Work Text:
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on you?”
He says the words right against her ear and she shivers, tilting her head to the side to allow the onslaught of his mouth over her skin.
“First year?” she guesses and her voice is so goddamned deep, breathless, teasing. If he’d had any idea she would sound like this, how pliant she would be once he’d fucked her, he never would have lasted as long as he had.
“First day,” he counters and she makes a small hum of acknowledgement, her shoulder rising up as he kisses the crux of it, lets his beard abrade the tender skin there.
“Took you long enough.” Her accusation carries no malice and he peels the lapels of his shirt away from her breasts, baring more of her to his hungry gaze and his laugh flutters over her skin.
Too fucking long, he agrees silently as he tongues the dip between her breasts. She tastes warm like honey and he can’t get enough of her. She seems to feel the same because her fingers curl over his shoulders, claw at the nape of his neck.
Her body is lucious. Long and thick in the best places, the heat between her thighs beckoning him closer, making his dick twitch at the memory of being inside her moments before.
In Rome, he had seen her face in the Sistene Madonna, imagined her body sculpted in The Three Graces. The reality of her is more erotic than anything he had envisioned for himself all those years away from her.
“Look at you,” he growls softly, taking her in his hands, drawing his thumbs around rosy nipples as she arches against his palms.
“I wish I had you spread out in my bed.”
“Next time,” she promises, grabbing the edge of the shipping crate she’s perched on to balance herself.
Next time. When he comes back to her. If.
Her long, slender leg curls around his hip and she strokes his ass with her foot, her head falling back on her shoulders when he takes one nipple between his lips and sucks her in until she cries out.
They had managed only to put on the most necessary of clothing after he’d taken her on the makeshift desk earlier, too wrapped up in each other to worry about more than sliding into his boxers and slipping his button down over her shoulders.
Not that it matters. The warehouse was a temporary waystation; a seedy, abandoned building chosen for its isolation. A safe place to say goodbye.
Only, their goodbye had turned into the start of something new; the two of them colliding together in a tangle of hot tongues and whispered obscenities as he fucked her against the crumbling brick wall.
Now, she reaches for him, slips her hand into his boxers to grasp him, her thumb swirling slowly around the sensitive head of his cock. He’s semi-hard already and he groans as her touch ignites him, wondering how he’s supposed to leave her again now that he knows what it means to bury his face in her neck and spill himself inside her.
“Look at me,” she demands, parroting his words back to him. His eyes find hers, dark and penetrating, and he remembers every time he’s lost himself there before. Every time he’s found himself.
“Do whatever it takes,” she tells him, and he hears what she doesn’t say, the things she would never tell him, the worry she would never voice. “Whatever you have to do.”
Come back to me.
He curls his hands around the base of her skull, his thumbs sweeping across her cheeks as he brings her face to his.
“I will,” he promises, slanting his mouth over hers.
He takes his time kissing her. Her hands work his cock into aching hardness and he thrusts in her grasp, lets her feel the truth of his desire for her.
“Want you again,” she gasps, ripping her mouth from his to kiss his shoulder, her fingers working adeptly to shove his boxers over his hips.
Threading one hand through her hair, he lets it cascade over his arm as he tugs her head back, their eyes meeting again as he slides his palm up her thigh to test the accuracy of her words.
“So wet,” he growls, plunging his fingers into her arousal, teasing her open before he wraps his glistening fingers around his cock.
She smirks. “Since day one.”
He thinks maybe she’s kidding, that she couldn’t possibly have wanted him as long as he’s wanted her, but the idea of it’s too much to process when he’s centimeters away from burying himself to the hilt inside of her.
Again.
“You want me to fuck you again?” He presses his cock to her opening, drags it up to her clit, again, again, and he watches her eyes glaze as she struggles to keep them open.
“Yeah,” she whines in this voice that nearly makes him come right there.
“Watch, then.”
He pushes himself inside her, inch by aching inch, his hand wrapped around the base of his erection grinding against her pelvis once he’s in deep.
And then he pulls out, rubs her clit again, starts the whole process over, and she bites her lip around a whimper.
“You’re so tight,” he groans.
“I can be tighter,” she promises and she clenches around him like a vice, bringing her knees high up his back.
His palm curls around her throat, the other around her waist, and he begins to move then, too enraptured by her to tease her any longer.
Before, they’d clung together greedily, reaching for everywhere all at once, trying to experience every sensation they’d denied themselves for so long.
Now, she slips an arm around his neck and holds on as he fucks her, the rhythm instantly brutal and demanding. He knows he’s got it right when her moans become pleas and she claws at his shoulder, his chest, her open mouth gasping for air every time her body envelopes his.
“Lean back,” he grunts, sliding his arms under her knees as she complies.
He lifts her legs high up his arms, uses the weight of his body to push her knees against her chest, plants his palms on either side of her. She cries out at this new angle and reaches for his thighs, her fingernails digging into his skin as begins to push inside her so damn deep he can feel his balls slap against her ass.
“Like this?”
“Fuck yes,” she moans and he grins, unable to look away from her face as he picks up the same punishing rhythm as before.
Nearly twenty-five years he’s waited to have this woman underneath him and now that he does, he feels like the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.
“Gonna come for me?” he asks, knowing the answer already if the noises she is making are anything to judge by.
“Not the first time,” she promises and he hisses her name, grabs her breast in retaliation, and she arches up into his touch.
After that, they don’t speak, can’t, every breath of air between them too labored and quick to form words.
He feels her orgasm rip through her first, her body nearly coming up off the crate as every muscle inside of her suddenly contracts in pleasure.
It’s the sight of her, the sounds she makes, the knowledge that he’s the one making her come apart, that sets his own climax into action and he feels his balls tighten and his hips piston forward with abandon until his release unfurls inside him.
She pulls him down on top of her and he presses his forehead against her neck, breathing in the scent of them on her skin until he feels his heart rate begin to even out.
He pushes himself up on his elbows and smiles down at her when she looks back at him. Her face is solemn but he brushes his nose against her, peppers her face with kisses until she’s finally willing to smile back.
“Next time,” he murmurs against her mouth, repeating her promise from earlier. “Next time, I’m not letting you go until I’m done with you.”
She blinks and he wonders for a second if she’ll do it, if she’ll put voice to the thing she’s never admitted. The thing he’s always known.
Instead, her smile turns feral.
“Next time, I’m tying you to my bed.”