Overdue

"When were you last tested?" she asks, breaking the wordless quiet.

I pause, slowing down. "A couple of weeks ago. Everything was negative, but you know I'm careful..."

"Shush now, I'm not casting doubt on that," and if she doesn't kiss the tip of my nose in a way that curls my toes with happiness. "Have you been with anyone since then?"

I try not to get ahead of whatever it is she's asking because it'll cause my brain to collapse. "No. And not for a while before then either."

Her eyebrows peak with interest. "No?"

"No," I confirm, tightening my fingers over her breast. "No, I've been rather, um, celibate this year as a matter of fact.

"Indeed?"

I roll and pull her on top of me, unable to resist lifting my hips to find some friction for my poor, impatient cock.

"God, I love it when you do that," with a sharp intake of breath.

I grin and do it again because I'm predictable and I like praise. "Yes?"

"Yes. The first time you did that -- you know, back in Macek's House -- I think I nearly came."

I grin more and yank her body down to mine, wanting more than anything to make Rachel come. Chemicals and hormones and whatever else it is that makes sex so brilliant flood my brain, the resultant high both focused and fogged. We wrap our bodies around each other, releasing only to remove items of clothing and hum our delight at the slow reveal. I fall in love with the dip and rise of her stomach, the catches in her pattern of breathing, her fingers in my mouth and my fingers inside her body. As before, I'm taken by the extent to which she seems to abandon herself to the moment, head tipped, eyes flickering shut, an attitude of pure trust that slashes at my own, rather too guarded, heart. I want to be able to give her everything, to let her have anything, even if I know it's going to be hard and, sometimes, possibly painful.

We slow it down again before we tip ourselves too far over, her fingers tracing the lines of my chest as we catch our breath.

"So, no make-up today?"

I twist my head to look at her. "No."

"Shame," she hums.

I lever myself up a little. "You like that, do you?"

"Yes of course I do. I've even bought eyeliner for you, haven't I?"

"Yes, I know. But I didn't know if you'd like it in this... context."

She laughs a happy sound. "Whether I'd still fancy you if you wore it, you mean?"

I nod, feeling stupid as fuck and not a little vulnerable too. Which intensifies when she drifts a hand over my cheek.

"I like you for how you are, Mikey. Exactly how you are."

I resist my hard instinct to duck her scrutiny, loving as it is, and instead try to give something of myself back to the conversation.

"I can be whatever you want me to be, Rachel. Whatever you need."

"No. I want you to just be who you are."

The pure, clear grey of her eyes is too much. She slides on top of me again and I get a bit anxious about the proximity of my leaking cock and try to shift away from the danger zone until she stops me with a look and a reminder that she's on the pill so there's no danger at all.

"I'll try," I finally promise, even as the fear rises up. That I won't be enough for her. Or too much. Or, perhaps the most soul-destroying option, that I won't be able to drop my defences enough to let her find out. That my lifetime of role-playing and diversionary switching from girls to boys and back has left me with a barren soul.

"I know you will," she smiles, a dangerous curl to her lips, and before my brain can catch up with all of those thoughts and emotions, she's licking my cock, holding her hair away in one hand.

"Oh fuck, Rachel. Oh, fuck me," I pant shamelessly, doing my best not to shove myself into her mouth.

I feel the pressure of her lips around my crown as she smiles to herself.

"Oh God, Rach. You should give a man some warning," I carry on, babbling nonsense and suddenly not caring. Finally remembering my manners and pushing at her hand so I can hold her hair clear at the same time as stroke an appreciative finger or two down the nape of her neck.

Her tongue explores me, probing and stroking me in a way that's electrifying, creating a delicious tension right where it counts. My mind bursts with the reality of what we're doing. Shucking off all the years of dancing around each other and the truth; the needs and the pain of Fliss's illness and death; Rach's desire to keep her public persona separate from her private self; my need to camouflage my anxieties with eighty-hour work weeks, quick fucks and long poker tournaments.

We can leave all that behind us for these short but shared moments with each other. And maybe we'll build something of our own -- something solid and trusting and loving -- in the process.

And then I'm right at the edge. I pull, too sharply, on her hair. "Stop. Please," I add, more softly.

She pulls away with a popping noise that drills a bolt of lust direct to my brain, then crawls back up my body while I will myself to recover some self-control, sucking oxygen deep into my lungs.

"Come here," I beckon, wanting armfuls of her, and when she obliges me, I do my best to completely envelop her.

She tugs until I understand she wants me on top. We push discarded clothes out of our way, tangle and untangle our limbs from each other until we get there, me propping myself up on my forearms to keep most of my weight off her.

"No. Lie on me," she says, her eyes alight.

I stare at her, at the fine details only close quarters can give access to. The tiny hairs of her eyebrows, the almost invisible freckles over her nose, the one dark speck of brown in her left eye, made almost red by the surrounding grey of her iris.

She uses her hands to urge my hips downwards and my cock jumps for joy. I hesitate. She groans.

"Mikey, come on. I'm more than ready for you."

Her tone is a return to Rachel my friend, the tone she uses to distract me from getting too obsessive over some small detail or other, to refocus my energies on the big picture. But the words -- no, they are totally, brilliantly new. The contrast makes me smile. I push up, but she presses her hands more firmly against my arse.

"Where are you off to?"

"Uh, my wallet's on the floor somewhere," I begin to explain.

"No. No condoms. I'm clean and so are you, and if this isn't going to be a casual thing for either of us, then I don't want us to use them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. But if you'd rather use them, just say."

A wave of heat batters me as I contemplate the heaven that must be sex without condoms, and with Rachel too. A divine overload of pleasure. Which increases dramatically when she runs a hand deep in-between my arse cheeks, serving up gentle, tantalising, and delicious brushes over the most sensitive parts of me. My body trembles and I drop my head to her shoulder, overcome.

"Now do you understand what I've been offering you all this time, Mikey?" she breathes, which only serves to short out my brain even further.

"Fucking hell, Rach," I babble, opening myself out, unable not to buck at her firmer touches. "Fuck." Even in my scrambled state I recognise how close to perfection this is.

She kisses my jaw, emitting a low, happy-sounding hum. I tilt my hips to follow her lead like an obedient dog. Sweat beads at the base of my spine and my toes curl in on themselves.

"Fuck," I mutter again, since any eloquence I may be able to muster in the court room has been comprehensively obliterated by Rachel's liberal, loving hands. "Fuck me," I utter again; an exclamation rather than a command, but --

"Maybe one day, but not before you fuck me first."

Appealing to my competitiveness is smart. She knows me so well. I sink my hips down, my cock pulsing like a mad thing, then practically exploding when she circles a hand around it.

"Careful, or it'll all be over," I warn her.

She releases me in favour of grabbing my face and pulling it down for a kiss. It grounds me, allows me to relax a little bit.

"I can't believe we're here," I whisper.

She answers me in kisses. Short, sweet brushes of my lips until I push into her mouth, delving deeply in a foreshadowing of what else we're about to do. As we kiss, my cock finds its own way and gradually, gradually settles at her entrance. I twist away from her mouth to slow down, because I do not want to rush this, our only first time. I want to feel every sensation and every millimetre. I'm trembling everywhere with the effort of shoring up my compulsion for release. With one tilt of her hips we're finally there, joining our bodies together.

She's tight and hot and her uneven intakes of breath catch in her throat as I push home, slowly, watching her every reaction. I pause, needing to slow down before I can't, my balls already heavy and tight. Her eyes spring open.

"Don't stop now, Mike."

I inhale. "Easy for you to say," but I obey her, drowning myself in her, muscles contracting to complete the journey until I can go no further.

"God, you are a perfect fit," she breathes and I think I whimper in reply because I'm almost finished.

And then she shifts under me, just a slight move, but unbelievably delicious, forcing some kind of weird grunt out of me.

"See?" and she exhales, another shift and another, deeper, noisier intake of breath. "Oh God, I think --" She pushes at my shoulder and I pull up so she can fit her hand between us. "Let me see."

I lift my chest, bracing on my arms placed either side of her ribs and we both look at where my cock disappears inside her, and we both groan when she touches us there. I pull out halfway before returning to her. Her groan is louder, an element of surprise in it.

"Fuck, oh God," and she arches her back, her fingers suddenly busy.

I watch her, aiming to match her rhythm with my pace, and fill with awe at the sight of her, a deep pink flush fanning out over her breastbone and throat as she follows her body's needs, pulling and dragging at my cock like a fierce tide, almost cruelly relentless in its quest.

"You're so beautiful," I tell her, my voice filled with my own kind of wonder.

She pulls at me one more time, her strength utterly compelling, before she loses herself to me in utter abandonment. It's breath-taking to see, so much so I'm glad I'm not there yet, still conscious enough to watch her and take it in. I stop moving when her sounds take on an edge of discomfort and feel her fight to regain her breath.

"Bloody hell," she finally exclaims, slowly wrapping her shaky arms and legs more closely around me.

I can feel the rapid beat of her heart as I lower down to her chest, and the aftershocks gripping at my cock, which practically kicks back in excitement. She tilts her hips in encouragement, but I don't move yet.

"Fuck, Rachel, you came on my fucking cock." Ok so it's not the most romantic thing I could have come up with, but it's certainly heartfelt.

She laughs, clutching at me deliciously. "I did. That's pretty stellar for a first time, isn't it?" she agrees.

"I'll say."

"Not horrible."

"Not in the slightest, Rach."

She strokes her hands down my sides. "What now?"

I give her an exploratory thrust. "What are you ready to take?"

"Let's see," she offers, one hand already squeezing my arse before delving between my cheeks.

My groan is appreciative and loud. "Yes," I can't stop myself from uttering.

But she retreats. Then, with that dark glint to her eyes I'm getting to love, pushes her fingers into my mouth. I suck at them, savouring the invasion and the hint of promise, before she pulls them free and slides them back to where I've shamelessly, optimistically opened my legs. Her first touch is like a cattle prod and I slam into her, her bed thumping the wall in response. As she gets used to my pace and coordinates her touch to each thrust I lose all sense of time, lost in the dual sensations of fucking and the anticipation of being fucked.

"Are you mine, Michael? Am I making you mine?"

I can only make helpless horny noises in reply, because I've been hers for years, even if I'm only recently understanding the true extent of that fact. Our bodies slide together in the heat, my cock tying us to each other with every fuck, deep or shallow. It's as she breaches me with one long finger that the game slams to its conclusion and I fall and fall, deep and out of control, a pure white-out, only dimly aware of her saying my name and of the percussive banging of the bed under us. I pour everything into her, long and loud, far louder than with anyone else. The feel of my own spunk making her messy is an unbelievable turn-on in its own right. I linger there, revelling in it.

"I've made you messy," I whisper, my voice hoarse and dry.

"Mmm," is all she replies, before slipping her finger free of my tight hold.

I shudder hard, mourning her absence already, then, remembering my manners, I ease my cock out of her as gently as I can.

"I'm going to be sore later."

"Sorry --"

"No. Don't be. It's what I want."

"Rach --"

She runs her arms around my back and cradles me and I think to myself that maybe I've found someone who'll really take me as I am. Which almost makes me smile, since that person's been here ever since I escaped my mother and my boarding school, yet it's taken me this long to fully realise it.

I stroke Rachel's arms as we lie side by side in a vain attempt to cool down, the still strong sunlight blasting through her bedroom window. I might even have fallen asleep for a few minutes, because I have to open my eyes when she starts talking.

"So how much did you win at the game last night?" she strokes a hand across my chest which feels nice. I slide my eyes over to her.

"A disgusting amount. I'm going to have to give some away to charity to assuage my guilt at such ill-gotten fortune."

"Hm. Enough to go out for dinner tonight, then?"

I laugh. "Yes. Definitely enough for that."

"Oh good," she says, sitting up. "Then that's what we'll do after we take a shower, since I think we have an awful lot of catching up to do, don't you?"

She gifts me a look I wish I could trap and keep forever, for the times when it won't come as easy for us.

"I do."

"Come on then," she urges, her face clear of fear or regret. "The sooner we get into the shower, the sooner we can get on with it. No time to lose."

"No time to lose," I echo with a wry smile.

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