The Door Game

It was a roar.

It was fierce.

It sounded like an animal. Like a bear. Like something immensely strong wailing at the sky.

It sounded like rage, and relief, and was so raw and brutal that he was taken aback.

She had given up, it was all too much to hold in.

His core tensed and with that, his cock seemed to strain and surge, blood filling it to try and become even bigger, even harder. He looked over her shoulder, seeing one side of her face contorted into a grimace that you could easily mistake for pure anger. Like she was going to burst into tears or punch him in the face.

He used all of his strength to hold her in place, to keep going while her body fought against him. His eyes widened. Fuck me this was hot - the kind of hot where a man would manage a few strokes and it would be over. He hadn't expected her to feel so strong. It was intoxicating.

She felt as if her stomach had lit up, radiating outward, like a ball of brilliant light inside her was surging in every direction. Intense pulses of heat and sensation moved down through her legs and up towards her head, making her dizzy. Her blood felt heavy again, like it couldn't push itself high enough to reach her brain, encumbered by the hand that held her throat.

He carried on for 8, 12, maybe 20 seconds -- he couldn't tell, and then felt her change. Where the touch was too much. She couldn't come any more - it was too sensitive now. As her head shook, she managed the word 'Aura', (which technically wasn't correct, but he understood).

He rubbed a few more times, just to see her wince and feel her cramp up.

Just for fucking badness, because he loved that she was overwhelmed.

And so his hand moved gently up and out of her knickers, up and out of her shorts, his other hand moving off her throat. Her breathing began to slow and the low, hoarse growl gave way to a deep, calm sound as natural breath returned.

He whispered in her ear, 'You can take your hands down now' and with that, her arms fell away, like they were the last bit of strength that she had, and they too had succumbed.

Straightening up, they stepped back a little from the door.

Both of his arms moved across her, one hand on her shoulder, a forearm across her chest. The other across her stomach, his hand on her side. Her hands slid up slowly from her sides, finally coming to rest on top of his, her arms matching his, her hands matching his. She embraced herself through him, squeezing them tightly against her.

He spoke softly now, his mouth right by her ear,

'Wow. That was... really... fucking... loud.'

They both started giggling.

She'd have blushed if her face, neck and chest weren't already flooded with red. 'I know... I couldn't... I've never.' Words were not going to come.

Gently, he peeled his arms away, and keeping hold of her hand, he led her past the flickering TV silently showing a comedy panel show, to the couch.

She slumped back into the soft grey cushions, dazed, her eyes closed, only vaguely aware of the sensation of him reaching up to her waistband and sliding her shorts and knickers off in a single, gentle movement.

She opened her eyes and looked down to see him kneeling between her legs, planting soft kisses on the inside of her thigh. He placed his hands under her knees, gently pushing her legs up and back. He paused and looked up, striking green eyes gazing straight into hers.

'Let's see if you can be quiet this time...'