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The Arrangement

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She lay in a facedown fetal position on the bed, knees and elbows tucked beneath her. He’d left the window open and the cool breeze sent shivers through her as it played along her skin. She heard him approach and very slightly tilted her hips, presenting herself, waiting for him.

A finger ran lightly down her spine, leaving a tingly trail that combined with the breeze to travel outward along her nerves; it felt like he was touching her everywhere at once. She pressed her face to the comforter beneath her to stifle her moan. His fingers and hands continued to caress her skin until she could barely stand the sensation as he sought out every erogenous zone he had discovered over the years.

Her brain was fighting to reassert itself, forcing unwelcome thoughts through the blissful haze he had created. She shouldn’t even be here now. Not that this was ever right, but now he was part of the problem she wanted to escape, part of the pain and confusion and anger and rejection she felt when he left her to flounder her own way through Daniel’s Ascension (death). But she had come here tonight, let herself in and stripped and waited for him, because this was what they did, their own twisted tradition in the face of despair and overwhelming odds when the stress was eating them alive and there was no other outlet.

She gasped when she felt a finger probe her entrance, slicking itself with her own arousal before it began a slow, steady circuit around her vulva, but she said nothing. The unwritten rules for these nights were followed without question: no words were ever exchanged, only one of them was ever undressed at a time, only one of them would be brought to orgasm in a night by the other, and orgasm was only ever achieved by manual stimulation. All the constructs they used to prove that they did not have a relationship; they had an arrangement.

She shuddered as he continued to bypass her aching clitoris, the pressure over, around, driving her need to nearly torturous proportions. Every time she wordlessly pushed back toward his hand, desperate for relief, he would draw back until she stilled. He had never teased her this long before; the whole point of these interludes was to focus the tension and then release it. Was he deliberately drawing this out as retribution for her anger?

She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, desire quivering through her entire body as she waited for him to resume. She could feel his eyes on her, hear her pulse pounding loudly in her ears, as she waited. She heard him draw in a shuddering breath and he laid a hand gently on her back.

“Sam,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, pained. The movement of metal and leather sounded loudly through the room as he quickly removed his belt and unzipped his pants. She looked back at him, lust battling confusion as she watched him shed his clothes with lightning efficiency. He took his penis in his hand and rubbed himself against her, not even needing to dip inside to collect enough moisture to smoothly trail up to her clit and down again.

The sudden touch made her hips buck and jarred her from the stasis she seemed to be stuck in. “Jack,” she said hoarsely. “We... this... We don’t do this.”

He looked directly into her eyes then and she nearly flinched at the torment and desolation she saw there. But there was restraint too, and gentleness, and affection, and desire. “We didn’t,” he answered, stilling all movement. “And we won’t if you say no.” An offer. A question. His voice held no expectation, no threat of recrimination should she stop this now. He wouldn’t tell her how much he needed this, wouldn’t put that on her.

He waited. She waited. This would change everything; it would change nothing. They had been fooling themselves for years that these encounters were meaningless. It was time to admit, at least to themselves, the lie they had been living.

Her “Yes” was carried on a sigh as she pushed back, her mind a chaos of mental and physical sensation as she felt his cock open her, fill her, felt him begin to rock into her with slow, measured strokes. He moved one hand so that he could get a couple of fingers on her clit, rubbing and stroking in time with his movements.

Her orgasm surprised both of them and he stilled, allowing her to arch and grind against him, gritting his teeth against the ecstasy of her muscles clenched tight around him. She pounded a fist against the bed, burying her face in the covers again, her moans still audible through the thick fabric. The most intense of the contractions started to tail off and she rocked up onto her knees now, gently undulating her hips, her pussy caressing his cock, angling and pulling and rolling. He rested his hands lightly on her hips. She could hear his ragged breathing as she continued to move on him until he let out a choked gasp and pulled her back toward him as he began to move quick and deep within her.

She wasn’t crying out words, just half-formed vocalizations jarred from her with each thrust. She felt him grow even harder as he neared his climax, the increased pressure within her prompting a fresh surge of pleasure. She relaxed her lower body, taking him in without any resistance. He groaned her name and she felt the warm pulses of his orgasm as he pressed himself flush to her groin, hands painfully tight on her hips.

Slowly, he came down, relaxed his hands, stroking gently over the bruised areas, and leaned down to feather kisses along her spine. “Sam, Sam,” he chanted her name over and over. She gently moved forward and off of him on shaky legs and turned to face him, half-lying on the far side of the bed, her breaths still shallow and quick. She tentatively held out a hand, uncertain of what he wanted to happen next.

He crawled onto the bed, no more coordinated than she, and together they pushed their way under the tangled sheets. He laid on his back and pulled her to him. She came willingly, resting her head between his shoulder and chest, feeling the pounding of his still rapid heartbeat. She wrapped an arm and a leg over him, holding him tightly in return, feeling the weight of his head rest against hers. All the questions that were half-formed in her mind would wait until morning as she gave in to the allure of real sleep for the first time in weeks.