Sweet Talk 1

"I want another."

She grinned at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, pulled her hair into a high ponytail. "Greedy. I'm running out of inventive places to put your bruises."

"Please. Tonight." He turned and grabbed her, his arms melting around her. On his chest was a bruise, just beginning to ripen. She kissed it. "Ma'am." He purred the word into her hair, began nuzzling at her neck.

She smiled up at him and caught his mouth with hers, kissing him to quiet his pleas. "Always trying to sweet-talk me, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Obviously."

"I love it when you do."

"Really?" The surprise flickered in his voice with enough force that the moment the words came between them he instantly regretted it. "Good."

Though it was an attempt at saving face, she laughed anyway; a gentle noise that lilted upward, hit him right in the chest.

"I like it. I take it as a compliment that you're still trying to woo me."

"Of course I am." He said, tilting her in his grip. "Keeping the romance alive and all."

"The bruises." She rubbed his chest.

"What about them?"

"When you feel them remember I love you."

"I know you do." He said. "I see it as...a shorthand. Our currency, I suppose."

"Oh, this isn't a business deal." She chided. "You know that." She batted at him, laughed as he grabbed her again. "And it would have nothing to do with simply angling for sex, would it? All this sweet talk." She stroked his face, remained deadpan despite the hot ache within her.

"Nope."

"Nothing to do with the fact your hand is edging under my towel?" she kissed him again, let him pull the thin, white fabric away and carry her towards the bed. He fell backward and took her with him into creaking springs and disarrayed sheets.

"Utterly coincidental," He sighed, the words blooming upward from between a flurry of more snatched kisses.

"Well then," She said, "So long as that's settled." She laughed, pulled off his t-shirt. "We've nothing to worry about."

"Nothing."

"Liar." She ran her hand over his skewed underwear, pulled his cock free.

"I was watching you in the shower."

"Oh?" She sighed languidly, "You're blaming me for this?" Another jerk of his hardening flesh followed.

"I know better than to do that." He said, brushing her hair from her face. "You smell so good, you know?"

"Thank you." She discarded his underwear, luxuriated in the feel of their warm bodies weighted against each other. "Do that thing with my tits," she said, "you know where you rub me. I love that."

"This thing?" He leant back, moved his flattened palms over the soft curve of her belly and up, over her nipples, cupping the flesh there. He felt her nipples begin to harden under his touch, the skin yielding upwards prickling with goose-flesh despite the warmth, a long purr coming with it. Soon enough, let his fingers sink between her thighs and split apart her darkening labia.

At first he was tentative, letting her set the pace, her body opening up for him like some rare flower until she puller him nearer, their mouths meeting, his fingers exchanged for his cock. He let out a small gasp of surprise.

"What?" she rolled onto her side, fixed her dark eyes on him. "Not backing out on me, are you?" Her voice was mellifluous. "Unless you are?" Just as fast she turned serious again, her body pulling away from his. "Are you? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No." He said. "Just surprised, that's all. You're usually more of a night person."

"A night person who knows my boy will be a petty brat all day unless I give him what he wants."

"Oh." He moaned, his face creasing. "Don't say that. I hate to think I'm being indulged."

"It's okay." She smiled. "Hardly a chore, is it?"

"I suppose not." He bent, caught her lips with his and soon enough she turned it back into grasping, urgent need. "Thought I'd chance it."

"I noticed."

They lay out, feet tangled in the kicked back sheets for a while and listened to one another breathe, the pipes in the apartment tick as time spun, suspended itself. Though they were silent, the familiar touches and signals crackled between them. He pulled her nearer, buried his face in her neck, let her smell push down into every part of him as though to do so would allow him to carry her with him always. He kissed her forehead, smiled down at her. "What are you doing?"

"Rubbing your back." The words came out muffled as she spoke, her breath skittering across his chest.

"I know but your nails - it's a little rough." The final word was choked out, the letters clinging to a coughed groan.

"I know."

"Would you like to stop?" He asked, laughing.

"Not really." she said. "I like those noises I'm getting out of you."

"Fuckingshit."

"Ooh." she sat up, reached down towards his chest. "That was a good one."

He blushed, laughed into the pillow. "Always the fucking noises."

"Look at me." her hair trailed over his shoulder, she kissed his cheek. "Don't be embarrassed. It's lovely. I love it."

He looked up at her, calm, tentative, some unspeakable thing behind his eyes. She knew what it was, pulled it out like it was a splinter, some piece of psychic lint.

"No need to be embarrassed." She whispered. Her teeth grazed his ear, made him mewl. "I'm serious." Her voice was hardening now, calcifying with desire. "Keep this coy, cute thing up and I'll have no choice but to ravish you."

"Really?" He looked up, his voice dripping with sunlight. "You will?"

She punched him squarely on the chest, gentle at first, like she was fooling. Then harder to denote the severity of her intent. The third blow was harder still and she nodded, silent, let the actions speak for her. Wordless, she pushed his arms out, forced him to move so that he had no choice but to lay out. He watched her climb onto him and settle, her bottom in his lap, catlike, smiling.

"I never feel like you know how beautiful you are to me." she said. "I never really said it to men but you are."

"Thank you." He rubbed her thigh. "Even after all this time?"

"Because of all this time." She corrected.

Before he could return the compliment she began again which made him tense, self conscious. Punching him, scratching, leaning down occasionally to nip at his neck or shoulder all the while cooing sweetnesses at him. Ordinarily, he would have looked away, laughed, lay on his side and settle into the blankets with her as she spoke, but today he had no choice but to watch and listen, to take her ministrations with the air hissing through his teeth. He was pinned beneath her and while he had spent so long wishing, dreaming, desperate for this, the reality made him feel vaguely uncomfortable, even now. Like someone had picked his brains and shook out his most valuable secret. After so long hidden in the dark of his mind to have it out, wriggling in front of him was quite, quite different. He sighed because he knew she knew and was intent on making him feel normal about it. And look at her, he thought, she seems so calm, so cool about it all.

The thought vanished quickly enough when she stopped mid-flow and kissed him again, too overwhelmed for much else.

"I know it's been a while." She said. "Since we played, but I'd just like to keep things sweet, sweet vanilla today. Okay?"

He laughed. "You're sat on me, I don't think I have much choice. I think the dynamic is pretty much-" he gestured with a flap of his hands between them.

"Inherent? Ingrained? Imbued?" She laughed, offered up the words between planting kisses on his face. "I know." She pressed her cheek against his, licked his ear, let him turn the laughter to lust and grabbing hands, the familiar, silence returning as they kissed. "Always my boy, always my love."

"I can't wait to make you come."

Laughter frothed upward from her, her fingers in his hair. He lay his hands on her belly, kissed her wrist. "Oh,oh, oh - you know what to say to me, don't you?" She looked down at him. "You really are trying to win me over."

"I thought you liked it?"

"I prefer it when you show me instead. There's still far too much talking going on."