"And... cut! That's a wrap for today. Well done, all! Caitriona and Sam, thank you for doing one more take; I know your knees have got to be skinned to hell from that carpet by now. But we've got what we need after that last one. It's been a long day. Go home and enjoy your weekend. We'll see you back here Monday morning! Again, great job, guys!" The crew joined his sentiments with applause.
I could feel Sam's eyes on me as my arms slid into the terrycloth robe that was held out for me. Oh God, I couldn't look at him. I could see him in my peripheral vision, also in a robe now, slipping his bare feet into flip flops for the trudge back to the trailer.
[Our trailer. Our shared trailer. Oh God, there would be no avoiding him.]
Still, I did try. I set off first, still not meeting his gaze, even when he called my name: "Cait."
I kept walking.
"Wait! Cait, wait! Let me walk with you."
[No hablo ingles? Oh. If only.]
I stopped and let him catch up.
"Sam, we're going to the same place. We don't have to walk there together."
His hand on my forearm. "Hey." This time I looked him full-on in the face, like I always did when we touched. "What's going on with you?"
Damn his face and the genuine concern I found there. As though he didn't already know the answer. I was in no mood to spell it out for him. "Sam, I'm tired. I want to go change clothes and get home, ok? I'm fine."
He sighed then. "You're not fine. You're embarrassed."
[Oh God, here it comes. He wants to talk about it.]
I resumed walking, with him just a step behind. "Cait. You don't have to be embarrassed. It's not a big deal. I mean it."
That was enough. I stopped, turned to him, and put up a hand to stop him. It worked. "Sam, I just did the two most unprofessional things in my career: I said your name instead of Jamie's. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, well, I had an orgasm during our first love scene, which I know you felt. So yes, it is a big deal."
The last 25 paces were in silence until I reached the trailer steps. He followed me in and shut the door before locking it behind us. I sunk into an armchair and allowed my head to fall into my hands.
"Cait, we need to talk. I'm not going to let things get weird between us. Talk to me."
"Well, lucky for you, it won't be weird for long. They're definitely going to sack me after this. I just know it."
"Look at me."
I couldn't. He moved in front of the armchair and knelt down to meet me at eye-level. "Oh shit!" He winced. "Are your knees as shredded as mine are?" I half-smiled and moved my robe to expose them: pink and red, covered in angry carpet burns. "I'd say so."
"Yeah, this isn't going to work. I gotta move." He tried for one smooth move up and onto the sofa, but succeeded in mostly plopping down. "Gah, never again on a rug. I want that added to my contract." I felt a smile rise, which pleased him. Turning the armchair toward the couch, he took my hands in his.
"Now. Look at me. Please?" This time I did as he asked. "Oh, Cait. No one is going to sack you. They'll edit out the "Sam" in post. And as far as how you reacted -- involuntarily, so give yourself a break -- no one knows but us. They'll just think you sold the hell out of our fake fucking, and that you’re an incredible actress. My cock sock, which is on its way to be laundered, won't be telling tales any time soon, and neither will I. OK?"
He was making a lot of sense. I took a deep, cleansing breath. "OK, Sam, I believe you. So then why do I still feel so fucked up?" He shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm counting both little blunders as huge compliments." He wagged his eyebrows.
"Arse," I said, removing my hands from his and rubbing my tired eyes hard enough to see light.
"What can I do?" His concern was authentic. “Let me help.”
[Well, for starters, you could get me off.]
A sharp intake of breath on his part left no room for ambiguity: I’d said it out loud. Fuck.
Oh God, in for a penny, in for a pound. Third blooper today. I decided to own it: "You heard me."
His eyes were wide. "Ohh my God, you're serious."
"I am. And for a thousand reasons, none of which I feel like discussing just now."
Another audible breath. "Say it again." The lust in his eyes made me feel brazen, and the shrinking space between us left me vulnerable. It was a heady combination, and I liked it. I met his eyes.
"Get ... me ... off."
An electrically-charged pause.
I rose from the armchair and stood between his knees. He scooted forward to the edge of the couch, then froze, eyes straight ahead to the cinched belt of my robe. Underneath it I was still naked and he knew it. So close, and yet he hesitated.
He swallowed, still fixated on the knot of my belt, and his voice came out in a choked whisper: "Yeah."
"Put your hands on me."
He licked his lips. "I – I want to – oh my God, so badly," he began. Looking up at me, he finished. "But I can't believe this is happening, and I'm afraid something in my brain is waiting to hear the word 'Action'."
His face was barely-restrained frustration and tenderness in equal measures, and he looked about twenty years old. I leaned down to cup his face into my hands and kissed him deep. Inertia broken, he relaxed.
I stood back up to my full height and undid my belt myself, letting the two halves of the robe flutter open. I took his hands from where they lay gentlemanly and stock-still on his lap, and brought them to my naked waist.
That was all the encouragement he needed; his mouth went immediately to my stomach, pressing frenzied kisses and licking my skin without any pattern in mind. He was settling into the feel of being way off-script now, bolstered by the breathy noises I couldn't stop making, and slid his hands up to my breasts. Thumb and forefinger met around each nipple as his lips paused at my navel. He tightened them into a pressured pinch, and a high-pitched whine came out of me. "Mmm," he hummed into my skin as his stubble rasped against me, causing my abdomen to curve inward. I felt his mouth turn into a smile of self-satisfaction. "Yeah?" He tightened his micro-vises again, then changed to a steady pulsing.
"Mmm-hmmm," was all I could manage, as both hands feasted on heaps of soft ginger curls at my waist. "Oh God," I sighed, my head tipping backward as his lips ghosted my skin. I wasn't sure my legs could hold me up much longer.
He must have sensed it too. His hands fanned out, expanded around my rib cage down to my lower back, and cupped my arse.
"Cait." He patted the backs of my thighs.
[On him. Oh God, he wants me to sit. On him.]
He brought his knees together and made a lap for me with the muscular thighs I'd felt against me earlier. On the floor. At Leoch.
[Oh God. He’s so beautiful.]
I dropped my arms and allowed the robe to slip off fully. I was well and truly exposed to him now, with no pretense or illusion of coverage. He extended a hand and I took it, straddling his legs before lowering my bare arse onto his thighs. He let out a long, slow breath and supported me with his forearms across my lower back. "Wrap your legs around me", he whispered. "You won't hurt your knees that way."
So I did, rewarding his thoughtfulness with a series of nips and kisses up the side of his neck, pausing at his earlobe: "Thank you for thinking of me." He dipped me back, so my face was in front of his: "I always think of you."
Before I could process what he meant, his mouth overtook mine with such force it shocked me out of my thoughts. Hunger. I heard a growl in his throat as he kissed me deeper, harder. Desperation. For the first time in my life, I opened my eyes mid-kiss and found that his were open too. Fascination.
Dipping me back again, with my feet anchored at the back of his robe, he kissed down, down my neck, between my breasts, and looked to me for permission. I tacitly gave it by threading one hand through the curls at the nape of his neck and closing my eyes. He brought his open mouth around one breast, feeling the weight of it against his tongue, and moaned. Or growled. Something gorgeous. When he turned his attentions, and tongue, and teeth, to my pebbled nipple, every muscle group in my core contracted at once, and I clutched him harder. “Yes, oh Sam, God, yes".
Focused as he was, my reaction was familiar to him, and between breasts he asked: “This was what got you going earlier, isn’t it?” And he kept going, needing no answer. He knew it was, and at that moment he realized it was him who had elicited my orgasm: not being filmed, not being watched, not the adrenaline of our first intimate scene, but my body’s response to him and only him.
I knew him to be a gentleman; he’d shown me in many ways in the short time I’d known him. But giving me pleasure was emboldening him, and he indulged himself – and me, in turn – with dirty talk. “Tell me how it happened. How you felt. I want to hear you say it.”
So I told him in breathy bits and pieces, what he’d done to me on camera. “Um, it started when you, ohhhh, came at me with an open mouth. And I um, tasted your tongue… God… I was so hot for you alrea – ohhh. Already. But when you touched my breast and ohhhmyGod Sam, sucked it, mmm, that was when I felt my ooooh, my clit swell.”
“Yeah?” He snaked a hand down my stomach and thumbed it. He whispered in my ear. “Was it big like it is now?”
[Fuuuuck. He was touching me. As Sam.]
“Yesss.” I may have squeaked a bit.
He was panting now, same as me. “And were you wet like this, kitty Cait?”
“Ungh. Fuuuck. Yes, I was.”
He slipped his fingers between my swollen lips. “Jesus,” he breathed. “And then?”
His thumb and fingers began to work in tandem, and it was harder to think.
“It was when I was… oh shit yes… on… top of you that my clit was rubbing… fuck… your fucking pouch… and I… ooooh.. “
“Keep going, babe. You’re doing so good.”
[Oh hell fuck shit damn]
“And I had to keep going. Ungh, and the… friction was… getting me off.”
“And.” Circles on my clit now.
“And I wan – wan-ted – you in… side me.”
Two fingers went in, and he parted his knees a bit wider for better access. In doing so, he parted me. And with his knees relaxed and apart, I saw his bare cock for the first time. He watched his fingers disappear into my body over and over, and I watched his rock-hard cock twitching. I wanted to feel it. I freed a hand and reached for it.
“No.” He shook his head, trapped my hand under the weight of his thigh, and kept working me. “Not me. This is what you needed, what you asked me for. Come for me, come. Let go. Do it.”
Circling, rubbing, fucking. I tensed everywhere all at once, stopped breathing for three full seconds, and flooded his hand.
“Mmm, yes, Cait. There. That’s what you needed.”
I managed to stay upright by throwing both arms around his neck as he withdrew his fingers and kissed my collarbone. One hand behind me, the other going up to his lips. He traced his lips with it, smiled wickedly, and kissed me.
We said nothing for at least a minute as my heart rate returned to normal and I clung to him.
“All better now?”
“Yes… and also no, because I want more.”
His eyes widened along with his smile. “So do I. You have no idea how badly. But right now, Wendy’s waiting for me in makeup, to take off my scars. And besides, I have no intention of fully having you in this trailer.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because this isn’t just a fuck for me. You -- are not just a fuck for me.”
I placed a hand along his jawline and listened intently.
“Cait, I don’t sleep with co-stars. I just don’t. But this, with you, runs deep.” He took a deep breath. “I think this could be something, and you deserve better than a quickie. Don’t you think this could be more?”
[God help me, I do. I really do.]
“I didn’t expect you to say that, but absolutely, yes. So what now?”
“Well, now I take my blue balls and go do my time in makeup, but please wait for me.”
I kissed him. “And then what?”
He smiled. “Then I’m coming home with you."
A wee interlude.
Huge thanks to @Albatross1013 for her superior beta skills, encouragement, ideas on what worked and what didn't, and friendship!
Thanks also go to @an-gaol-seo-ol for nominating me to write this in the first place, and to @theoutlander for entrusting me with her prompt.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
I sat in the armchair where it had all started just a short while ago and propped my feet up on the sofa. The very spot where... ohmyGod... I can't believe that just happened.
Everything is different.
I ran my hands over my face, all the way up into my hair, and giggled.
This is good.
It had just occurred to me that I should probably change out of this robe and into actual clothes when my phone beeped.
Everything ok over there?
Having my back skin
ripped off, half an inch
at a time
I needed that
Trying to think of
Bit rigid, are we?
🤢 Got it thanks
Was it ok to invite
Having second thoughts?
About you and me, no
About being pushy, yes
I didn't take it that way at all.
It didn't even feel out of place.
Is that weird?
Which is amazing bc
I've never said that
TBH it kind of felt natural. 🙂
Good bc I've already
texted Davie and told
him I've got plans after
I'm done here so he's gone
Oh wow, this just got real.
Finnie driving both
of us to my flat.
Do you think he'll mind
making a short stop
Forget to post a letter,
I have no ☔
And before you have
a go at my expense
I am not saying it's
a sure thing but after
the sofa I think it's wise
It is wise.
I'm not gonna take
the piss out of you
for that. But, I am
laughing tbh. Guess
you don't know, then?
Never opened the third
drawer by the sink in here,
Whole box of ☔ left
with a note from some
of the crew.
SHIT do I even
wanna know what it says
"Be safe, you two.
We'd like to keep our jobs."
I just snorted
Why didn't you tell me before
How? "Hey, I know this is
super cliché, but there's a
box of condoms in here
if we ever..."
You really do think
this is cliché don't you
Isn't it? Don't tell me you
haven't been hit on by a
castmate before, Heughan.
Weeell ok I have
But he was politely rebuffed
Stage actor who played
my love interest in
A Plague Over England
After that I figured
I might be a decent actor 😜
Wendy just said I'll be done in 20
That gives me time for
a shower, then.
Hang in there 😘
Dressed in the clothes I wore to set (jeans, gray t-shirt, trainers), I was towel-drying my hair when I heard a rap!rap!rap! on the trailer door.
The tall silhouette outside was impossible to mistake.
I rolled my eyes and let him in. "What the fuck are you knocking for?" I asked.
"Come on, Balfie. Can't you at least let me TRY to be a gentleman?" He moved steadily into my space and I let him. Arms around my shoulders, he nuzzled my damp hair. "You smell amazing." He kissed my squeaky-clean skin and I felt the rasp of his stubble, the heat of his mouth.
Audible breath from me. "Ready?" I asked. "Finnie says he's out front."
He gave me a wry smile. "He is. We... waved."
He beat me to the car door and opened it.
Scooting in, I looked up to see Finnie's wide eyes in the rear view mirror. "Not a word", I warned him. "To anyone."
Sam got in behind Finnie. "Hou's it gaun?"
[He could turn the accent on like a switch.]
"Aye, guid. Fine, tanks. Where tae, 'en?"
"My flat, Finnie. Thanks."
Then we were off, with 19 to 23 minutes to my door, depending on traffic. I looked out my window to a world that was somehow exactly the same and yet starkly different than it was this morning. Because of my bizarre trifecta of embarrassments. Because of Sam.
I turned to look at him and stopped short. His hand was extended toward me, resting on the seat between us. The tenderness of his gesture made my heart ache, and I placed my hand in his.
He never turned his head toward me, never caught Finnie's attention. We let our fingers lazily intertwine, and he used his thumb to caress me lightly on the back of my hand. I felt a smile forming and turned to watch the lights whizzing past us along the M80.
This time I was allowed to see myself out of the car; he grabbed his things, said a polite "'Night" to Finnie, and let me lead the way. I could sense the nearness of him at my back when I fished out my keys, and the night was so still I thought I heard us both breathing. The sense of anticipation as to what would come next was electric.
Then I realized what was next. "OH SHIT."
"What? What is it?"
I turned to him, key already in the lock. "Eddie."
His jaw slackened and his eyes doubled in size.
Sam, wisely, stayed behind me and shut the door after us. "Eddie... Mama's home... come see Mama..." She came from out of nowhere to the sound of my voice, saw that I was not alone, and stopped short.
I put a hand on Sam's arm. "No sudden movements", I cautioned. "She's bitten before." I crouched down and she walked to me and let me pet her. "Hi, baby. Look here: this is Sam." I stood back up and rubbed his bicep with one hand and looped the other around his lower back as if in a hug. "Sam's nice. See?" She walked a figure eight around my legs, and then did the same through his. Satisfied that the tall man was no threat, she left us.
[That was it? What the hell?]
"It was very nice to meet you, Eddie", Sam called after her. "Much ado about nothing, if you ask me."
"Heh. You got lucky", I said, and realized my double entendre a second too late.
His lips were a tight line as he stifled the urge to laugh. "Maybe", he said, wiggling those damnable brows.
"You are such a child. All right, here's the tour."
He looked genuinely interested as I took him from this room to that and pointed out a piece of artwork or two that meant something to me. At my bedroom door, he leaned his head in and looked around. Looked at me and nodded approvingly. "It's nice."
The tour was short and ended in my kitchen. He leaned against my counter and smiled.
[God, he looks so... right... in here.]
He feigned collapse. "Oh thank God, yes. But I didn't want to say anything! Are you?"
"Hell, yes! At tea break, I was too nervous to eat. I'm famished!" He moved toward me, eyes narrowed, sporting a wicked grin. "Hmm. You were nervous?" He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, then let them slide to a natural stopping point at my lower back.
"Yes. And you know damn well why."
Tut tut tut, his tongue clicked as he angled toward my face. I turned up to meet him. He kissed me, whisper-soft and so gently I wondered if I'd imagined it. Lazily, I opened my eyes to find him looking at me. He cupped my face in his large hands and came back for more.
This time, he kissed me with intent. He took control, parted my lips with the tip of his tongue, and kissed me more thoroughly than he ever had as Jamie Fraser. I balled his shirt up in my fists and gave as good as I got. We were soon spinning out, needing more air than we could get, and had to break. We clung to each other, panting to the same beat.
He spoke first. "I have wanted to do that, in my own clothes, for so fucking long, Cait. Fuck. That was so worth the wait." He held me to him, nuzzled my hair and neck and earlobe, and I knew it to be true: there was hard evidence pressing against me.
I let out an even, measured breath. "Sam." I put a hand on his chest and felt his heart race. "I gotta eat." I leaned up and gave his lips a peck.
"Shit, yeah. I forgot about that." We both smiled.
"Well, I didn't." I patted his chest.
[Solid as marble. But warm.]
"Do you want to get takeaway?"
I looked at the clock. "Nah, it's Friday, and it's late. We'd be waiting forever. I'll just put something together."
"You can cook? Ooh!"
"Yes, Heughan, I can cook." I rolled my eyes. He kissed my forehead and cocked one shoulder up uncomfortably.
"Would it be terribly rude if I asked to use your shower? Wendy's prosthetic leaves my back sticky." He made an "ick" face.
"I don't mind. Do you have clothes? Here?"
"Psst: you know the bag I brought with me? They're in there." He winked. "I always bring a change of clothes to set, Balfie."
"Well, I don't know that, do I? I've never rifled through your bag before."
"Maybe you should. Haha." He shrugged, then winced when his shirt got stuck to his skin again.
"Just go shower, will you? It's through my bedroom. There's a loofah in there if you need it for your back."
He left me with a quick kiss.
It wasn't long before I heard the water running as I looked in the fridge.
[He's naked. In my flat. No. No... focus.]
Half a loaf of artisan bread, 4 avocados, a lime, some cherry tomatoes, and eggs. Avocado toast for two.
Fifteen minutes later, I had the guac ready, tomatoes roasting in olive oil and balsamic, and decided to pour two whiskies: Bushmills, my favorite from home. I sipped mine while I waited for him to come out. Frying the eggs too early would make them rubbery.
[Yes, Heughan. I can cook.]
He materialized in a fitted navy blue tee, faded jeans, and bare feet. Basically, the protagonist in every teenaged dream I'd ever had.
[God, it's good to be a grownup.]
"You made GUAC?!? Oh my God, I love you!" He heard it immediately. "I'm sorry -- I just --"
[Poor guy. Throw him a lifeline.]
"You may want to taste it first. See if it's worthy of a declaration like that, you know?"
He ran a finger around the edge of the bowl and licked it off. "Yep. I stand by my earlier statement," he said with a grin. "What are we having? Ooh. Whisky too?"
I handed him his glass and drizzled olive oil in a skillet. "Would you start the toaster for me? Avocado toast, if you hadn't guessed." He obliged, and a second later had wrapped his arms around me while I cracked the eggs into the pan, chin resting on my left shoulder. "I like a fried egg on mine. You game?"
He said nothing; just nodded where he'd perched his head and sighed. "I'm happy."
I smiled. "So am I. " I turned my head left, and kissed his cheek. "Grab the tomatoes out of the oven while I finish the eggs."
I did seriously consider using a text app for this section, but after HoldHerTightAndSayHerName's masterpiece "Love In The Time of Quarantine", which exists entirely via text, I couldn't bring myself to do it using any app I found.
That ground, as far as I'm concerned, is sacred.
What you really came here for.
I owe a debt of gratitude to @Albatross1013 for keeping me on track and reading this in bits and pieces as I sent them to her.
Also, her hair allegedly caught fire more than once.
We ate cross-legged on my sofa, each at an end, facing each other with plates balanced on our laps. We went over the lighter bits of the day, and especially laughed at how uncomfortable those in the room seemed to be during our sex scene. There was the crew member who'd adjusted the lights... and then couldn't look at anything but his shoes for most of the day. The female sound technician who seemed entirely too warm in her light jacket, which she removed before lunch. The cardigan she'd jettisoned not long after. Soon, she was down to only a t-shirt, which she frequently fanned, trying to cool off.
"What a bunch of Puritans," I mused.
"Well, I don't know. You were pretty hot." Eyes on me, he took a long drink.
[... breathe ...]
"I could say the same thing about you," I returned, raising one brow suggestively.
He went coquette with a flutter of his lashes: "What, little ol' me?"
That made me giggle. I sized him up across the sofa. Something was different about him: his posture was less rigid, his energy far less frantic.
"You seem... relaxed."
"Well, that's because I am," he answered.
"Hmm. No, I mean you seem more relaxed than you were a while ago."
He pretended to think. "Whisky?"
"Could be, but... no. I don't think so. There's a lot less tension coming off of you." I narrowed my eyes.
He glanced around. "Whisky?" Toothy smile.
"All right. What gives, Heughan?"
His head sunk, and he loudly exhaled. He knew he'd been had. "Ok, Balfie. Uh, I may have seen to one of my baser needs in the shower."
[That explains it. And also: no way. He did?]
"You didn't. You had a wank in my shower?"
He nodded, suitably embarrassed, which, after the day I'd had, felt gratifying. "Well, I did. It's a real thing, and it has a name."
I gave him some serious side-eye..."Yeah, I know what that's called."
He chuckled. "No, not the word you're thinking of. This one's in the Urban Dictionary, and it's called 'pre-bating'. You do it before you go on a date so that sex isn't at the forefront of your mind. Besides, it was the only way I could think of to slow myself down and not make you feel pressured. Pouch or no pouch, you've had me worked up all day."
"You think we're on a date?" I sat a bit straighter and smiled.
"Oh Balfie, I don't know what this is. Call it whatever you like: a meeting, a dinner, a date. I just know that I want to be here, with you, as long as you'll let me, in whatever way I can."
I emptied my glass. "More whisky?" I stood, despite feeling a bit dizzy, and reached for his glass. Realizing it still had a bit left, he drained it before handing it to me.
"Yes, peez!" All teeth, eyes shut tight, like a boy who's proud he finished his veg and knows he's just earned pudding.
"You're ridiculous," I laughed.
Refilling our glasses with two very generous drams, I returned to my end of the sofa. We both took a long drink.
"What did you mean earlier tonight when you said you always think of me?"
He swirled the whisky in his glass. "I didn't mean to leave room for ambiguity. Did I?"
I tried to hide my smile with my glass, and took a sip. "Maybe just a bit."
He sighed audibly, then locked eyes with mine. "Are you sure you can handle the clarification?"
He nearly choked on his whisky at that, coughed, then wrinkled his nose, threw his head back, and laughed long and hard. "Well done."
I raised my glass: "Thank you."
He leaned over, set his glass on my coffee table, clasped his empty hands together, looked at me, and spoke.
"I said I always think of you because I do. All the time. You're the first clear thought I have when I wake, and the last blurry image I see before I sleep." He shrugged. "All the best moments in between are when I get to be with you. And even then I find myself thinking of you: whether you're warm enough, or if someone grabs your arm in a scene, was it too forceful? A strand of your hair falls in your face, and I want to reach for it. When you have a headache after a long day, I want to tell Finnie to mind the bumpy roads. And the only person who knows all of this is my mum. She's known since I told her about our chemistry test. She says it's the first time any real magic came out of LA. So there's that, from the person I trust the most. In so many words, yes, I meant what I said: I always think of you."
I had not expected him to skip an icebreaker and go right to heartfelt vulnerability, but he did. His words fit (vertically, lengthwise, diagonally) into cracks of my life I'd never felt until the moment he filled them.
He had paused but not finished. "All of what I've said is true. And you aren't just a fuck to me. But make no mistake, Caitriona... I do wanna fuck you senseless."
[Oh. My. God.]
I was on the wrong end of the sofa. The last thing I saw as I closed the gap was a barely-perceptible lick of his lips.
He welcomed me with an open mouth and an eager tongue. His arms anchored me to him, and our kissing was deliciously frantic, relentless. His legs parted to make room for me, and his pelvis pressed up against me. I wiggled my hips to better feel the outline of him through his jeans. He was big; that much I already knew from set, but having the freedom to explore him the way I wanted to was entirely intoxicating. One large hand closed around the nape of my neck, winding through my hair, while the other went under my t-shirt. Finding only skin as he slid his hands up my back, he made a low, needy growl that reverberated through his chest and into mine. He used the hand in my hair to pull my mouth from his, which left me gasping.
"Not just a fuck," he asserted as his eyes searched mine.
I gently, deliberately, shook my head. "Not just a fuck."
At that, I felt his cock twitch. "Arms up." I raised them without hesitation, turned on even more by his commanding tone, and he slipped my shirt off in one smooth tug. He lifted his torso off the sofa (and me with him), and accomplished three things simultaneously: he removed his own shirt, positioned us upright with my legs straddling him, and let his feet touch the floor.
[Holyshitfuck...that was smooth]
He supported my thighs with his capable forearms, stood up as if I weighed nothing, and never stopped kissing me as he moved us to my bedroom. Each step made my nipples brush against his chest. It was clearly electric for both of us: sometimes it was me who softly moaned at the contact; sometimes it was him.
He took us to the edge of my bed and bent to set me down. I had a clear shot to get his jeans off, and I took it. Fast as lightning, though, he swatted my hands away from his fly and turned my lounge pants inside out and over my ankles. Upon finding no panties, his eyes went dark. "Ohhhh God. I have to get my mouth on you."
His fists landed on either side of me, and I moved up and back as he followed. He kissed me all the way up the bed until my head fell back onto my pillow with a soft whoosh.
He kissed my forehead. "Be right back."
I watched him go into the bathroom in only his jeans, which were slung low on his hips. He came out holding a fluffy bath towel and left the bathroom light on so we wouldn't be fumbling in the dark. As he made his way to me, he unfolded the towel once so that it was still doubled over. "Up." I pushed with my feet to raise my arse, which gave him an up-close look at my sex ("Mmmm... so pretty") as he slipped the towel under me.
"You're very confident."
"Nah. I saw what you were capable of in the trailer." He wagged his brows and descended over me again.
His mouth traveled from my lips to my jaw, my earlobe to my neck, kissing and tasting me everywhere. The trails he left were cool to the air and felt like melting snow on my heated skin. For my part, I fisted his soft, textured curls with one hand and traced his bottom lip as it closed around my nipple. He licked and suckled. Kissed and teased it with teeth, then licked the pad of my thumb before sucking the tip with his eyes on mine.
[That is the hottest thing I've ever seen]
He maintained eye contact as he traveled down my body. After kissing my navel, he changed tactic by pressing his tongue flat and descending agonizingly slowly toward his destination. Each inch made me slicker than the last. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying driving me mad with anticipation. When he reached his target, he was already in position and used his tongue to part my lips.
I gave in to the sudden urge to feed myself to him and rose, pressing my swollen clit against his mouth. He obliged me with one firm suck before holding my thighs down in place, which made me cry out in protest.
"Greedy little kitty Cait."
God, I was actually writhing.
"Hey." I opened my eyes at that. "Look at me. Prop up on your elbows or a second pillow, but I want to see your eyes on my face as I make you come. I want you to see yourself coating me, and how I enjoy it."
That got me so hot I nearly came from his words alone. My throat went dry. I was sorely tempted to touch myself right in front of him, just to get there. Instead, I propped more pillows under me like he said. As I did so, he used the spare four seconds to take off his jeans, revealing black Under Armour boxer briefs. Armed he was, indeed.
He crawled back up to me, locked eyes, inhaled deeply, licked me once, and fully devoured my sex like he had my mouth at Leoch. He held me open with his two thumbs, exposing my clit. I was so close already, and with each little jolt he gave me, I felt my forehead knit tightly. Still, I kept my eyes on him, and he checked that I did. He coated two fingers in my wetness, making me whine, for I knew what was next.
He thrust them in. "Ohhh God ohGod yesss", I hissed. I knew I had no more than five seconds left in me. He took it down to two when he added thumb circles on my clit with his other hand. I held his gaze, but couldn't hold still.
"Yes, come! God, Cait. I'm so thirsty."
Still fucking, still circling. I stopped breathing, eyes on him. The dam broke. As soon as it did, he withdrew his fingers and drank it in, growling low in his throat.
I was... not crying, exactly... more like mewling. Whimpering. Gasping. My sex was on fire. It was too hot, too sensitive, too much.
"Fuck yes. Again!" I looked at him in disbelief.
"Sam, I can't. I..." He was nodding at me, licking his fingers and sucking my juices off his lips.
"Yes you can. You will. Give me another one, come on." He worked his thumb on my clit again, rubbing til it felt nearly raw, this time using his tongue instead of fingers. He lapped at my inner walls like a parched man at a dripping faucet, desperate to be given more. I felt my thighs quiver and convulse, and then I came, wailing like a banshee as my back arched completely off the bed.
"God, Cait. That was the most beautiful sight."
He kissed my inner thighs and gently rubbed my still-shaky muscles. "Rest for a bit now. Water? Whisky?"
I nodded. "Both."
He left my room and came back with two glasses. I couldn't help but smile.
[He makes one hell of a sundial.]
He sipped whisky while I downed most of the water. Then we switched, and I took a long swig of the whisky, too.
"Better?" he asked.
"Yes." I set the whisky glass on my bedside table. "You?" He nodded and I motioned for him to hand me the water glass, which I placed beside it.
"Good. Your turn." I pushed him down where he sat, so that he lay back diagonally with his head at one corner of the foot of my bed. Clearly surprised, his eyes blew wide. I got on all fours and held eye contact while I slowly moved closer, then closer still. I stopped when his cock was below my face. I saw a clear bead of moisture at the tip. "Mmmm," I hummed approvingly as I bent down, flanking him with my breasts. I stuck the tip of my tongue out, touched it, and let the bead elongate as I moved upward. I watched him watching me while I did this. He gasped.
"Ohhh my God, Cait."
I lowered my head back down, took the very tip into my mouth, swirled my tongue, and gave it a soft kiss. He was trying to control his breathing. It made me feel powerful, and I liked it. I dipped down between his legs, kissed his inner thighs, then brushed his heavy balls with my left cheek, nose, right cheek. I teased him, letting him feel me this close, making him picture it.
I felt half-drunk on pheromones. Or maybe the scent of my soap mixed with his natural musk, but I gently sucked one testicle into my mouth. He hissed through his teeth. Then I did the same with the other, feeling the weight of it, the puckered skin. As I drew both of them in, he drew his knees up so that his thighs touched my temples. He reached down for me and threaded a hand through my hair. As I rolled them both around with my tongue, I reached up and touched his hand. He released my hair and tightly knit his fingers with mine. The fact of him wanting, needing contact like that right now was not only moving; it was also a huge turn-on.
[Not just a fuck.]
I released his balls, but not his hand, as I traced my tongue up the underside of his shaft. I felt a vein spring back, and he groaned. Back at the head of his cock, still holding his hand, I waited until he made eye contact, then allowed him to watch inch after inch of himself disappear between my lips.
"Ohhhh Caaait..." I took him as deep as I'd ever taken anyone, but there was still the base left untouched. I closed my free hand around it and moved in time with my mouth. Gently, I slid his foreskin over the head and inserted the tip of my tongue to explore the circumference of the space between.
"Cait.... ungh.... shitfuck...." Writhing now, as I had been under him, abdominals tensing as I continued to work him tip to base.
"I'm not gonna make it. Babe, babe. You gotta... fuck... come here. I have to be inside you. Please." He broke free of my hand and cupped my face, pulling me free with a *pop*.
He came at me with open mouth, and I let him engulf mine. His hands were everywhere (neck, breast, thigh) in a blur of sensation. He took his cock in hand and traced it along my slit, up and down while his mouth closed over a breast. "God, you're still so wet. I need you. Right now. Tell me you grabbed the condoms."
Breathily, I said: "Yes. I put them in the nightstand drawer earlier."
"I didn't see you put them in here."
"Well, you were busy in the shower."
He smiled, kissed my forehead, and reached over to open the drawer. He grabbed a condom, tore open the packet, and rolled it on.
"I still can't believe the crew did this."
I laughed. "Seems they knew before we did."
He positioned himself over me, and I spread my legs. "Ready?" he asked.
He took himself in hand by the base and lined up. "I have wanted this for a very long time." He fed himself into me, slowly at first, tentatively.
"So have I... Sam, don't hold back."
"Are you sure?"
I pushed my pelvis forward to urge him deeper. "Yes."
In a single motion, he was completely inside. I felt the burning stretch all at once and cried out in pain-pleasure: "Oh! God!"
He stilled, studying my reaction. He knew he was big. In response, I wrapped my legs around his lower back and pressed him into me.
"Fuck." Which is exactly what he did in earnest, backing out and slamming forward hard enough to sound like a slap. He set a manic pace, slowing now and then to kiss me or whisper hot in my ear: "So good. Beautiful. You're a goddess, Cait. A fucking goddess." Then he'd kiss me or close his lips around my tongue before picking up the pace.
It felt like nothing I'd ever known before. Maybe the closest sensation would be swimming: smoothly propelling through a body of water, or jumping in time with the undulation of incoming waves. I was weightless, clinging to his mass so I wouldn't float away.
"Put a leg on my shoulder," he said, never missing a beat. It was awkward to do but worth it; it changed the angle. "Aaah yeah... fuck, that's good. Now the other." I repeated the move, and his angle of entrance was changed to nearly vertical. He was fucking downward into me. Deeply.
Not only that, my clit was fully exposed and stimulated with every thrust. In no time, I teetered on the brink of orgasm. It undid him as well: "Oh God, Cait Cait..." Frenzied now, off his rhythm, hitting my clit at irregular intervals, I called out his name as we came together.
"Is there any guac left?"
I had closed my eyes while he was tidying up in the bathroom. I opened them at the sound of his voice to see a large ginger man leaning over me, stark naked but for a lightweight throw blanket which he'd tied about his neck.
I burst out laughing. "Are you wearing a cape?"
He stood up and put both fists at his hips, elbows out, and adopted a far-off look at the wall. "Yes. I am wearing a cape." Looking at me then, he added: "Thought it'd be rude to walk about your flat naked, looking for food, like I owned the place." He shrugged. "A cape seemed like the answer. Plus, it's cool."
I laughed again. "Oh my God, you're ridiculous. There's some left in the fridge." As I rose to grab a long silk robe, he was already gone. "And don't eat it all", I called out after him.
By the time I reached the kitchen he was sitting on the countertop (atop his cape, of course), greedily clutching the bowl of guacamole. His eyes were on me as I sauntered past him to the pantry and dramatically produced a bag of Essential Waitrose salted tortilla chips. He drew an audible breath of mock surprise. "No fair. You know where everything is."
I smiled and shimmied with the chip bag in front of my chest. "I'll share mine if you share yours." He looked down at his clingfilm-covered bowl and frowned.
"Damn. Get over here, you evil temptress."
I stood between his dangling calves as we finished the guac and half the chips. At times, he would set down the bowl and draw me to him, running his hands through my hair as we leisurely kissed. Once, I licked guacamole off his index finger. Other times, he couldn't stop eating long enough to touch me, so he let a wandering calf slide up the back of my leg and caress my arse, keeping me hyper-aware of my near-nudity. My own meandering hands explored his thighs, hips, and lower back, enjoying the freedom to touch him as much as I wanted.
[Sexy chips and guac. Who would have thought?]
I rinsed the empty bowl, poured us two more Bushmills, and we clinked glasses.
"Can I ask you a question?"
I nodded while taking a sip, suddenly nervous.
"In the trailer," he began. "You said you were serious about asking me... to... you know... and you said there were a thousand reasons why. Will you tell me?" His face was purity itself. "Please?"
"Well, I mean, maybe not a thousand."
"Cait." His head was cocked downward, and his eyes asked for truth.
"Okay." As he had done earlier, I set down my glass. I took a deep breath before laying my soul as bare as my body. Reflexively, I gathered the sides of my open robe around me to have something to hold on to, and began.
"The day I met you in LA was the end of the old me. It wasn't because of the job. I mean, I was nervous about the audition, and excited about the job, but I hadn't counted on... well, on you. You were just so beautiful and warm and fun to be with. You drew me in and steadied me. I didn't feel self-conscious or like I had to be cool or pretentious around you. You were different, and you changed me."
I stole a glance at him. He had the faintest smile, and I briefly thought his eyes were moist. Maybe they were glassy from the whisky?
"I don't have to be the model, you know? I can wear my dorky glasses and have messy hair and still feel pretty around you. You look at me the same then as you do when I'm professionally made up. I like how I feel when I'm with you. I get happy when I see your car pull up on set. When your arm goes around me, I get butterflies like I'm fifteen years old again... and I tried to convince myself that it was the role, or my naivete, that this is how it's supposed to feel with a costar."
I decided to look at him directly now, and noticed that at some point a tear had slipped out and left its trail down his cheek.
[Not the whisky, then.]
"But how we are together isn't part of the job, and I'm done pretending that it is. You're sitting on my countertop wearing a fucking cape, for God's sake. And since we already agreed this isn't just a fuck, I'll take it one step further: I'm... in love with you. I love you."
He slid down to the floor and was on me in less than a second. Kissing my lips, kissing my forehead, holding me to him. He sniffled once, then... laughed, his chest heaving in spasms.
"Thank GOD. I love you, too. I love you." A kiss on my nose. "I love you." A kiss on both eyelids. "I love you." He lifted me up on the countertop and turned his back to me, urging me to hold on.
"C'mon. Back to bed." He carried me piggyback. All I could do was cross my arms below his neck where his cape was tied, tease his ear with my tongue, and giggle.
[God, I love this man]
He gently set me down on the bed and I slipped out of my robe. "Ooh," he said. "I wanna be naked too."
"You pretty much are. I can see your bits."
He untied his cape. "'Bits', is it?" He narrowed his eyes and lay down beside me, turning to face me. He was smiling.
I took an exaggerated look down at his cock as it came to life in my direction, looked again at him, and shook my head. Smiling, he wagged his brows and nodded. "Right."
He reached for me and pulled me to him, hands traveling across the expanse of my back and down to my arse, kissing me steadily. He was warm and inviting and smelled divine, like whisky and rainwater and soap and sex. As he suckled down my neck and found refuge in my breasts, I buried my nose in his curls and felt drunk on the scent of him, the shape of him, the feel of him as he loved me.
I hooked a leg up over his hip, creating room to sneak a hand down to palm his cock. He hissed against my skin before taking a nipple into his mouth. I sighed low and long, arching my back to give him better access. He suckled deeper, drawing a moan out of me, and brought a hand to rest on my sex with a touch so light, he was barely making contact. "Cait. The heat coming off of you... my God, woman... I will crave you for the rest of my life."
His middle finger gently stroked me as I felt the weight of his balls in my palm and reached farther to feel the smooth skin right behind them against my fingertips. He gasped and bucked a bit in surprise; his cock once again found my hand, and I closed around it, giving him a place to gently thrust forward again and again.
"That feels... so... good." He breathed his words into my neck. "Don't stop." I softly twisted my fingers this way and that, teasing his cock with steady pressure. In response he slid two fingers into me with a gentle twisting motion, grazing my inner thighs with the other two each time he followed through. It was dizzying, and I grew more and more breathless as his hand slowly ground into me. By the time his thumb touched my clit, I shuddered.
"Yesss," he coaxed. "Come on, love. Let me feel it." I came for him before he was finished talking, open-mouthed but silent.
"Oh God. So beautiful." I felt a drop of moisture leak onto my moving hand just then, as if to confirm just how much he enjoyed drawing pleasure out of me.
"Babe," he whispered. "Can you reach the nightstand? I wanna be in you so bad..."
With him anchoring me at my back, I managed to contort enough to return with a packet in hand. I tore it open with my teeth: "I want to do it," I whispered, smiling.
He bit his bottom lip and nodded as I rolled it down the length of him. "Let's stay like this, okay? Facing each other. Equals."
[This is the last man I will ever want]
I kissed him deeply at that, both hands caressing his jawline. "I love you," I breathed as he positioned his legs between my thighs.
"Mmm, I love you too." His forearms slid under my thighs, cradling me. I ceded control of my pelvis and let him bring me over his cock til I was flush with his torso. That first motion went so deep as to elicit an unexpected "Oh" from both of us. I swept his lips with my tongue and closed around his mouth, when I felt him start to swing my hips away, moving me backwards off his cock to start again.
He moved me, to and fro, sliding us together and back apart, at a pace that kept me guessing: for five strokes he might keep steady, only to move me halfway off before resheathing himself by bringing me over him hard and holding me there.
For my part, I clamped tight around him at irregular intervals: pulsing now, leaving him wanting when I relaxed, then holding tight for a full five seconds as he moved me over him, his mouth coming open with a strangled moan.
This was making love: slowly and deliberately, face to face, chasing each other's pleasure, savouring it, and giving more.
My breathing relaxed as he set a regular pace, and I heard myself whisper:
"I love you without... knowing how..."
In his eyes, a spark of recognition as I went on.
"Or when..." I sighed as he moved me over him again. "Or from where..."
"Ahh," he breathed before he whispered: "I love you... straightforwardly..."
My turn. "Without complexities or pride... ohh"
Him: "I love you because I know of ... mmm, God... no other way than this..."
Me: "Where I does not exist, nor you..."
Him, picking up the pace now: "So close that your hand on my chest is my hand..."
Together: "...So close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."
He was close, struggling to keep his eyes on me as he brought me over his cock in irregular staccato bursts now. Determined to finish with him, I shot a hand down between our bodies and felt his girth inside me, then reached higher and unabashedly fingered my clit in front of him.
His eyes blew wide, but they stayed on mine. He could feel my movements below, and seemed intent on watching my eyelids flutter as I began to nod and breathe irregularly.
"Oh God," he growled, "that is so fucking hot, ungh." Next, he turned my nickname into four distinct syllables as he came: "CA/AA/AA/AIT!" I came hard, nearly pushing him out of my body as I did so, but he instinctively pushed back and somehow I came even harder.
I clung to him then, and he to me, until the latex between us had outworn its welcome and he got up.
When he came back to bed, he leaned down and brought his tongue to my lips, kissed me deeply, and left me sucking his tongue as he pulled away to curl around me. "I love you so much," he kissed into my hair.
"That didn't bother you?" I asked.
"What? There at the end? Hell, no!" He pulled me tighter. "I've never seen anything that hot in my life!"
"Good." Truly, that was a relief.
He shot straight up and gasped: "Don't tell me someone ever left you a negative Yelp review for that?!"
I burst out laughing. "No, no. I just wanted to be sure you didn't take it as a slight. There was no way we weren't going to come together after tag-teaming Sonnet Seventeen. No. Way."
He lay back down and curled around me. "I like how you think."
After a minute, he whispered: "Babe? Can I ask a favor?"
"My whole life I've been the big spoon. Can I see what it feels like to be the little spoon?"
I did not expect that, and again I laughed. "Are you always like this?"
He thought, keeping me in suspense before his whole face burst out with: "Yes!"
"Oh God. Roll over." To be sure I could clear him, I propped myself up on an extra pillow and curled my leg around his hip. I enveloped him as best I could. "How's that?"
"It's nice. I can see why people like this."
I kissed his ear. "I love you."
"Love you too. Just one more thing?"
"Um, Ms. Bal-FAY? Is that...? Am I correct in thinking there is an accent at the end?"
My giggles shook his body.
"Anyway, Miss B." He sounded like a used car salesman now, slick and shameless. "What... can I do... to get you in to a relationship... today?"
"Just go to sleep."