He released her and held out his hand. She placed hers into his and looked up at him as she drew him towards the door. So big, she thought, and so strong, her werewolf, and so gentle.
She led him down the hallway to her bedroom, and opened the door, closing it behind him. He reached for her as she reached out to cup his face in her palms, feeling the stubble beneath her palms. “Oh, the things you do to me,” she whispered.
“Lia,” his expression was tender as he leaned down to brush his lips over hers.
She stroked her hands down his chest, feeling the muscles below his t-shirt until she found the hem and could draw it up exposing the tanned skin. He pulled it off as watched her through eyes slumberous with desire as she traced the center line down between the ridges and furrows of his stomach muscles.
She released the top button of his jeans. His hard on pushed against the zip, slowly working it down with every breath, every pulse. She pressed her lips against his heart as she helped the zip descend, taking him into her hands.
He drew in an unsteady breath.
She stroked him, admiring the soft skin over the hardness within, feeling the slip of wetness at his tip, spreading it with the pad of her thumb. He groaned, his head rocking back on his neck and the column of his throat, his adams apple standing out, his dark curls falling back from his face.
“Oh, f-k,” he moaned.
She dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth and the sound he made was more wolf and less man, she thought smugly as she ran her tongue over the sensitive tip of him, feeling his fingers tangle in her hair as he sought purchase on something, anything, his hips beginning to rock instinctively, seeking his released.
She cupped his balls gently, feeling them tighten, drawing up against his body and his groan was guttural.
“Lia,” he gasped it out, but she could already feel the quickening within him and was prepared for when he came, her name ground out between his teeth and the expression on his face raw, caught on the cusp of the pleasured pain of orgasm. “Oh my god.” He breathed it out, and then grinned, the Other flashing golden in his eyes. “My turn.”
He picked her up from the ground as if she weighed nothing, stripping her of her clothing, and laid her over the bed, covering her with his body as he kissed her, sharing the mineral-non-taste of his come that lingered on her tongue before trailing his way down her body, gradually going down to his knees and pulling her towards him, so that her legs hooked over his shoulders and her arse only just rested on the mattress.
His grin as he looked up the line of her stomach was, she thought, possibly one of the most erotic and sexy things she had ever seen. “Oh, god.” She closed her eyes as her fingers gripped on the covers. He stole the breath from her lungs and reduced her exclamations to wordless sobs as his tongue stroked against her, seeming to know exactly how to cause her to arch in pleasure.
She came, hearing the echoes of her voice around the room, and laughed in embarrassment as her lifted over her, kissing her again before rolling to the side and pulling her against him.
“What is so funny?” He asked.
“I was a bit… noisy,” she pressed her face into his chest breathing in the scent of his skin. “The walls in this house aren’t very soundproofed.”
He chuckled.
She really needed to arrange a GP visit, she thought as she lay in the replete warmth of their embrace. She wanted to feel him inside of her and knew that the only reason their sex hadn’t become penetrative, was because he respected her reservations. Sooner or later, she thought, in her craving for his body on hers, she was going to get reckless, and if she didn’t get contraceptives worked out before then…
Did contraceptives even work for Others? The thought struck her hard as she stroked her through the hair that curled on Raiden’s chest. Did Others and witches get human contraceptives, or was there an Other sort of family planning practise that she didn’t know of? Oh god, she thought. That was not a conversation she could have with Cael, and she doubted very much that her very sexually reticent grandmother would be any more open about such things in death.
Raiden sighed heavily. “We should go make dinner.”
“Yes,” she pressed her lips against his chest. “We should, your stomach had been grumbling for the last half an hour in complaint.”
He laughed. “Come on then, the sooner we eat, the sooner we can return to bed.”
“Should we shower?” She wondered as she sat up. She was pretty sure that Paris and Brock would be joining them, and the idea that Brock, another werewolf, would be able to smell the sweat and come on them was embarrassing.
“Nah,” he found his jeans and pulled them on. “No point,” his grin was wicked. “I plan on getting you dirtier.”
“Raiden,” she flushed and felt her body respond to the suggestion. She pulled on her underwear and her sweatpants and t-shirt.
“Yes, Lia?” He replied innocently as he pulled on his t-shirt.
They found Brock already at work in the kitchen and Raiden washed his hands in the sink before joining him. Lia took an armload of plates and utensils into the dining room where Paris was spreading a tablecloth over the table.
“So,” Paris grinned. “We ran into tall, blonde and incredibly sexy in the hallway.”
“Cael,” Lia grimaced.
“Cael,” Paris repeated dreamily, oblivious to the chaos of Lia’s thoughts. “That is what I would have named him, too. Tell me he is our new roomie, please.”
“He is our new roomie,” Lia confirmed grimly. “Or he will be, when he actually pays for the room.” If he kept his hands to himself and didn’t try to use his magic to seduce her again, that was.
“Brock is stewing. He does not like the fact our roomie is a guy,” Paris commented. “Especially one that looks like that. Is Raiden all funny about it?”
“I guess,” Lia murmured.
“So alpha,” Paris giggled, and Lia’s heart froze, until she realised that Paris referred to the personality type, and not the werewolf type.
Dinner was a cheerful meal, with Brock and Raiden teasing each other about their mechanical skills before deciding that they would settle the debate by repairing the old car in the garage.
“I can’t believe you have gotten by without a car,” Brock was amazed. “Hasn’t it driven you insane relying on public transport?”
“It isn’t the busses that are the problem with public transport,” Paris told him. “It is the other people on the busses. Though, sometimes they are so funny, there were these guys the other night, and they were being real d-cks, and then one of them starts bleating like a sheep, and next thing you know they are all doing and looking shocked as if they couldn’t work out why they were bleating… Oh, so funny,” she laughed at the memory and then saw their faces. “I guess you had to be there.”
“The car is a classic,” Brock added. “If you got it running, a car enthusiast would pay good money for it.”
“Really?” Lia looked up from her plate hopefully. “That would be great. We are used to not having a car, but the rates on this house are due again soon, and they always hurt.”
She saw the werewolves exchange a glance.
“We will fix the car up,” Raiden decided. “And see what we can get for you.”
After dinner they returned to the bedroom and brushed their teeth together.
“It is early to go to sleep,” she said to him as she rinsed off the toothbrush, teasing to see what he would do. “Even for a school night.”
His grin was brilliant. “That is good, because I wasn’t planning on sleeping for quite a while.” He grabbed her suddenly, throwing her over his shoulder and causing her to shriek with laughter as he laid her out onto the bed. He made short work of her clothing and paused to remove his own, the flow of muscles and the expanse of flawless skin as he did so causing her breath to catch in her throat.
He looked down at her, his eyes molten with desire. “You are so beautiful,” he said softly, and stroked the palm of his hand up her leg, a slow slide of heat from ankle to knee, to hip before he lay along her side, continuing the stroke up her stomach, over her ribs to cup her breast. He leaned over and kissed her, his lips lingering in gentle tenderness. “Let me know if I do anything you don’t like,” he murmured as he trailed his hand back down her body, sliding his fingers between her legs as he watched her eyes.
He knew how to touch a woman, she thought as he stroked her body to melting point, and then she gasped as he used his fingers to penetrate her. “Lia,” he breathed it out, his voice hoarse. She could feel his hard on against her thigh, the throb of it against her and the slickness the gathered on his tip rubbing against her skin. “Alright?”
“Yes, oh,” she fought to keep her eyes open, the sensation causing her eyelids to flutter. The heel of his hand pressed against her just where she needed it, as he rocked his fingers into her. Another step closer, she thought, to actual sex.
Her hand stroked up his arm, her fingers closing on his shoulder, and she rocked her hips into his hand. “Oh,” she moaned it out.
“Yes,” his lips were against her forehead, and he watched his hand between her legs, his fingers slick from her. “F-k Lia,” his breath was unsteady, and he ground himself against her thigh and hip. “So beautiful. I am going to come just watching…”
She arched up, her gasp torn from her as she came, her fingers clutching him against her. She heard him groan and felt the hot spill of his come across her skin and he released her to grasp at himself, stroking out his last throes, until he sagged against her. “F-k,” he chuckled ruefully. “I will clean you up in a moment, Lia,” he kissed the crown of her head. “I need a moment to recover. The things I do to you, hmm? Don’t you mean the things you do to me?”