butterflyfactor | (no subject)

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jamie

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Even with how long the walk back to the house is, I'm still tipsy when we get there. Not drunk- I can walk a straight line and recite the alphabet backward, but I would probably find it way more amusing than under normal circumstances. I'm at least glad I wore sneakers instead of real heels. It probably made things easier than I realize. But again- tipsy. Not drunk. Jamie isn't the only one harboring concerns over things he might do under the influence that he's otherwise resolved not to. At least, not just yet.

Layla pushed the door to the house open and knelt to catch Richards before he could run out, part of her dress still gathered in one hand as it had been for most of the walk.

"Hey, there, champ. No wild parties while we were out?"

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Drawing his feet up onto the mattress, he steadied himself underneath her for a moment, knees bent on either side of her. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions, crammed sideways on the bed like that, though that wasn't much of a concern with her on top of him. Still, it could benefit from an improvement. Fingers splaying over the small of her back, he pulled her flush against him, keeping her close as he rolled them over so that they were then laying lengthwise. The sudden movement left him more than a little breathless as he appreciated the new vantage point, sliding further down her body even as he ran his hands up her sides.

Stop the fucking presses, Jamie Madrox just took charge.

Layla gasped at the change in position, the change in weightiness and what pressed where, and how his body felt warm and over her instead of beneath. She moved instinctively to fit against him better, knees hitching over his hips, small of her back pressing up. She stretched in the direction his hands moved, moving her body with them and dragged her lips against his jaw to his ear. Passive had never been Layla's strong point, and there were a million ways to be active in any situation, even if you didn't ostensibly have the upper hand.

"My earlier warning still stands," he murmured, pressing quick, fleeting kiss to the line of her jaw, her neck, down her shoulder. For a moment he sucked the hollow of her throat, eyes flicking upwards to catch her reaction as he very deliberately rolled his hips forward against hers. "Just say the word."

Layla would have bet even money that to anyone with fewer available points of view on life her reaction was pretty definite: Her head fell back, the line of her throat taught as her whole body pulsed upward for a moment, and she moaned softly, rocking back against him out of an impulse for more because that had been excellent. It lasted the space of a moment- two, at the outside- but it was a lot to have happen very quickly. She dropped her chin back down so she could kiss him, although she had to settle for the side of his cheekbone, first, and then the corner of his mouth before she properly found his lips.

Edited 2010-06-23 07:59 (UTC)

There were worse reactions. While there was a part of him that wanted to give into the impulse of blindly grinding against her, he had enough control to keep that much, at least, in check. It was her first time, after all, not his, and he had better ideas on how to give her more of what she was looking for, though his mouth was otherwise occupied at that moment. Easing out of the kiss, he lowered himself further down her body, lips barely grazing her skin until he was distracted once more by her breasts. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed the flat of his tongue over one nipple, sucking on her warm skin. Then, shifting so that he could lean his weight to one side, he snaked a hand between them, greedy fingers seeking out the inside of her thigh.

One action alone would have been enough to elicit a moan from her. The series of movements, the feel of his mouth and the sudden, immediate presence of his fingers combined were more than enough. Her hips rolled up a little as her body adjusted under his attentions and she sighed almost fitfully. Her hands slid into his hair, fingernails dragging gently against his scalp, for lack of anything else to do.

Where his mouth stayed sure, trailing wet, lingering kisses down her abdomen, the same could not be said for his fingers. His thumb brushed against the thin cotton of her panties, teasing and tentative, and he kept his gaze locked on her face, looking for any signs of discomfort, any reason he ought to stop. They hadn't gotten much further than this the last time, and with that benchmark fast approaching, it was hard to think of much else.

Layla sighed and tossed her head, almost fitfully, far too deeply entrenched in the here and now, for once, to think about the future. Whatever it could have been couldn't have been too bad. Her lashes fluttered for a moment before she opened her eyes to look down at- Jamie's eyes, apparently. She met his gaze and bit her lip, the opposite corner tugging almost wryly and not at all shyly up. It would have been coy, on anyone else it would have been blushing and tentative, but Layla couldn't play at that, even if she had legitimate reason to.

Mostly, the look was affectionate, though it was also wanting.

Jamie stopped what he was doing, fingers stilling against her as he lifted his mouth from the dip of her hip, licking his lips as he looked up at her through narrowed eyes. She was beautiful, but he already knew that. She also wasn't pushing him away, which was somehow surprising and unsurprising at the same time. Pulling himself further down the bed so that he was situated comfortably between her legs, he sat up, slightly, his thumbs hooking under the elastic of her underwear.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

Hell, she already has.

Layla pressed her lips together for a moment and if a shadow flickered across her expression it was probably just being cast by her hair as it fell from where it had been pushed back to lie across her forehead.

"Turn about is fair play."

"Care to clarify?" he asked, eyebrows arched as he gently tugged at the elastic, pulling down her underwear. One hand slipped under her hips to guide her up off the bed to facilitate the process, though his eyes stayed on her face the whole time.

Her breath caught. She bit her lower lip as her hips lifted, and then had to consciously uncurl her fingers from where they'd started gripping the sheet. She let the breath out slowly, but it was audible and uneven.

"Not now," she said quietly.

It took a little maneuvering on his part, but he managed to discard the panties with the rest of her clothing in short order, leaving her entirely naked before him. There was a part of him -- a considerably large, vocal part, in fact -- that didn't quite believe this was actually happening, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. He settled back between her legs, his weight resting on his elbows as he looped his hands around her thighs, fingers brushing against her skin. His own breaths were labored as he took her in, his eyes half-closed.

"Don't panic," he murmured, though whether or not he was addressing her or himself remained unclear. Regardless, he pressed his mouth to her in an open kiss, the flat of his tongue dragging across sensitive skin. A sound escaped the back of his throat. It had really been a long time.

The sound that slipped from Layla's throat was one she had never heard before. It was quiet, but it was distinctly new. It was also just distinct- she wasn't entirely sure that any other feeling in the world could have elicited that particular noise from her. It was easier to think about that, in that first moment at least, than about anything else.

I'm not going to let myself think 'I can't believe this is happening' because it demonstrably is. But.

Her hips tilted of their own volition, in place of squirming or fidgeting because there was a question, probably begged of inexperience, of what to do with herself. She didn't know what to do, not in that moment, but she knew that what was being done was... amazing.

It was an encouraging noise. Jamie Madrox was not a man devoid of ego, and when it came to something like this, he knew he had a certain amount skill -- it was the sort of thing, really, that a man didn't really forget, even one of his background. He would've tried to make it good regardless, but it being her first time, he took special care, his hands staying put to keep her relatively still as his mouth continued to work, though it really wasn't a chore in the least. She was intoxicating in the very best sense of the word.

Edited 2010-07-04 04:29 (UTC)

Layla didn't exactly have a close circle of friends, or rather, didn't have a circle of close friends, so she didn't have anyone to run off and talk about this with, later. It was almost a shame because this was worth revisiting. It was worth talking about. It was unnervingly intimate, and earnest, and she wasn't sure she could have taken a full breath if she wanted to.

And then, beyond the general awesome (because this, undoubtedly in large part due to Jamie's particular skill, was awesome) there was something- he did something- she gasped and her body jolted.

"Ah-"

Her reaction was almost endearing, which was a weird thought to have crossed his mind considering what she was reacting to, but undeniable all the same. Layla Miller knew stuff, but this, as far as he could tell, was well outside her area of expertise. Smiling against her, his hands slid up her sides, nails dragging along her skin absently as he savored the taste of her, noting her each and every sound and move, because this, he felt, was something he ought to remember.

Her body curved up off the bed into his touch and she made another sound, although this one she could readily classify as a whimper. She wasn't proud that it was a whimper, but she could own that it was. Her breaths were coming both faster and deeper, which she would have thought was unlikely, but there you had it. All the minutia she could hope to focus on that all added up to what was one of the better experiences of her life to date.

"Oh," she said, gasping again, toes of one foot sliding down his back and the side of his ribcage and one hand exchanging the bed sheet for his hair, which was altogether more pleasant to tangle her fingers in.

He stopped what he was doing just long enough to breathe and assess the situation before diving back in, so to speak, his scalp tingling from where she had tugged on his hair. Distantly, he was aware of his own wants, the dull ache nagging at him without fail, but it was all too easy to ignore with her leg wrapped around him, and his hips pressed hard against the mattress, affording him a small fraction of the friction he desired.

Relentless, that was another good descriptor. At a certain point she was afraid she'd have to push him away again, not because it was bad but because it was so much. She was so sensitive she almost couldn't stand it. Tactile overload. On the other hand, she really didn't want him to stop.

"Jamie-!" It was mostly a gasp. It was pleading, but she had no idea for what.

Then the tension broke, and that was borderline painfully good. She cried out, surprised, almost laughed. Her body rolled with the sensation until it had subsided, leaving her panting and dazed.

What. Wow. ...What.

Even after she'd ridden it out, he stayed for a moment longer, lips grazing her skin one more time before he finally sat up, his hands braced on the bed. Very deliberately, he dried the area around his mouth with a swipe of his thumb, then sucked on it, gaze locked on her face. Though steadier than hers, his own breaths were still close to panting. He sat there, watching her with an almost hungry look about him, though he didn't say anything. This was her moment, he would let her have it.

She took a moment, eyes closed, to run her hands over herself, her arms and neck, then over her face and into her hair as if to confirm that she was still in one piece. She twisted half onto her side, legs together, an unconsciously shy gesture. Layla was used to the self assurance that came with being right all the time, but it took a whole other level of ego, she had to figure, to just bask in the afterglow with your legs apart. She swallowed a breath a her heart rate started to slow, before her she opened her eyes again to look up at Jamie. She was a flushed, tousled mess and it felt great.

Layla smiled a little, expression running the gamut from shy to amused to deeply affectionate and still, though she was wonderfully sated, wanting, and after a moment she twisted her body back toward him and reached for him, fingertips grazing his shoulder and his cheek.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and if he looked at all satisfied with himself, he'd argue her reaction more than warranted it. There was a certain thrill in seeing the nigh unflappable Layla Miller so thoroughly mussed, though it left him wanting her all the more. Shamelessly, he placed his hands over hers, guiding them both down his chest as he leaned in towards her. His lips traced the line of her jaw. "Turnabout is fair play," he murmured, nipping gently at her earlobe. "I mean, if you don't mind."

There was nothing about his tone to suggest that he thought she did.

Layla didn't say anything back. In place of a quip, she ducked her head to briefly nip and then suck on the place where his neck met his shoulder, while she dragged her fingernails lightly down his sides. She turned toward him more, lips and tongue slowly wandering along his collar bone as her hands mapped out his abdomen, the grooves at his hips, the tops of his thighs- and there, gently, scraping again.

She absolutely didn't mind. She wasn't going to rush, though.

His eyes fluttering closed, he moaned quietly, hands slipping around her waist. While both of them were patient, it was for entirely different reasons. Jamie's was a patience born of indecision and indecision alone, and in this, he could hardly be more sure. He'd meant what he said before, about wanting just her, and while this was plenty nice of its own accord, he needed more.

"Layla," he murmured, little more than exhale.