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"What the hell's taking you so long, eh? I coulda swum to India and picked meself a cuppa in the time you've been in here." John's long arms went easily around Paulie's waist, the flat of her pelvis pressing up against the curve of Paulie's backside.
"It's been five minutes, John," Paulie said. "Had to boil the kettle first, didn't I?" Her tone was chiding, but John's hands were strong and warm on the spurs of her hipbones through the borrowed jeans, and already, she could feel the heat skipping up her spine, the tingles that caught her up when John was close.
"It's been forever," John countered, sounding disgruntled. She leaned in, rubbed the tip of her nose against the bolt of Paulie's jaw, and Paulie shivered at the hot breath on her neck, then the feather-light touch of John's lips.
"John..." Her hands moved automatically to cover John's, pressing lightly on the backs. She wanted to be strong, to be the sensible girl she'd been brought up to be, but already she doubted her capacity for it, to maintain her sanity when John touched her. What was it about John? She only had to look at Paulie to set her pulse pounding, fast in her throat and hard between her legs. One touch, fingers to the inside of Paulie's wrist or lips to the nape of her neck, and she'd be wet, aching, pelvis tense with the urge to thrust up against something. John's hand would do. John's thigh, John's mouth. John made her crazy, turned her into this wanton thing she wanted to be ashamed of, but could not.
John didn't believe in shame.
"Mmm?" A brush of lips to the soft skin behind Paulie's earlobe, and then another, this time damply open-mouthed. John's thumb traced a line down the spur of Paulie's hipbone, and Paulie felt it in a hot spasm between her thighs, a gush of wet want that made her gasp.
"Oh," Paulie said weakly, head lolling slightly in automatic response to John's touches, and John laughed, slid a hand down to cup Paulie between her legs, her palm warm and her grip firm.
"You weren't going to say we can't," John murmured against the curve of Paulie's throat, "were you?"
Paulie's breath hitched, and John pushed closer, her middle finger rubbing along the seam at the crotch of Paulie's jeans. Paulie swallowed, thighs clenching automatically, and John made an appreciative sound, pressed a kiss to the nape of Paulie's neck. "That's my girl."
She popped the button one-handed, deft twist of the wrist and then a slow tug to part the stubborn teeth of the zip. Paulie shivered, and when John touched her through her damp knickers, she couldn't resist a whimper, hips bucking.
Behind her, John was shifting, too, hips rocking just slightly against the curve of Paulie's arse as she pressed with two fingers, circling slowly. "Come upstairs," John whispered. Another kiss to the back of Paulie's neck, clinging for a moment, and then a wet touch of tongue that made Paulie convulse with shivers.
"Why?" Paulie managed, though her voice shook and she knew why, how could she not? But there was something about the way John laughed at her pretended ignorance, and then the way John's hand twisted deftly until -- oh -- her fingers crooked down beneath the thin cotton of Paulie's underwear, delving into her wetness, grazing her bare clit.
"Well," John said, very reasonably, "I could always give you head in the kitchen, but I don't think your dad would think much of that."
Paulie's thighs slackened automatically, letting John's fingers slip a little deeper until the tips pushed shallowly inside of her, touching the sensitive place just at the entrance. Her breath was ragged, now, and John was so warm against her, the palm of John's hand bluntly working Paulie's clit while her fingers moved idly, and God, these damn tight jeans were a fucking encumbrance.
"Stop," Paulie managed with an effort, her fingers stilling John's hand at the wrist, and then, "Upstairs."
John's smile was smug at that, predatory, but it only made the urgency flare more hotly in Paulie's gut as John withdrew her hand and moved towards the stairs.
John stormed into the bedroom like an invading army seizing possession; Paulie followed obediently, the flutter-rush of her pulse in her throat holding her back from any protest. The door clicked shut, then the latch. Nobody was due to be home for hours yet, but they never dared take any chances.
"Off," John said, nodding towards Paulie's opened jeans as her hands went to the buttons of her own, and Paulie moved immediately, tugging at the denim with inelegant haste. Elegance didn't seem to matter much when Paulie knew that the quicker she disentangled herself, the quicker she'd have John's warm weight between her thighs, John's clever mouth on her throat, and anyway, there was no ladylike way to get out of jeans, so it only wasted time to try. Jeans kicked aside, Paulie fell back on her elbows on the bed and John was on her in an instant in t-shirt and knickers, shouldering in between her spread thighs..
John ground down against her immediately, braced on her arms over Paulie's body, hips rolling in a firm, steady motion that pressed their cunts flush together, knickers damp between. John's strong hand cupped the back of Paulie's head and Paulie let herself be guided, lay down the rest of the way and opened her mouth to John's, their tongues stroking restlessly over each other.
It was always startling to Paulie that John, with her sharp features and sharper tongue, should pay such thorough and enthusiastic attention to kissing. Tough boys didn't like kissing much, as everyone knew, and in every other way, John might have been as tough a boy as any other Paulie had ever come across. But her kisses… Paulie was helpless the moment John's mouth touched hers, the soft, searching touches of John's tongue to the smooth inside of her cheeks and the ridges of her soft palate pounding through her in waves of heat. By the time John ducked her head to nuzzle at the underside of Paulie's jaw, they were rutting against each other in earnest, fingers digging bruise-hard into each other's hips, the pressure building up fiercely between Paulie's legs.
"Fuck," she murmured, the word still strange and adult in her mouth. She threaded her fingers into John's hair, rolled her hips up hard against John's just for the satisfaction of hearing her breath stutter. She could feel the long muscles clenching and lengthening in John's thighs as she moved, could feel the soft weight of John's breasts against hers, but still there was too much between them. She tugged at the collar of John's t-shirt. "Johnny --"
"Yeah." John braced herself on one hand, the other fumbling messily with the back of her shirt, ruching up the fabric at the nape of her neck as she awkwardly hauled it upward. Paulie reached a hand to help, and between them they got it over John's head and off. Then John was down again, mouthing at the tendon in Paulie's throat, and Paulie felt the tingle all the way into her fingertips as she snapped the clasp of John's bra. It slipped forward, and John shrugged it aside impatiently, the ripple of her shoulders catlike, drawing Paulie's hands. John was all shoulderblades in this position, and Paulie's fingers found an obvious hold on her upper back, feeling the shift of muscles as John's kisses dipped lower, finding the hollow of Paulie's throat, the ridge of her collarbone. By the time John set to work on the buttons of her blouse, Paulie's head was thrown back, her breaths coming short and hard. John was quick, spreading the blouse open in a matter of seconds, and Paulie let herself be lifted, let John strip her of the blouse and undo the catch of her cumbersome bra. The next thing she knew, John had one of her breasts in each hand, pebbled nipples caught between her fingers, and Paulie groaned low in her throat.
John half-laughed, moved up over her so their mouths could catch and part again. Paulie felt the drag of John's nipples against her bare skin, and reached between their bodies to squeeze the soft heaviness of her breasts.
John broke away, panting, and Paul was pleased to note the pinkness of her mouth, kiss-bitten, and the wild heat in her eyes. When she shifted downwards, Paulie whined faintly in protest, but then John's mouth was hot and firm around Paulie's nipple, her knuckles offering a welcome pressure between her legs, and, yes, Paulie wanted that.
She rolled her hips up, rutting against the firm ridges of John's knuckles, but John was an unfair and horrible tease and the warm hand kept withdrawing, just slightly, and then dipping again, grinding just too-lightly while John's mouth traced the underside of Paulie's breast, then the centre of her breastbone. This was John's way, the withdraw and retreat, teasing until Paulie's legs were shaking and her back was arching restlessly off the bed, but John looked restless enough herself, and Paulie wasn't much in the mood for waiting.
"Johnny, come on." The muscles in John's shoulders flexed under her palms, and then the hot amber gaze darted up towards her, half-laughing.
"You pushin' me around, Paulie?"
Paulie lifted her chin defiantly. She could feel John's breath warm in the dip of her navel, now, setting goosepimples rising on her thighs, and she was so close to where Paulie wanted her; so close.
And yet not close enough. "Yes," Paulie said, cupping a hand around the back of John's skull and canting her hips upward. "Get to it."
The ragged breath John drew through her teeth was more than reward enough for Paulie's bluntness; she didn't miss the way John's eyes closed momentarily as she ducked her head, pressed the flat of her cheek hard against the place where Paulie's dampness had seeped through the cotton of her underwear. It was a strange sort of pressure, this; at once diffuse and direct. Paulie groaned, and John groaned too, turned her face, mouth open. Paulie felt herself clench, cunt fluttering emptily around nothing at the sensation of John's warm breath against her, and then John's tongue, its heat blunted by a layer of cotton.
"Oh, Jesus," Paulie managed, clutching at John's hair, and John must have been gone, because there was no smart-arse remark in return, just a sudden coolness as John lifted her face and hooked her fingers in the waistband of Paulie's knickers.
The coolness was only momentary. A heartbeat later, John was settled between Paulie's legs again, all long back and soft hair fallen forward to skim Paulie's thighs. Her hands slipped underneath, strong and certain, lifting, and then her mouth slid hot and open between Paulie's parted thighs in the sweetest kind of kiss. Paulie whimpered, pelvis tilting upward automatically, and John moved with it easily, the flat of her tongue working in broad strokes through wet heat until it found the source, dipped inside.
When she touched herself, Paulie didn't often bother with anything other than firm, easy strokes to the clit. But with John -- when John worked her up and teased her into submission like this -- there was something about it that was everything Paulie wanted, everything she needed. John's tongue, at first, fucking shallowly, finding some strange secret place just inside Paulie's body that seemed to light her up everywhere, and then John's fingers, crooking inward when her tongue retreated, filling up everything that felt like an aching, empty space. Paulie was shivering, now, could feel the muscles fluttering in her thighs, but John was nosing at her clit and flickering her tongue against it and they were both groaning, John's hips working helplessly down against the mattress as Paulie ground up against her face.
"Oh, fuck, oh Christ, oh fuck --"
Johnny was proud of that, of teaching little Paulie to swear; but Paulie had never quite known the value of the words until John had fucked her hard enough to shake them out of her. Now, like this, Paulie was shaking, John's clever fingers slicking in and out of her, her mouth finding purchase on Paulie's clit and sucking, sucking, sucking. John always held off with that until Paulie was close like this, until her hips were jerking and her belly was spasming and her thighs were lifting shakily around Johnny's shoulders; until she was arching her back and keening and her cunt clutching at Johnny's fingers and oh fuck oh fuck John's mouth, finding her right where everything was building, right where she needed --
It burst up and out of her, as always, like a fucking exorcism. Between her thighs, John was shivering too, moaning and mouthing at her until the spasm passed and Paulie could fall onto her back again, part her legs. John withdrew her hand slowly, looking dazed, and Paulie felt a snarled pulse of gratitude and muted want.
"Jesus Christ." John's voice was strained, almost reverent; her fingers were slick and shimmered in the afternoon light as John put them to her mouth, withdrew them clean. Paulie groaned.
"Gimme a second."
"Second for what?" John threw herself onto the bed like a skein of silk, all long and elegant and gorgeous. Her thighs parted easily and without shame, her fingers slipping between.
Paulie's pulse was still thundering like a steam train, but she couldn't resist. "Oh, give over." She pulled herself up onto her elbow, propped over John, and her left hand tracked its way down John's flat belly, lower. John smiled slowly up at her, and withdrew her hand.
"Oh, I see," she said softly. "All yours."
"It better be," Paulie said.
John opened her mouth as if to respond, but Paulie was faster, her mouth catching at John's as her fingers slid into her wetness, finding her easily, circling. John groaned against Paulie's lips, arched her back, and god, yes, she must have been touching herself already because Paulie could already tell that she was close. That thought sent a wayward flush of heat through Paulie's stomach and her fingers stuttered, then picked up pace, her tongue rubbing hotly against John's. John shivered, seized up, as she always did just before, and that was Paulie's cue to keep going, to keep on kissing Johnny's slack breathless mouth and rubbing at her clit until Johnny's thighs flew up and clamped around Paulie's hand, stilling it abruptly as she came.
Afterwards, John always looked curiously innocent, something sleepy and childlike about her eyes. Probably, it was partly shortsightedness, but Paulie felt fond, still, looking up and seeing that. John's smile was fond, too, and the arm she reached out shakily for Paulie.
"Hey," she said, in that slightly coarse, sex-roughened voice that Paulie so loved. It sounded like John after a night on the town, belting out rock'n'rollers; it sounded like them.
"Come here," John said, tugging Paulie's head down onto her shoulder, and Paulie went without resistance, seeing no reason not to. They were a team, she and John, a good team. And they'd only get better.