with green and pearl. She runs a hand behind him, up his back and along his neck, even as she's undoing her pants, finally clenching a fist in his hair so she can bare his neck and lean in to breathe against his pulse. "You say things like that and it tempts me to actually have a naked wedding," she murmurs. "Or hell, take you in front of everyone we know."
She steps back to pull her pants off, step out of them, and the men's briefs she's got on as well. "You're wearing too much," she comments, casual-but-not.
He closes his eyes when her fist tightens in his hair, and shudders at her words, at the visuals that spring up instantly in his mind. Sunshine and flower petals on her bare-gold skin as they're married, his own harsh panting as she fucks him in front of god and everybody.
When Kate moves back she's striped and smeared with glitter, her nipples perfectly jeweled and incongruously feminine above the men's trousers, the briefs, the -- oh god, yes -- cock revealed when she steps out of them.
"I'm wearing barely anything," Ollie protests without any heat to it, pulling the glorified sweatpants of his satyr costume off. He didn't wear anything underneath and he'd kicked off the hoof shoes already, so now he's just glitter and horns and cock heavy and half-hard.
"Duly noted, but still." Kate smirks, stepping in closer to wrap her fingers around his cock, lazy and deliberate, even though she's had the mental image as well and it makes her ache like nothing she's ever known, deeper than lust or love or any other kind of sex.
She's palmed a packet of lube out of the pocket of her pants, and now...now she just needs to pull him towards the bed.
Her hand on his cock is perfect, the way she holds him, firm and possessive. It's not unfamiliar and yet somehow it's better than he imagined it, like everything is amplified right now. For a moment Ollie feels like they did on that night after the slaughterhouse, like everything is cocaine superclear, like his emotions are on that same crystalline high.
Like he wants to share everything with her, and always will.
They move towards the bed of one accord, and when they get there Ollie pushes his face against her breasts, smelling the warm scent of her skin and kissing her nipple. "This still ... I mean, what we're about to do ... it still throws me off-balance, Kate. It still makes me feel all scraped raw, emotionally. But I want it. I *want* it so much because it's with you."
Kate arches a little with his mouth hot and wet against her breast, pushes herself back to focus, reaching to catch his jaw with her hand. God, she wants, wants so much that everything is too much, overwhelming her senses in a way that's so vibrant and clear and intoxicating. "We'll do it and work it out when we're done, cielo," she says, her heart pounding as she lets go of his cock with a final gentle slip of her fingers, before she opens the lube to slick them, one-handed, bending down to bite into his shoulder. He wants a mark, she'll leave one.
"Okay," Ollie says, and it comes out easily because he'll agree with anything right now, now that they're together again in the way they need to be, and his body's aching for her. "When we're done."
Kate's eyes are sharp and hawklike as she watches him, gauges and evaluates and *wants*, as much as he wants her. He can't keep himself from touching her, wherever he can, barely aware he's doing it except that he feels a thrill of satisfaction and *rightness* whenever their skin meets.
And then she starts slicking up her hand and Ollie watches, gaze still on the shine and wet of them even as Kate sinks her teeth into his shoulder. The pain, when he feels it, is almost too good and he breathes her name.
"You know you can always say no." And it's true, though this maybe...maybe is something she needs, rather than wants, unable to keep her hands off him anymore. She nudges her knee between Ollie's legs, doesn't make it too gentle or too safe, not with the taste of sweetness and his skin under her tongue. Her hand slides over his hip, then fingertips graze against his ass, wet and warm and teasing.
"I don't want to say no." Kate moves between his legs then, like she knew he'd say that, and maybe she did; she knows the things he wants before he does, sometimes. When her hand strokes over his hip, his ass, Ollie makes a low noise of encouragement. "More than that, sweetheart. I'm saying yes."
"I know." Admittedly, Kate's guessed, it's true, seeing as Ollie wouldn't have ventured the suggestion if he were intending on changing his mind. And even though she believes him, it's difficult to completely push away the quiet little animal fear inside her still that insists he won't want her, would say no--but she's learning.
Her fingers slip inwards, stroke softly but decisively against him before she presses one in, slow and surprisingly easy. He's so warm that it makes her hiss softly, causes her hips to jerk, her cock to shift against his hip a little. "God," she murmurs, involuntarily, her eyes meeting his. "Yes, cielo, like this."
He hadn't been kidding about the weed -- had slipped out of the party long enough for a joint -- and among that, the wine, and the press of Kate's cock against him, Ollie's feeling lax and warm and slutty. Her finger slides into him so easily, smoothly, and the sensation of it inside him is turning him on like crazy.
"That feels good," he tells her, kissing her throat, feeling her swallow. "Really good. I can't wait till it's your cock you're fucking me with, Kate. Took me a week last time before I could think about it without having to go jerk off."
That's the truth, too. Recalling the way she'd screwed him, on his knees for her in the living room, it'd hit him like a sledgehammer every time.
"Fuck, Ollie," Kate hisses again, her eyes closing for a second as she pictures it, remembers taking him hard and rough then imagines him remembering it, imagines him taking his cock in his hand, wanting her. The scotch is still a low burn in the back of her throat, in her veins, and she gives in a little to instinct then, crooking her finger inside him, adding another.
"Someday," she says, voice rough, because she's got to get him back, and she can't not tell him the dirty things inside her head, not anymore, not when she can twist her fingers inside him just like this and have him make the noise he's just made. "Someday I'm going to take you, Oliver, only using my cunt to lube up my cock. Make you have it just that rough, make you smell only of me. You want me to claim you? That's how I'll do it."
This time *he* swallows, the force of her words making his throat go dry with desire, the low determined sound of her voice bringing it home that much more. She really *wants* this, as much as he does.
It's not that they'd ever gotten off the same wavelength when it came to sex, not even through the argument and the taking-it-slow time, but it's still a huge relief to know that this part of them didn't fade, wasn't damaged. "Kate," he says, her name filling his mouth like the taste of her pussy. "God, honey, I--"
Her fingers inside him twist again, twist and curve and he has to stop talking because he's making a choked, hungry noise and it takes a while to calm down from that enough to say, "I want you to make me yours just like that, Kate, fuck me with only your wetness to smooth the way. I want you ... I want you to *know* that you fucking own me, and I'm yours, and I belong to you. I want all of it."
The sound of him, like he's lost in her and doesn't ever want to find the way out, the way he's moving against her hand--as if this hadn't all gone straight to her head already, making her both clear and dizzy at the same time, he's done it now. "Yes."
He puts his hand against her face, this dear angular sharp-featured face that belongs to his sweet, fierce woman, and it's like everything is good again. "I'll never love any other person the way I love you, y'know," Ollie says, and he hadn't planned to say that but the moment it's out he knows it's the truth. How could it be anything else, with how he feels right now?
She breathes in and it's nearly a sob, though one of happiness, of relief; so she kisses him, for a second, before pushing him onto his back with a nudge of her knee against his, fingers easing out so she can kneel between his legs. "I want to see your face when I move into you," she says, her toes curling against the bed, lifting his hips a little--though he'll have to do some of the work. "Fucking hell, Ollie, I want to see you come undone for me, I need to watch you."
"Watch me," he agrees, rolling his shoulders, lifting his jaw. He knows what he looks like right now -- dark-smeared eyes, green and pearl glitter, the gold that still hasn't left his mouth -- tarted up and strange, otherworldly. A dark carnal undercurrent of ripping and devouring lust that Ollie knows Kate responds to, as much as he does.
Normally he likes her to be on this end of the voyeuristic gaze. Normally he's hungry to watch every single response she has, every shade darker her skin turns and every sound she makes. This time, she's watching him, and Ollie finds he can't resist making it good for her, call upon some of the debauched libertine show he used to put on so well.
"You're gonna see everything I feel, honey."
"I know," Kate murmurs, though the implications of that rush through her, carry her away for a moment in the sweetness of knowing where they stand, her heart pounding. "It's never been like this before," she admits, heart catching in her throat--but then he's got this look to him, edgy and fey and so beautiful she can't tear her gaze away even if she wanted to.
And he's inviting her, that little play of his lips that means he knows what he's doing, and Kate loves it even as she resolves to screw it out of him, leave him gasping and arching his back under her.
She guides her cock home, as he raises his hips to meet her, free clean hand pushing one of his shoulders into the bed for leverage. The glitter swirls against his skin, transfers to hers then back again, and her eyes are on his as she doesn't spare him, moves in to the hilt without teasing. Not anymore. She's going to take him properly, it's what he's asking for.
The push into him is deep, fast, and there's ribbons of pain sliding up through him as her cock drives home. "Kate," Ollie gasps, grabbing at her arms, her back, finally her hips to anchor her into him. "Oh, jesus, it's ..."
It hurts, and it's exactly what he wants, Kate inside him and inescapable and all-encompassing. Her fingers curl almost delicately over his shoulder where she's holding him down, and there's a beautiful gleam gilding her skin where her body has met his. She looks like a goddess. But Ollie knows what kind of goddess she is, and fucking hell, he's a god along with her, isn't he?
"Fuck me," he growls, digging his fingers into her hips. "Don't hold back. You know it's what I want, and I know you want it too, Kate, darling. No holding back. Not between us." Moving one hand to her head, Ollie strains up enough to press his mouth against hers. "Leave me in pieces."
Kate knows it has to hurt, knows Ollie loves it, because even now he's pulling her in to the hilt, and she's seen the flash of sheer rightness in his eyes that he probably doesn't even realize is there--a wordless 'yes, this' in affirmation. She clenches hard around the end of the cock inside her to keep it there, the jerk of the movement making her clit shift against the ribbing of the silicone and making her moan. Because of that she has to stay there for a moment, panting and searching for breath, even as he's askingorderingbegging her for more.
She catches his hair as he moves up to kiss her, pulls him to her elsewhere even as her hips ease back so she can thrust back into him a second or two later. "Swear it to you. Never going to hold back again, cielo," she says against his mouth, punctuates it with a sharp nip of teeth and a twist of her hips that drives her cock in further on the next movement.
He's trying to kiss her but the way she fucks into him makes Ollie choke, his head tilting back and out of the kiss but then Kate's mouth is dragging down onto his chin and those are the only two things he's aware of right now, her hot open mouth and the incredible sharp rills of sensation following each pass of her cock inside him.
"Oh god, Kate," he says, voice strained and thin from his stretched throat, fingers too wet on her hips to keep purchase. "Don't stop, don't stop please don't stop I want --" Ollie has to stop there and collect himself because the words are running into each other.
Pushing his hips up to meet her thrusts makes him grimace, but the sudden rush of liquidy-warm desire that floods through him when her cock hits just right is too good to resist. "Fuck me," Ollie says through his teeth. "Jesus, I can't think of anything else, all I want, Kate, all I want is for you to fuck me."
Kate watches Ollie as best she can, though she's desperate to kiss him, sloppy and rough just like how she's fucking him. It's rare that she can see him come apart like this (for her only for her and the thought makes her ache from how amazing that feels--to be in love, here and now and so deep it's elemental).
She reluctantly eases her mouth away so she can see him beg, even if he catches himself and tries to turn it into an order. It makes her smirk, because he's not far enough gone yet, and she wants him beyond this, wants him to see how she needs him. Shifting her hips a little, her fingers dig into his hip, pull him upwards a little so that she's angling upwards a little more.
"Don't think, cielo," she murmurs, and tugs his hair back to expose his neck, drag her teeth against skin even as she's moving harder into him. "You and me, nothing else, let it go, let me show you how good it can be."
It was startling, made her eyes widen a little, for Kate to realize that she'd taken her own advice, was letting him see everything she wanted. No holds barred.
Kate's voice wraps around him, pinning him down and urging him forward at the same time, and it's all Ollie can do to keep it together. But then he looks at her (he HAS to look at her, he can't keep his gaze away, wanting to see what she's seeing), and when Kate's eyes widen, that tiny bit, it's like she's thrown open all her shutters. Just for him. And that means there's no need to cling on to control with his fingernails.
"Okay," Ollie says, angling his knees out to make the bracket of his hips wider, open himself out for her to get closer. "All right." None of the control issues, none of the seething voices in the back of his head telling him to man up, none of the reflexive instinct to be in power.
Instead he lets his bunched-up shoulders relax, lying back and letting his hands slide up Kate's sides, watching her breathe. "Do it to me, Kate," he murmurs. "Please, I need you to fuck me. My Katie. I want all of you, I want you to have all of me. Please, Kate. Take me."
His head's swimming, but he means every word.
It's good, because Kate doesn't want him to keep it together, not anymore. Not if this is how they're going to be--need to be--the two of them, bare and open, as close as two human beings could possibly be to each other, tangled that damn close. She's stopped moving for a moment, still deep within him, as if her body's recognized the import of the situation and taken it into consideration.
And so she sees the moment that he knows, that he realizes what they're doing, and it brings a relief into her chest that she didn't know was tense. If Kate had the time, maybe she'd analyze it, add it to the greater ongoing understanding of the dynamics of the relationship of Kate and Oliver. But he's under her now, pulling her into him a little with the touch of his hands on her...
And he's begging her, for real now, and she's got to move again. She brushes a kiss against the bite on his neck, then eases back to press in again, the faintest edge of friction and the force of her movement rubbing her clit against the ever-so-convenient ridges, though she's going to bring him off first, damn it.
"mmmmph," Ollie breathes when she moves into him again so firmly, the drag and pull of her not-quite-slick-enough cock making him gasp, soundlessly, mouth panting open. Now that Kate's coaxed this surrender from him, it's suddenly so much easier, all of it, like the last bit of grit and grime of doubt between them has flown out the window.
There's still the faintest scratch from all the glitter -- gilding Kate like a breastplate, now, and he can see where she's red and abraded from rubbing so hard against his chest -- insanely beautiful and strong and glorious as she rises and falls to pound her cock into him. His fierce woman, hungry for him flayed open underneath her.
So Ollie lets the gorgeous eager pain overwhelm him, lets his face screw up from the way she's shaking him down to the bones, lets his back arch when she twists this way or that, lets his mouth open so mindless pleading yes yes yesyesyes noises can patter out ceaselessly. He can't touch her because his fingers are twisted hard in the sheets. His cock rubs against her belly with every lunge she makes, and the push of her inside him combined with that is too much, too much.
"I love you," he tells her with the last scrap of clarity he has, and he can't even bring himself to be astonished or ashamed that it comes out a sob.
Kate aches, her cunt and muscles deliciously sore from holding the cock in her for so long, for moving so hard into Ollie, and it's almost like being rode hard herself, knowing she'll be tender in the morning. The thought of that, the thought of remembering this every time she moves, makes her blush and gasp a little.
The sound of it, of them moving, of her breathing rough and ragged, of him crying out and barely coherent, braids together, perfect. He's coming apart with each second, and she's so dangerously close to following him, to landing irrevokably in that headspace. And then he tells her he loves her, so desperate and true that it must be an axiom, universal law that they love each other--
--and it opens her as much as him. "I love you too," she gasps, and takes him in hand, needing him to come against her skin, warm and wet and somewhere that she can lick clean so she can take him into her in return.
When he comes he's not even quite sure it's happening? has happened? because it's one long golden green stream of bright, beautiful, blaring emotion and sensation that has him babbling her name like it's the only word he knows. It's the only thing inside him, Kate Kate Kate.
The slow, loving movements of her hand ease Ollie back into the breathing world, and even though he's spent and drained and exhausted, cored out, he can't help rising into her palm, wanting more of her touch. "You love me," he says, looking at the line of her shoulder, the curve of her hip. Wondrous. Precious. "You love me, Kate."
Still only half-aware of what he's fucking saying. But that's fine, between the two of them. Nothing is wrong, not anymore.
"Yes," Kate murmurs, and Ollie's cock is hot against her palm, her body so over-sensitive now that she's certain she can feel every flutter of his pulse against her skin as he comes, the twitches he can't control once he's done. "Yes, goddamn it, yes, I love you, Ollie, fuck..."
It's only reluctantly that she lets go of him, but she needs to raise her hand to her mouth, lick her fingers clean of him. Even so, she's still moving, her thrusts now not for his pleasure but for her own, the first one deep for the friction, then the next ones shallow and with a slow hard grind at the end of each of them so her clit is moving just right, just right.
But it's remembering how he called her name that sends her over the edge, with a sharp whimpering cry. The first shock of orgasm is quick, rough, almost too much so--but then she's somewhere between there and coming down, hanging for long seconds in the pleasure that's too much for her mind to process entirely so that it almost seems mundane until she tries to explore the depths of it.
Even so, it's gone too soon, and she whimpers again, bending to kiss his shoulder. "Oliver. Te amo, cielo, oh my god."
His mind clears up enough after he comes to get some sense back, Kate pushing into his fucked-open ass while her tongue darts between her fingers, Kate using her cock on her clit, Kate using him to get herself off. It's hotter than he could ever have imagined and Ollie eases his hips along her movements, not resisting, letting her do it. It's just shy of tipping over into unbearable rawness, but he's not about to stop now.
And that was a good call because it's then that Kate comes, making that keening noise, that high ringing call that means she's beyond thought as well, her orgasm pushing her beyond, the way his did.
When she bends down, he finally lets go of the sheets and brings his crumpled, red-streaked fingers up to gather her hair from her neck, pull it all up and over so it's spilling over her forehead and brushing his skin. "I missed you," Ollie tells her. "I don't want to ever be without you again." The words feel inadequate, but they're true. Everything would feel inadequate after what they just did together.
God, she's sore as hell, a deep amazingly pleasurable ache, though likely not as much as Ollie will by the morning. The thought of that makes Kate blush and smile softly at the same time, leaning down to press her face to his shoulder.
And, as always, just when she thinks she's able to handle it, to regain control, Ollie says something that breaks her to pieces, then puts her back together again. Kate makes a choked noise against his skin, leaning up a little so his fingertips stay against her neck and her shoulders. "I more than missed you," she whispers, because she can't think of a word stronger than missed right now, to explain the loss of it and how it feels to have him again.
She figures he'll understand what she means.
God, she's trembling now, has to ease out of him, let the silicone that was part of her, deep in him, fall to the bed, but then she's clinging to him once more. "Oliver, please," she says, but doesn't know what she's asking for until she says it. "Don't ever go again, oh god, please don't."
"I won't," he says without a thought, because really, there's no choice in the matter now. "I won't ever go again, Kate. It would be too wrong. It would hurt too much. More than anything."
She's shaking, and he is too. It's fine. It all seems fine now, now that they're together, more than they were before and in a way that they'll never be taken out of again.
"I just...I don't think I could do it again." Kate finds herself catching her breath, then, even though she hadn't been aware she was doing it. Her fingers clench in the bedclothes, wiping clean, before she rests her head against his shoulder, eyes closing. They're a mess, come and lube and blood and glitter, but she doesn't give a shit about cleaning up, not yet. Not when they have each other once more.
The smell of her -- of *them* -- is all around, thick in the air, and Ollie draws in a deep, hungry breath of it. He's still too fucked-out to be in any pain, but tomorrow'll be another story, for both of them. "Let's just stay in bed tomorrow," he says, drowsy but wanting to stay awake, soak up this feeling until he's saturated. "Let's not see or do anything, just you and me together with nothing else."
"Already wiped my calendar," she replies, easing up just a little so she can open her eyes, look at him, smile.