John pulled her closer to him by her hips and untied the drawstring at her waist. She let the ill-fitting sweatpants fall to the floor, and kicked them away. He ran his hand down the side of her thigh, and back up again, reaching behind her to cup her ass and pull her closer to him.
Leah could feel his sizeable hardness pressing against her, and she pushed him away enough to make space for her to unbuckle his belt. While she fumbled with it, John ran his hands over her back under her shirt and was pleased to find she wasn't wearing a bra. He hated fumbling with them; much easier this way, he thought as he moved one hand forward to cup her breast, brushing her nipple with his thumb. Leah bit his lip in response as she finally pulled his belt free. She felt the whiskey burning through her blood, ignited by the heat of him so near her, but she wasn't drunk anymore. She was intoxicated all right, but on John, not alcohol. She closed her eyes at how good his hands felt on her body, and the stubble on his jaw scraping against her skin. His body was hard and warm, and hers for the moment. And her body was his, as he pulled her shirt free over her head, being considerate with her injured arm.
With the blasted belt out of the way, she turned her attention to his fly and managed that somewhat easier. She reached down and took him into her hand, exploring him. She pushed his jeans down with her other hand, until they were low enough that he could kick them off. She took his hands and walked backward toward the bed, pulling him with her.
John hesitated, and Leah swallowed at the heat of his gaze fixed on her eyes. She took his face in her hands and pulled him closer to kiss her, but John pulled away, looking down at her. "I don't know if this is such a good idea. It doesn't really feel right. You're not exactly here because you want to be."
Leah smiled sarcastically up at him and said, "You're not taking advantage of me. If anything, I'm taking advantage of you by luring you into bed so I won't be terrified all night. Don't worry. I'm not reading anything into it. It's just sex. I promise you're not going to wake up tomorrow to find me making a wedding scrapbook."
She laid back on the bed and pulled him down on top of her. She ran her hand over his bicep and up his arm to his shoulder, reveling in the distinctly male feel of him. "But if you don't want to, I completely understand," she said, moving one knee out from under him so that both of her legs were around his hips. He closed his eyes and submitted to his urges. She felt so good under him, and he had done everything he could to make sure she was not under the influence of alcohol or microbes. All he wanted right now was to succumb to the want inside of him for human connection; to touch something without hurting it. To make someone feel good instead of making them bleed.
John kissed her on the mouth, soft at first, and then hard, nudging her lips open with his tongue. He again tasted the hard whiskey on her soft tongue, and sighed at the warmth of it; at the sweetness of her kissing him back, matching his rhythm. Her hands roamed over his back, gently but needful. He moved his kisses along her jaw and down her neck, inhaling her scent where it was strongest; where her pulse throbbed, quickly. He kept his mouth there, where he could drink in her smell and moved his left hand to cup her breast. He thumbed her nipple gently and smiled to himself when he heard her gasp lightly. He moved his mouth away from her neck to cover her nipple, tasting her in a different way, his tongue matching what his thumb had been doing. Leah arched her back to give him more of her flesh, and grasped his upper arms. She hadn't had a man, a strange man no less, naked in her bed in a long time, and she had missed the gasoline and fire of it. The heat of his different-ness. She was soft flesh and smooth skin; he was hard muscle and rough callouses. He held himself above her so that she could feel how much more he weighed than she, but without making her feel trapped or crushed. He was good at this.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away and to the side, signaling to him that she wanted to roll over. He obliged, rolling them smoothly so that their positions were reversed. He brushed her hair back and buried his hand in it as fell over his face while she licked his earlobe and nibbled down his jaw before kissing him on the mouth again. She sat up so that she was straddling his waist and looked down at him, smiling. He was beautiful with the moonlight streaming in from the window cast across his face.
His eyes met hers with hunger, but still held the sadness she'd sensed earlier. That would be a question for another time. She may not always know when to keep her mouth shut, but now was one of those rare times she did. She looked down at his chest while she ran her hands across the muscles of it and down to his stomach. She saw several puckered knots and lines, and ran her fingertips lightly over the scars, as though trying to read their stories. It was clear he had known a lot of pain over the years, and she suspected it was not all physical. She moved her hand to his, where it rested on her hip, and ran hers down his arm and across his shoulder, across the line of his clavicle, and then gently up and over his Adam's apple. She brought her fingertips to his mouth, and he kissed them while she moved her hips up, giving herself room to grasp him in her hand and lead him inside her body.
Leah closed her eyes and breathed out sharply as she lowered herself fully on to him, and began to rock slowly against his body. His grip on her hips tightened, and he watched her, moving above him with her eyes closed. She felt so warm around him, so natural, not rushed or frantic. He matched her movements, feeling his blood heat up and sweat start to form on his skin. The room was chilly, but neither of them felt cold at the moment.
Leah felt him watching her, but oddly didn't feel self-conscious about it. It was almost insulating, knowing that he was a stranger. He didn't know about any of her hang ups, he wasn't trying to show her what he liked, so she could please him during an extended relationship. It was just what it was, with no pressure or expectations. They were just two people doing what came naturally. She felt herself slipping into a higher state of pleasure, and braced her arms on his chest.
John felt her posture change, and sat up, putting his arm around her waist and rolling over with her so that she was under him. He kissed her deeply and resumed their rhythm. Resting his forehead against hers, he heard her breathing quicken and she moaned softly. Feeling his own pleasure build, he put one hand against the side of her face and kissed her again, moving fast. She arched her back against him and wrapped her legs around his waist, matching his thrusts. Both sweating, their skin slid against each other's and the feel of her hot, damp skin was driving him crazy. He struggled to hold himself back, wanting to make sure she had a chance to get there with him.
Leah wrapped her arms through his and gripped his back tightly, urging him on. Her pleasure was building rapidly, and she lifted her head to find his mouth with hers, kissing him hard and fast, her tongue probing his, mingling their breath as she shuddered.
"Don't stop, please," she whispered, and nipped at his jaw. She was on fire; every nerve was oriented to his body. John quickened his pace started to let himself go when he felt her body tighten around his and her moan of pleasure. Burying his face in her neck, he growled with his own release, and their bodies slowed gradually, until they both lay still in the moonlight, breathing hard.
****************
Leah ran her hands through John's hair and rested them on the back of his neck as she listened to his breathing grow more normal. The cold in the room was starting to chill the sweat on her skin, but the heat of John's body and his weight on hers was keeping it from bothering her. He had his head tucked down, on her shoulder, and was running his fingers over her shoulder and halfway down her upper arm, then back up again. This was the part she dreaded. She wanted to stay in this pleasure-bubble as long as she could, where they could just speak with their bodies and not have to figure out what to do next. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but refused to stoop to such a cliché. He seemed satisfied to lie here longer, and so was she.
John was trying but failing not to think. He was disturbed to find that he seemed to be having the start of feelings for Leah. 'Stop acting like such a woman,' he told himself. 'You've fucked without catching feelings before, this shouldn't be any different.' But still, she brought something out in him that he'd rather have kept stuffed away in the shame box of his soul closet. Say these feelings grew, and he let her know about it; she would end up dead. Dead or hating him. It was always some minor variation on one of those themes. He couldn't do that to her. He was poison to the people he cared about. He just wanted to enjoy these few minutes of peace he had with her, and then try to get her back to her life. That was the best way he could take care of her; show her he cared, even if she wouldn't understand it.
