The Bleakest of Seasons

'I...' You don't know how to answer the question.

You open your mouth. Close it. Your hand flies up and you make a confused gesture.

'Yeah. I get like that some times too.' He tells you with a completely straight voice.

You feel your cheeks growing hot as you become embarrassed. This may well be the least successful seduction of all time.

'Addie, come here.' He pats the couch beside him, you slide over, trying not to meet his eyes and show your frustration.

He slides an arm around your shoulder, pulls you to him and plants a smooch on the side of your head. It makes you feel a little better when he touches you, and a lot better when he gives you that kiss. You like it in general when he kisses you. He's good at it. You feel his affection or his passion, or lust, or whatever mood he's in clearly whenever he does it.

'Addie. I'm not going to disappear. I promise you there will be lots and lots and lots of satisfying sex in your future.' He assures you gently.

You can't help yourself.

'Now?' You squeak out in a tiny voice.

He laughs. Thank god.

'Addie, I swear to god... we've literally fucked my Johnson raw. I will service you with gusto soon, but please let me grow back a few layers of skin first.'

You hadn't considered that, you feel kind of battered downstairs yourself. It had just been so long since you'd been with someone like this...

Scratch that. You've never been with anyone like this. He can overpower you and pin you to something, and force you to submit to overpowering mind blowing sex. A few minutes later he's just as likely to make a horrible pun and make you giggle. He uses you with abandon, chains you up, ties you down, but is incredibly gentle and concerned for your feelings, and honestly tries to protect you.

The crazy man that wrote the stories that blew your mind is sitting next to you, with his arm around your shoulder, but he keeps showing you different faces and you can't figure him out.

He drives you crazy. He finds new ways to pleasure you in ways you had never even thought of. And he seems to have wormed his way into your heart.

And you had hardened your heart. Especially after... him.

You sigh. You're fucked now, and not in the literal sense. He's deep in your head, and when you close your eyes you think about him, and frequently it's not even sex. Sometimes you just really want to talk with him, and he always tries to talk to you and make you laugh, and comfort you when you feel crappy.

'One layer of skin.' You say finally, worried that the silence was getting long.

He laughs at your negotiation technique. Then he bargains you up to two layers. You agree to two layers and a big mess.

'Done!' He says and offers you his hand, like he just sold you a car.

You roll your eyes at him then shake his hand. Yes, he's funny, and crazy, and passionate, but he's also a huge nerd. It may be his most endearing quality.

Scott suggests a shower, and you decide that would actually be fantastic. He takes the coffee cups into the kitchen while you head over to the boys room and grab a couple of towels for both of you.

The comfy t-shirt gets tossed into the hamper, and you wander over to the shower and start playing with the levers. It pours out too cold at first, and then you make it too hot causing you to jump back and curse under your breath. After a few minutes of fiddling with the levers you get the perfect mix and you slip under the just hot enough water.

It's delicious. The water pressure is high, and it blasts and massages your skin. You stick your head directly under the tap and run the water through your hair. Your head clears, and for a slice of time you don't think of anything and just enjoy the feeling or the water blasting away sweat and sex and grime and sleep.

A hand slips around your hip, another slides around your breast cupping you gently.

'Hey.' He whispers in your ear.

'Hey yourself.' You respond with a smile.

You stay like that for a moment, just pressed against him. His hands are on your body but not in a vulgar way, just hugging you tight. The water splashes down onto you, making your skin slick.

He reaches over, grabs the soap and starts to wash you. His hand rubs the bar across your chest and lathers up your skin. He's thorough and gentle, but you believe after a couple of minutes that your breasts may be the cleanest in history.

You look over your shoulder at him with a knowing smirk. He grins, and proceeds to begin washing other parts of your body.

It's luxurious, you feel owned... yet like you matter. He wants you clean, smelling nice, feeling good.

Which reminds you...

'Now?' You whisper in his ear as he vigorously scrubs your tummy.

'Nope.' He says with a completely straight face.

You pout at him and stomp your foot like a petulant child. He ignores that and starts washing your back with a wide grin on his face.

Wait a minute, is he enjoying this?

You turn and glare at him, he grins at you and his soap lathered hand slides down your back and between your cheeks. Your angry glare disintegrates as you squirm under his intimate cleansing.

He works his way thoroughly down your body, vigorously scrubbing your thighs and calves and even gently washing your feet. You fight off a fit of giggles as he meticulously cleans the soles of your feet.

He finishes and inspects your clean, scrubbed pink body, and takes your head in his hands, tilting it left and right, inspecting you carefully. It makes your insides tingle, like he's inspecting his property.

Would it be so terrible if you were his property? If he owned you?

Maybe you are already. You're not sure what you would do if he suddenly dropped out of your life. It would feel awful, you think.

The thought of that suddenly happening unnerves you for some reason, even though you're both happily showering together naked. It must bleed through to your face, because he frowns and asks you what's wrong.

'Nothing's wrong... I was just thinking.'

'About what?' He says as he reaches for the shampoo.

'Is it ok if I don't answer that? Wait, are you going to wash my hair?'

'Yes and yes.' He says with a smile. 'When you want to tell me, I'll listen. You know that.'

He squirts out a generous dollop of shampoo onto your head and begins immediately working it into lather. You close your eyes and let him wash your hair, and marvel at how relaxing this is. His fingers work your scalp and you tingle at his touch. It feels so intimate to feel him against you as he works the soap into your tresses. Your breathing picks up, and you clamp your mouth shut. This feels nice, and as much as you want to say 'Now?' again you don't want to wreck this moment.

It takes a couple of minutes, but it feels like only seconds, for him to work over your entire scalp. When he tilts your head back into the water you feel the torrent wash over you, and the soap wash out of your hair and down your body. His hands massage your scalp again, making sure all the residue rinses out and swirls down the drain.

You feel incredibly relaxed, almost sated. It was just a shower, but you don't recall ever having a shower like this.

You turn around, open your eyes and smile up at him. Suddenly, you can't help yourself. You stand on your tiptoes and put your hands around his head and press your lips to his. You want to ravish him after that, but you know it's against the rules. So you just kiss him hard, forcefully, trying to demand with your lips that he let you pleasure him again. And again. And again dammit!

He chuckles as you do it.

'I take it that felt good?' He asks calmly, his eyes gentle and smile wide, as the water beads on his pale skin.

You glare at him, then kiss him even harder. You continue by dragging your lips down his neck and then move up to his ear and suck his earlobe between your teeth so that you can run your tongue over it.

You can't stand this anymore.

'For the love of Christ Scott, please tell me it's now. I'll beg if I have to.' You whisper vehemently.

Scott chuckles again, then you feel his hand drift up your back and seize the tangled wet mess that your hair is.

'Not yet girl. Almost. We're not done cleaning you yet.'

'How in the hell are we not done cleaning me?' You demand in frustration. All concern for pushing is lost, your need for him is overpowering you.

'Sit on the bench, this won't take long,' he says firmly.

You make a frustrated growling sound in your throat, but you turn and sit on the bench. Scott moves out of the shower and over to a locker. He pulls out a couple of washcloths, a can of something and a small metal object.

You watch him come over and he sets the cloths neatly beside you, then places the object next to you on top of them, and sets a can of shaving cream beside them.

Oh. My.

'Spread your legs please.' he asks calmly as he kneels in front of you.

You look at him quietly, stunned silent for a moment by this simple request, then you slowly spread your legs wide and display yourself to him fully. He nods, but refrains from words. The can is picked up, and a generous amount of soft foam is sprayed into his hand. He delicately spreads it onto your small patch of pubic hair, carefully lathering up the small patch that you always kept.

You find yourself biting your lip, hard. This is a level of sensation you don't think you're equipped to handle right now.

On cue, after liberally applying the foam to your body, he reaches for the razor and swings it open. It's an old school straight razor, and it looks incredibly sharp.

He moves in close to your sex and begins to trim the hair away with tiny little strokes of the razor. Every time the metal touches your skin, you hold your breath. You know he would never hurt you, but you've never been shaved down there by someone else, and certainly not with an intimidating straight razor.

Scott looks up at you with a little concern.

'Are you okay?'

'Yes. Fine.' You reply in a voice about two octaves higher than normal.

'You're trembling.'

'Possibly. Maybe. I'm a little freaked out.'

'Hey, we're almost finished okay. And when we finish...' He trails off with a knowing grin.

You nod, your teeth still locked around your lip. The blade caresses your skin with the utmost delicacy, and you feel more and more of yourself laid bare.

Finally, he nods and picks up one of the cloths and wets it in the shower behind him, then he gently cleans away the hair and soap residue from your mound.

You feel as naked as any person could ever be. Your heart pounds.

You spread your legs wide, display yourself to him. This one simple act pushing you completely over the edge.

'Now Scott? Please?' You plead with him in desperation.

He ignores you for a minute, and runs the razor under a stream of water. He rises, gathers up the cloth and the can, and walks over to the locker. It clangs open, then shut, and then he turns and walks back, kneelings in front of you again with what seems like an almost deliberately cruel casualness.

He places a hand on your thigh, and traces fingers along the sensitive white skin until they start to caress your labia. A moment later, you make an animal whining sound as he slides a pair of fingers into you with no resistance whatsoever. You've gone beyond horny and needful into almost a frenzied state. Yet still you don't move, can't move. You fear that if you do, you'll break the spell, and if anything, you're luxuriating in the purely lustful look that he's giving you as you spread wide for him.

'Now.' He says serenely, relaxed and with just a hint of lust.

You feel his fingers on your hair again and he pulls you off the bench and to him. The spell that was freezing you in place is broken, and suddenly your mouth is planted against his and you can't wait to have him inside you.

Your urgency surprises him, and he reels and then falls backwards, hitting his head on the floor of the shower with a whack and a grimace.

You recoil. That was not what you were trying for. You crawl on top of him, place your hands on his head, apologizing profusely. You feel him erect and hard against your leg and resist the temptation to mount him immediately.

'I'm fine Addie. It's nothing.'

'Are you sure?'

'It's fine. Just a bump on the noggin.'

You nod, then shift on top of him and impale yourself on him in one thrust. His eyes bulge when you do so, and it hurts a little bit, but you literally need him inside you, and you need him now.

For the first time ever since you met him, you seize control yourself. You rock your hips back and forth like a crazed woman, and force yourself to release as fast as you have ever come. The now naked skin on your vagina seems to amplify every sensation down there, and you can feel him sliding in and out of you on a whole new level .

You come, once, twice and a third time in rapid sequence, and each one is loud and fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. After a few minutes of frenzied riding, you collapse forward onto his chest and pant with your eyes shut.

Scott doesn't say anything for a moment, he just wraps his arms around you and holds you.

God damn this man. He makes you crazy. You do things with him and too him that you would never do with anyone else. And you can't wait to do more.

He just lays there for a moment running his fingers through your wet hair and massaging the back of your head as you pant and try to catch your breath.

He asks you if you feel better.

You nod yes, but continue to lie on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

He lets you for a time. Then he makes promises of stone cut oatmeal and fresh fruit at a local restaurant. You think about that, but it involves getting off him... and worse, not having him inside you.

Your stomach growls a moment later, and you sigh.

'Ok, let's go get some breakfast.'

'Do you mind if I order eggs? Or would that make you uncomfortable?'

'To each their own.'

'Sooo that's a yes then?'

You smile at him and reluctantly dismount, groaning as he slides out of you. You both take a minute to rinse off under the now lukewarm water, and you take a moment to ensure that you're still clean as can be.

Scott finds you more comfortable clothes to wear, and you wander out to the garage and climb into his heap. The garage door rattles up, and you zip down the road a moment later with him to a nearby diner.

He gets you the fruit plate and the stone cut oatmeal like he promised. He gets pancakes for himself; partially because he doesn't want to ruin your breakfast, and partially because he likes pancakes.

You both eat silently. There's nothing to say at the moment. You're both ravenous from your extended couplings, and sated from them as well.

The food disappears in front of you both with record speed. While you eat, the waitress appears with a bill and more coffee.

As you sit there in the booth, you stretch out your foot and wrap it around his ankle. Your meal complete, you sit there with him, drinking coffee and playing footsie for a little while.

A thought suddenly occurs to you.

'You didn't make a mess!'

He smiles.

'I didn't finish.'

You choke on your coffee a little.

'Again?' How does he do that? This is the only man you've ever met that would fake an orgasm.

'I owe you one mess. Ok?' He says over his cup with a roguish grin.

'Deal. Just so you know, I do charge interest on that.'

'Oh really?' He says, and he says it in such a way that you *know* you'll regret saying that some time.

He smiles at you again, and you play more footsie with him. He really does have big feet, which you do not find surprising based on your bedroom athletics with him.

But after a little while, you can't wait any longer and just blurt it out.

'Scott?'

'Yes Addie?'

'What's next?'

He smirks and throws a twenty on the table. Then he stands and offers his hand to help you out of the booth.

'Let's go find out shall we?'

And moments later, you're buckled up in the rust bucket, zipping down the road with the wind in your still damp hair.

Let's find out indeed, you think to yourself.