Hiding in the Rain

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Anticipation making her movements clumsy at best, she began to get herself ready to see him... again. It was getting to be a weekly thing with the two of them, and even looking ahead, she couldn't see it going bad. The way they were together, the easy friendship, the smooth flow of conversation, the way they seemed built for each other, even the way she fit in around his family. Nothing was forced, or faked, or part of her regular mask. Most people never got to know the real girl behind the façade she put forth, but with these people, this man, she didn't have to hide. She was herself and it was so easy to just be. If it flowed this comfortably with no effort on their part, what could possibly go wrong?

The house was spotless, a product of her inability to sleep through the excitement of his arrival. She was at her best; eyes shining, skin glowing. Even she had to admit that she looked better when she was around him. Odd, that. She could almost see pretty in herself when she was around him. She looked around, wondering if she'd missed anything. Seeing nothing left undone, she lay down on her bed for a moment or two to read a bit. Laughing, she realized that if he showed up while she was reading he would tease her for the rest of the weekend. It was another of those very cheesy romantic novels. An easy way to just relax for her; she could devour several of those a week. And she did. But she still caught hell for it.

Gravel crunched beneath tires and she started, realizing she had fallen asleep. She jumped off the bed, bouncing to the door, nearly flinging herself into his arms. He chuckled, pulling her off her feet and kissing the top of her head, "Hello angel." The past week, with all of the stresses that it brought, fell away leaving her energetic, happy, and alive. This man, only this man, could do that for her. She knew that, no matter what the problem, he was there for her. He might not be able to fix it, but he would always listen, always lend an ear.

She linked her fingers with his and started back into the house, but he held back, pulling her back against his chest. "Let's go get something to eat, angel. I've been in that car for hours and I am starving."

She smiled at him with a sparkle in her eyes and whispered, "I'm hungry too. When do I get to eat?" It was an ongoing joke between them, something they used when other people were around to talk dirty to each other, PG style. Her appetite for him hadn't cooled in the short time they had been intimate. If anything, it had grown hotter. It wasn't that he held nothing back, giving as good as he got. It wasn't the sex itself, although that was an inferno all its' own. It was the way he touched her while they made love. The way he held her; the way he talked to her, whispering in her ear. It was, she admitted, all in the rest of the things that had absolutely nothing to do with the act of sex.

He groaned and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Don't you ever get enough?"

She smiled back at him, shaking her head. "Nope," she whispered "and I hope I never do. Let's go eat." They got in the car and left, destination unknown.

She swiveled in her seat, one leg tucked beneath her, facing him so they could talk. Placing her hand somewhere between his knee and his hip, very casually, she asked him about his day. He told her about visiting with his grandparents, the wild drive in the city, how his new writings were coming along. Mundane. She listened very closely, smiling, nodding, adding things or responding where necessary. His grandparents, sweet though they might be, wore on him. They always gave him something to talk about as they constantly wanted him to do strange things, making odd requests and the like. It drove him insane, but kept her laughing, so he always shared those. With each new grandparent story, she would murmur, "Aww, poor baby" rubbing his leg a bit to "comfort" him. She wasn't certain, but fairly sure that he had no idea how far up his leg she was moving or what her plan was. And living in a big city didn't always prove as hilarious, but his thought processes while driving in heavy traffic tickled her to no end. She shared the mundane details of her week, which were usually limited to, "So, while I was at work today..." Nothing big, but he always listened and laughed with her.

It was while they were talking about which restaurant they were going to stop at for dinner that she reached the top of his thigh. He raised his eyebrows, pulling a "mad" look from his vault of fake expressions and leveled a stare at her. "What?" She, too, could play that game, pulling an "innocent and loving it" look from her own bag of tricks. He growled some objection at her, but it went ultimately unheard because at that exact moment, he twitched under her devious fingers, pulling a sliver of laughter from her lips. She ran fingers along the length of him, staring into his eyes. Almost expecting an objection, she opened his jeans and slid her hand inside them, sighing when skin met skin.

He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, surprising them both. In very short seconds, he was solid and hot in her hand and she had to bite back a groan when he twitched again. Wrapping her hand tightly around him, moving slowly, she watched him. Of all the things she loved most about him, the sheer enjoyment he took in everything was the biggest one. She may never know whether he was just very sensitive or if she did something different, but whatever the reason, the way he reacted to her touch would always thrill her in exactly the same way. She glanced around the parking lot, glad they had parked further away and leaned across the seat, first licking the very tip of his cock, then taking an inch or two then pulling away and blowing cool air on it. He fisted a hand in her hair, neither pulling her closer nor pushing her away... just needing something to do with his hands. One last time, she bent to nibble the spot just under the head, making him growl/groan before she sat back up, closed his pants, and opened the door.

She could hear the muffled curse, but she couldn't make out which word it was this time. She had nearly perfected the art of stopping and it was killing him more quickly than cancer. She should know. He told her all the time.

They ate without incident, his eyes delivering the message he couldn't say aloud in the restaurant. "You will pay for that." It was crystal clear and even more so because she knew it was fact.

The teasing always caught up to her at the end of the day. It was, she freely admitted, the whole reason she teased him the way she did. Well, that and the simple pleasure she took in making him moan. She shivered to herself. Yeah. That too.

The meal ended, they paid and got back in the car resuming the same position. Her facing him, one leg curled up under her body. They talked about religion, the weather, politics. It didn't matter, really. Their opinions could be one thing, but they would argue the other point just to have something to battle wits over. They hadn't been together long, but they were building a solid base for something strong. They both knew it and had stopped denying it. But it had taken work to get there. He stopped at the ice cream place and each picked their favorite, teasing the other about bad taste and such.

Back in the car, he mentioned a class reunion coming up and how he wanted her to be there. She thrilled to it because it was a small step forward for them. For a couple that had spent several weeks denying anything deeper than a physical attraction, making plans for even a short term future excited her. She was ready for whatever came next and willing to take each day as it came.

When they got back to her place, she turned on the radio to provide some background noise, and they relaxed on the couch, each with a different book; him upright against the back of the sofa, her with her head in his lap. Even that still amazed her; the ability to do absolutely nothing together. It was a genuinely comfortable relationship they shared, one she had looked for her whole life and she was distinctly aware of having found it, forcing herself to go slow.

He slid his hand up and down her arm absently as they read, occasionally tickling her, making her laugh. Before she could even register a change, he was stroking her ribs, then her chest, her neck. She glanced up to see what he was about, but his attention was fully engrossed in his book, so she went back to her own. A few short minutes passed and he had slipped his fingers under the neckline of her t-shirt. Again, she looked at him to see what he was up to, but he was still buried in his book. Frowning, she pretended to go back to her book. She even went so far as to turn pages. When she felt the direction of his hands change again, she looked up. This time there was a definite gleam in his eye and she called him on it. "Just what do you think you're doing?" She glared at him as scornfully as she could, but it was hard to hide the reaction of her body. Her skin began to goose bump, her nipples grew tighter under her shirt, disgustingly visible.

She shivered and laid her book to the side, preparing to stand up. He pressed the flat of his hand against her chest, laying her back down in his lap, grinning. "Nope," he said. "I am in the middle of this chapter. Be still."

She stared at him, jaw dropped, for a full five seconds before huffing a breath at him and rolling her eyes. Just gutsy. She laid there, arms folded across her chest as he read, waiting for him to give in. But her mind was racing, thinking of all the things he could do to her, the things he could do to her. She started wiggling, squirming a bit. Trying to get comfortable in his lap mostly, but well aware that her head rested just about where his cock should be. She rolled to her side, placing a hand on his thigh, rubbing her cheek where she could feel him beginning to grow. Smiling to herself, she reached for his zipper slowly, so he wouldn't notice her movement. With her hand on his fly, she grinned to herself, mentally applauding her impending victory. Not a twitch of a muscle or any warning at all, his hand covered hers, pushing it away. His concentration never broke. She would almost wager he didn't miss a word of his book, but he stopped her. Frustrated, hungry, wanting, borderline needy, she heaved a sigh of soap opera proportions and resumed the pouty child pose.

Hard and hot under her cheek, still he ignored the hunger in her sighs. It was costing him to do it, but he would keep this up until she begged. He would have it no other way. She teased and tormented him constantly, stopping just before he came every time. He was going to hear her say please if it killed him. Her wiggling and squirming was getting to him, no point denying that. He was rock hard and with the way she was laying in his lap, she had to know it. He resumed his own torture of her, teasing his fingers along her skin everywhere but the places she most wanted it. And then he heard it. The whimper. He almost had her, had very nearly broken through her control. He moved in for the kill, skimming his fingers as though by accident across her nipple. She moaned, lifting her back toward his hand looking for a harder touch and he allowed it. And then... "Please?" She broke and thank God for that because he wasn't sure he could have made it much longer.

He dropped the book he wasn't even reading to the side and scooped her up, wrapping her legs around his waist so he could kiss her finally. Deeply. A moan sounded somewhere deep inside her and he swallowed it, tasting need. Forgoing all the pleasantries, he braced her against the wall unbuttoning her pants with one hand, sliding them as far down as they would go with her legs around his waist, then setting her down to get them off her body. Picking her up again, he guided her hand to his pants, then slipped his hands under her shirt to skim across her ribs. It was one of the most sensitive spots on her body and made her shiver nearly every time. As aroused as she was, it was all sensitive, and she hissed through her teeth at him. Tearing at the button, and jerking the zipper down, she fought to pull his cock out of his pants. He slipped his hand between their bodies and, finding her wet, guided himself inside. It was fast, hard, and short but they came together anyway, anticipation having made them both impatient and very ready.

Leaning her head back against the wall, she struggled to tame her breathing. She could still feel him twitching inside her, the aftershocks of his orgasm, and it threatened to send her over again. She pulled him in tight for a quick kiss, whispering in his ear, "Love you." He slid himself free of her body, making them both shiver, and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. She laughed and beat her fists against his back as he climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Sliding her down his body slowly, pressing one last kiss to her temple, he laid her on the bed, following immediately after to lay at her side. She rolled to him, tucking herself into his chest and he curled his arm around her. Within minutes, both were sound asleep, a half smile on each of their faces. Sometimes it was so hard to believe that it could be this good.