alwaysright | October 30, 2007

October 30, 2007 - Evening

For the rest of the afternoon, Foreman found himself chuckling at odd moments. He'd be in the middle of the monstrous pile of paperwork, his back cramping from leaning over, his eyes aching, and all of a sudden he'd realize he was grinning like an idiot. He'd glance up, glad that there wasn't anyone to catch him at it, and think of Amber suffering horribly down in the clinic, and shake his head before going back to work. She'd be tired after a long day, and if her reaction to the usual run of mild complaints was anything like his, she'd be too tired to do much tonight other than go home and collapse. Foreman could spare some compassion then: he'd offer to cook, or at least, to order something in. Hell, even massage her feet if she wanted. The fact that he was going with her--that she'd invited him again, and that he already had all the things he'd need waiting in his car--buoyed him up, even when the stack of consult requests only seemed to get stupider the deeper he delved into them.

By twenty to five, Foreman had sent form letter replies to as many idiot doctors as he could without losing his faith in humanity. He'd go down and let the candidates off early, be magnanimous for as long as he could afford to be. He needed to ingratiate himself with them somehow, even if was only by knocking fifteen minutes off their drudgery. Cuddy could hardly complain: she'd been underusing six of the most talented doctors in the hospital for most of the day, and, Foreman knew--since they had to be sharing Cameron and Chase's old salaries among them--for a pittance. House was a bastard, but days like this were ones Cuddy probably counted as a win in their perpetual battle.

Foreman turned of the computer, turned off the lights, and grabbed his coat. He wouldn't bother with his briefcase tonight; he wasn't planning on sucking up to Cuddy any more than he'd be compromising with House. If he'd gotten his own office and his own staff like he'd asked for, then she could think about making him stay late trudging through House's paperwork.

He arrived in the clinic five minutes later. The first person he saw was Brennan, who only gave him a mildly disgruntled stare when Foreman gave him permission to go. He snorted, but he seemed glad enough to go and tell the others that they were off the hook.

Foreman checked the board to see which exam room Amber was in with her last patient, and, leaving his coat at the nurses' station, he went and knocked on the door. He was already sure that everyone in the whole hospital was well aware of what was going on between him and Amber. That didn't mean that he had to confirm all their suspicions--but he could also take a few liberties that he might not have if they were still being 'discreet'. Feeling pleased with himself, he opened it just enough to stick his head in and said, with as much seriousness as he could muster, "Dr. Volakis, could I have a word with you?"

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Under the covers, with Amber pressed against him, Foreman already felt warmer. He'd meant to comfort her, but it was working on him as well. Proximity. Easiness. He ran his hand down her spine, then back up, a quiet, soothing stroking. He could feel her breasts against his chest, her breath on his lips, and in other circumstances, it would be arousing; for now, he simply drifted on the good feeling of having her close. And then closer, when she entwined their legs, and answered his strokes with ones of her own, over his hip. Foreman was still waiting for her to answer his question, or he might have curved his hand over her ass and pulled her even closer, until her pubic hair brushed his stomach. It was an idle thought, but one that heated his body even more than their shared body heat did.

He smiled slightly, taking Amber's answer as an apology of sorts. If he was good, that meant it couldn't have been entirely his fault, whatever had made her so upset. He was about to say something, tease, maybe ask her for an answer outside of this room, if he was the only good thing she could think of when he was this close, but then he felt her shift. Her breath came closer, until he could feel the aura of her, the warmth of her lips were so close to his. His mouth opened slightly, parting his lips in anticipation, and a second later Amber brushed a barely-there kiss across them. Foreman's breath hitched lightly when her tongue followed, a flick that wetted his lips and made his heart pound.

He wasn't going to assume. Fuck, that really would get him into trouble. At this point, it seemed like saying anything would. Amber's face was still close; there was the softest glow around her silhouette, light from the doorway and the curtained window catching in her hair. Foreman lifted his head and answered her kiss, the feather-light pressure, the momentary length. His arm was still around her, and Foreman slipped his palm down to her ass, the way he'd fantasized, and drew her the last half-inch closer. After that, the next move would have to come from her.

Contentment bloomed through Amber, filling her. Eric reciprocated her kiss, matching her tone, and then took it up a notch, pulling her to him. It was comfortable, sweet, and so very arousing. He was so firm, but gentle, too, using just the right amount of force in molding his hand to her ass, nudging her closer. Amber automatically fell into the same rhythm, hips rolling even as he coaxed her closer, closer. It was like that soap sud on his chest in the shower: beautiful and shining and delicate. She'd popped that one, for the fun of it, but this, this moment, Amber wanted to cup it, protect it. Make it last.

Maybe she was just avoiding what had happened. Escaping her embarrassment and fears in sensuality, just as Eric had tried to drive away his anger against Marcus by overpowering her. But if she could-- if Eric were willing-- then she would.

Each heartbeat made Amber pulse, most of all between her legs, especially as she let herself, once, deliberately, brush her groin against Eric's hard abdomen; drew out the intensity of that motion, that suspended gasp of pleasure. Her own public hair scratched against her skin, sending tingles of excitement through her privates. Her hair down there was still damp, from when Eric had earlier made her peak, and Amber wondered if Eric would feel that wetness. If he'd like it as much as she did the mere thought.

Amber was becoming too hot, between her sweater and the covers and their combined body heat, but she didn't want to pull that article of clothing off; didn't want to break the spell with so sudden and drastic a movement. Feeling stuffy seemed a small price to pay to relish in this tenderness. Amber pushed her leg between his, slow like a cloud drifting through the sky, making her way up between his thighs. She considered the space before her: she could only just make out the outline of his head and shoulders. It'd be so good to see him, to know the expression he wore in this soft moment they were sharing. Maybe it was better she couldn't; seeing might make her heart ache with longing for what she had but could not last. It was enough just to lean in, holding his lower lip between hers (and, oh, it was familiar, that wide curve; it was Eric's, and it thrilled her that she knew it). Sucked it carefully, feeling the volume of his flesh. Breathed in deep, overcome.

God, yeah. This was happening. Or else Amber was a worse tease than Foreman would ever have believed. The soft fall of her leg between his, as if by accident; the arch of her hips against him, seemingly as innocent as a stretch; the light draw of her breath, even and deep as if she might drift off to sleep...they could have felt coy, or like the lazy touches that happened after sex, affirmations before sleeping. But the air felt electric, like they were both, somehow, holding their breaths. Waiting. As if they were both caught up on almost, nearly. Foreman encouraged Amber's long, unhurried thrusts by pulling her closer when she ground against him, then skimming his fingers up under the loose hem of her sweater when the surge faded. Sweat started on his skin again, in his armpits and where Amber's mons slipped over his hipbone. Still quietly, he was breathing deeper and faster. Visualizing the moment when Amber would go further.

The green light was her kiss. Foreman's satisfied hmm was hardly voiced, more of a vibration in his throat than a sound. In the dark, his sense of touch felt heightened, and Amber's careful, gentle sucking on his lip brought all his attention to that one spot, touching off a rush of enjoyment. Foreman echoed Amber's kiss as much as he could, tracing her lip with his tongue, nuzzling closer by lifting his head, ignoring the strain on his neck. He could feel each part of his body, the firm mattress underneath him, the tangle of sheets around his legs, the cotton of Amber's sweatshirt against his skin; but most of all, it was her hips rolling against him, and her soft insistence as she kissed him breathless.

They'd been more or less on their sides, and it was becoming awkward, with leverage for Amber to push against him. Foreman gradually rolled to his back, concentrating on the kiss the entire time, his arm around Amber bringing her with him. This way Amber could rub off against him, and he'd benefit too; her thigh, when she pushed against him, massaged his dick at the same time, her leg between his providing friction with each movement. Already, his dick felt heavier, fuller. Every stroke felt better than the last. A throbbing rhythm of pulses, sensation heightening the more Foreman concentrated, focused on maintaining the same slow, deep cadence.

Her head swam. It was hard to think, desire breaking over her like the tide on the beach. Each new wave made her thrust impulsively, harder, harder, satisfying the building urgency in her clit for friction, pressure. She wanted. But she was nervous. Did the terms still apply, were the decisions still hers? Did she want them to be? She could sense how delicious this was for Eric; heard it in his soft grunts, the deliberateness of his motions mirroring her own care so far. His dick was filling out, nice and steady and so hot against her thigh. Amber wanted this to be good for him. Like, really good. What he wanted too, good. But, oh god, she really wanted this, and would he, too? Would it be okay to ask, to change the direction? Not the mood, she wanted to keep that, it was bringing her to a slow, glowing burn, but it'd be different. Amber was hardly aware of her gasps as she ground more and more, her whole body, not just her hips, but shoulders and spine and ass cooperating in that essential up and down, up and down. His heartbeat reverberated deep in her, through the pulse of his dick, of his whole body. Jesus.

"Eric," she said around shallow breaths. Found his face in the dark, rubbing one hand against his cheek, her other one supporting her weight against the mattress, to bring down her mound more heavily down against his thigh. She was so wet, and his skin was slick, too slick for just his sweat. She must be rubbing off on him. "How'd you feel about--" Amber looked down, raising an eyebrow suggestively, before realizing that if she couldn't see him, then he couldn't see her. Waited a moment before speaking again, moaning at an especially pleasing brush. He'd enjoyed it in the past. Did it Thursday, said he'd wanted to do it in the restaurant. Tried it last night. She'd never been comfortable, it was too intimate, too much, and always before she was ready. Eric rushed into it, did it without her asking, when she wanted something else. But that must mean he liked it. Craved it. And now, at this precise instant, she did, too. Wanted it with every mind-melting throb emanating from her clit. "I need you to go down me. Please." It came out as a whisper, not the statement she'd intended.

Foreman was starting to answer Amber's thrusts, raising his hips each time Amber brought hers down. Both his hands were on her ass now, making sure the peak of each repetition brought both of them the most pleasure. Amber was so fucking wet, her gasps rising in frequency and pitch, her movements growing stronger and sharper--God, he could make her come this way, and they'd barely even started, and that turned him on so much. Foreman's mouth had fallen open, his breathing louder and harsher as his dick hardened. He wanted to say something, tell Amber how hot she was, but at the same time, it was almost like they'd agreed on silence, because words only got in the way.

When Amber spoke, it was nearly a surprise to hear his own name whispered in the dark. The way they'd been going so far, he'd expected this to be quieter. Their slower, deeper movements, yeah, but more than that, talking less. They'd been pretty loud in the living room. God, everything Amber had said had turned him on so much, even when he'd already come. Just the sound of her voice, her nearly obscene encouragements, telling him down to the instant what she wanted from him. So fucking hot. It had been so good, but this way had its benefits, too. Speaking with their bodies, telling each other how good it was without even a word. And hearing Amber's question, Foreman had so many questions--would she stop him halfway through? Would she leave him with a hard-on for the second night in a row? Foreman wanted to be patient, wanted not to care about that; he'd be a real bastard if he thought he was entitled to sex or to getting off with anything but his own hand. But Christ, if Amber got scared off every time, he'd stop offering, and respond less readily when she asked.

Without seeing her face, he couldn't know what it meant--if the break in her voice had simply meant that she'd found the perfect angle for a moment, or if it was something deeper, some hesitation. Foreman didn't even know if he could ask if she was sure without screwing this up. But she'd asked, and fuck, he wanted to. He wanted to prove it was nothing to be afraid of, that--like their first night--he could make it amazing, even if she had doubts. "Yeah," he whispered. He lifted a hand to cover hers on his cheek, squeezing her palm. One arm around Amber's back, Foreman shifted underneath her, until he could roll them back over, as gently as he could, not landing on her with his full weight. He supported himself on his knees and his forearms, and dropped a kiss on her lips, or as close as he could manage without seeing her. "Talk to me," he murmured. How she'd take that, he had no idea--to order him around, maybe, but mostly he wanted her to feel free to make him stop, if she wanted.

Kneeling between Amber's thighs, Foreman nudged up the hem of her sweatshirt with his fingertips and bent to kiss her stomach. He could smell her, and God, he could bury himself in that scent, taste every inch of her. Soon, but not too fast. Not too much. He ran his palms down Amber's legs, firmly, massaging her quads, while letting his mouth roam lightly down her abdomen until he reached her pubic hair. He paused to pant, close his eyes and breathe her in. He kissed her inner thigh, and, at last, moved closer. His lips were wet instantly, the thick, slippery taste of her strong in his mouth. Foreman licked his way up her labia, until his tongue found her clit. Yeah. Oh yeah. He went softly, tracing his tongue firm and slow over her clit, trying so damn hard not to overwhelm her, and still make her feel everything he could give her.

Just him rolling her over, with such precision that not even her hair mussed up got caught under any moving limbs, made Amber shiver with pleasure. Yes. He was keeping the pace. Going slow. This was safe. She kissed him back, fully, tasting as much as she could from those lips while she still could, before they kissed her elsewhere.

"Yeah," Amber whispered. "Okay." He wanted to hear her. She could tell him. What she wanted, what she needed. That'd feel good. She'd be in his hands (mouth). She was trusting him, and from their time at the desk, when he'd understood her wordless pleas as clearly as if she'd written them out, she believed he'd do the same now. Trusted him to pick up on her cues. She was in his care. But if she could tell him, that was one more comfort, one more reason for her to relax, to preemptively spread herself. "Make me feel good, Eric," she said just as softly, caressing his collar bone and shoulders before he slipped out of reach.

As he settled between her legs, Amber tore her sweat-damp sweater off. It had long since become greater than a nuisance; her breasts swayed with the motion, freed. Her nose was clearing up, and she could just pick up the scent of sex-- it'd be overwhelming under normal circumstances.

Her tummy quivered as he kissed her there, a new rush of arousal lighting up her pussy. God, how did he do this to her. How was he so amazing. Amber squirmed, panting, as Eric touched her, always guessing right, making her rigorously aware of forgotten body parts. The tingling spread everywhere, like ink in a glass of water, bringing pleasure to her quads, to her hamstrings. "Yeah. Yeah, like that," Amber said, still quiet. She curved her hands around his head, fingertips brushing against the pinpricks of buzzed hair; wanted to let him feel how good she felt.

Her abdomen clenched as he lowered again, in anticipation, in sudden worry. What if this was like last time. She hadn't predicted hurting like that. Amber forgot to take in air as she waited for his next action, for her reaction to it. But all she felt, his breath moist on where she felt so sensitive, was a desire for more. She whined, hoping Eric wouldn't stop there, or lag for long. And he didn't. Amber threw her head back, moaning, arching up, digging her elbows into the mattress. But-- she gasped. "Not yet," she said, pushing down away from his tongue. "Lower," she tried to explain, letting him know that she still wanted this, and how. She hoped the moment hadn't been ruined, that they could build on this. "My entrance, inside--"

He'd reached the highest pitch of awareness, everything in him aware of Amber. Her gasping breaths. Her writhing, eager motion against the bed, against his mouth. Her words. Make me feel good. His dick throbbed, hearing her say that, hearing her want that. God, yes. He'd make her feel good. Anything. Feeling her hands trace over the back of his head, and hearing her encouragements, Foreman let himself relax, catch his breath, and increase the pressure a notch.

A second later he drew back, turning his face toward Amber's damp thigh, and panted hard, forcing himself not to pull away entirely. Why the hell not yet? Why did she ask if she didn't want it? He barely heard Amber's next words, caught up in his own frustration, but a moment later he realized her hands were still guiding him closer, and she hadn't said stop. Different, that was all. Talking to him as he'd asked. Telling him. Foreman licked one long line along Amber's thigh, back toward her labia, tasting salt: sweat and arousal.

He took a breath, steadying himself, and went lower this time. He circled his tongue around her vagina, where she was even wetter, her taste stronger. Not pausing to tease for long, Foreman slipped his tongue inside her, the tip exploring slowly. His grip tightened on her thighs, then moved up to her hips, to steady her and himself. He was getting a crick in his neck, but that was the last thing on his mind. What mattered was Amber spreading her legs wider, reacting more strongly with each passing second. Foreman thrust his tongue deeper, feeling how tight she was with arousal. Imagining his dick inside her, now, feeling each pulse and throb of her around him--oh fuck, it'd be so good, so fucking good. Later. His breath was washing over her, his whole face damp and hot from rubbing against her, her pubic hair scratching his cheeks.

He knew now what it was. That Amber was sensitive, more than he'd ever expected, from her previous orgasm or simply from how strong her arousal was now. Foreman touched her just above her labia, not directly on her clit but higher up on her mons, where she'd still feel the pressure. He began massaging his fingertips in circles, the same motion that had brought Amber off so spectacularly in the living room. Nothing too firm, too insistent. With his tongue lapping upward, deeper inside her, and his fingers pressing, Foreman breathed as best he could through his nose and started a rhythm, so light and achingly slow, touching her at the same pace that he wanted, so badly, to feel around his dick as he thrust into her.

Amber fell back, elbows slipping until they no longer supported her, and raised her hips, moaning, shaking. She couldn't think, only feel, thrust, writhe, her existence concentrated down there, where it was burning and wet and she could only barely remember the reason why, Eric, but whatever it was, it could only be good. Her hands ran over her breasts, pinching, pressing, squeezing, lips falling open. God, she wished she could kiss him, taste him, breathe him deep to fill her head with his scent and not just this general smell of sex and sweat. It was almost a tease, that she couldn't. One half of her was ablaze, the other missed him so much. Amber bit her lip, holding back yet another sound, and then couldn't anymore, a cry tearing out of her. This was excruciating, depending so much on someone. This was absolutely out of her control, her most sensitive region at his mercy, and she had to count on him, to know how to get it right. Amber was skirting this side of pain, one misstep and she'd hurt, for real this time, like last night; worse. But after her correction, he'd understood, going lighter, going to where it felt good, softer, and Amber cried again, unable to stop herself, the pleasure was so great. Didn't notice how hard her ass was grinding against the bed, how much her back arched, the clench of her inner thighs so tight she'd ache tomorrow. Missed all the details of Eric probing her entrance, tongue and fingers exploring her swollen genitals.

Amber forgot time, lost in the increasingly higher brinks Eric raised her to. Forgot herself, every muscle of hers delivered to ecstasy, straining for climax. If she'd had the presence of mind, she'd have told him not to come; told him to save himself so that she could really feel him deep inside, where his tongue and fingers couldn't reach. Even now, about to come, Amber still wanted that, Eric as close, as inside, as he could be. It would never be enough. But they could do better. As it was, Amber could only clutch his head once more, because it was now, only she'd lost her words, and the best she could do was to angle him, her cries becoming louder and increasingly frustrated. He had to bring her off now, touch her clit more directly, because if the moment passed, she’d become too raw for any more. It’d be a repeat of last night.

Foreman was so hard it hurt. If he'd had a hand free, he would've reached down to stroke himself, echo the same pattern he was using with Amber--come with her--Christ. His erection curved against his stomach, and he moved his hips impatiently, need clenching low in his stomach, tightening his balls. If Amber had worried that he'd never manage to call her baby again, she needn't have. His mouth was too busy to form the words, but they filled his mind, over and over again; every motion was his way of saying it, of showing it. Amber's desperation had grown, her thighs squeezing tighter around him, her rolling thrusts opening her up to him as much as she could. Each new suck or lick brought a fresh, stronger taste of her with it. Foreman's skin burned, feeling Amber's heat in sympathy with his own.

Amber's frustration, her impatience, it all showed through. Her fingernails were pinching the skin at the back of his neck as she tried to pull him up; her hips were moving so much that she was nearly rubbing off on his face the way she'd been doing on his leg earlier. Each sound that left her throat seemed to be torn from her, high-pitched and halfway between pain and entreaty. They were wordless, sharp moans, ohh gasped out, and Foreman knew she needed more. Was asking for more. He was almost hesitant to go further, though. The last thing he wanted was to ruin it now. Just enough, just that last touch--God, he wanted her to remember this, remember feeling like this, remember trusting him. He never wanted to hurt her.

He switched positions, sliding one finger inside Amber, enough to give her something to clench down on, not so much that his thrusts would leave her oversensitive. His mouth went to her clit, careful, so goddamn careful. One swirling lick, paying attention to Amber's reaction, straining his ears to hear her, concentrating on her hands tightening around the back of his head. All the signs pointed towards keep going, and he did, sucking gently on her clit, adding the occasional probe with his tongue, his finger inside her rubbing almost delicately. Foreman increased the suction incrementally, let Amber's hips free to push herself against him or to pull away, tell him what she wanted. She had to be close. Because of him. Wild, because of him, lost and needy and feeling so good, for him. So hot. Come on, baby. Come for me.

Amber screamed. Didn't even know it, it just came out of her, together with the rest of her orgasm, flooding her every nerve, muscle, cell with intensity. Couldn't even really tell if it was pleasure or pain, just that she was heightened with awareness of her self, and that she was crashing, crashing. And then she was sobbing, because past the first wave, it felt good, and she covered her face, her body jerking helplessly with each new ripple. Eventually the sensations ebbed away, leaving her mostly with a faint humming all over.

That was-- no, words still hadn't come back to her. Amber took a shuddering breath, sitting up, trying to avoid any more physical stimulation to her genitals. She was tired, raw, sated, like she'd just finished five exercise sessions one after the other. Tingled all over. But she sought Eric with her hands, wanting to bring him up, to kiss him, to hold him as her heart kept on swelling, threatening to burst. She wanted to tell him, to give him an inkling of how she'd felt and was feeling, and how, if she weren't so exhausted, happy she'd be. Amber wouldn't have told him how dependent she'd been there, relying on his every movement to keep her on the right track, as if he'd been carrying her along the edge of a cliff. That she'd keep to herself. But if he'd known, read her well enough, how to keep her from falling, then he could probably notice all that without her saying a single thing. Amber sighed, carressing with her hands every part of him within reach, trying to communicate that way some of the emotion inside her.

Foreman lessened the intensity almost as soon as he heard Amber's scream, leaving his finger inside of her, but lifting his head enough to get some sense of how she might look, if only he could see her clearly. He could feel the tremors jerking through her muscles, the twisting, tensing clench of her vagina around his finger. Panting, he tried to see more, staying close enough that she could rub against him for as long as she needed. It lasted, longer than he'd thought, and even through his own rushing feelings Foreman couldn't help feeling a deep, satisfying pride that he'd done that, that he'd left her helpless. It was overwhelmed a second later by his realization: helpless. Amber. She'd been willing to let go that much, let him take her that far.

God. He didn't have to see her to know how beautiful she was--messy and sweaty and shaking, yeah, and his, all his. Foreman ran his forearm across his face, wiping himself off as best he could, and then he moved up the bed. He couldn't have stopped himself. It wasn't even because he wanted, needed to come--for the instant, his body was his last concern. He wanted to cover Amber, hold her, share his warmth, and keep this feeling going for as long as possible. He let his weight settle on her, his cock trapped between them, and hugged her as well as he could, kissing her lightly where he could reach. He gulped back his breath, trying not to pant too heavily right in her face, and finally he buried his face in the crook of her neck, so that he could force his breathing to calm down without making Amber feel like she had to do something for him--at this point, Foreman wouldn't ask for more if she couldn't take it; he'd bring himself off with all the satisfaction in the world, because he'd already been with her in the moment that mattered.

Amber let herself fall onto down to the bed as Eric tugged, curling up around him. Let him kiss her, hold her, shower her with affection. The most she could do was nudge Eric, rubbing her cheek against his, and hum with satisfaction. He was-- still no words. All Amber knew was that she leaned into him, wanting to be nowhere else.

God, she was exhausted, practically numb from ecstasy. Every once in a while a new aftershock washed over her, and she shivered, sensitive, unable to stop her body from singing so much joy.

Still. Despite her haze, his hard, thick erection hadn't escaped her attention. It seemed so distant, hardly related to her, throbbing hot against someone else, though some part of Amber knew that he must be aching with desire and that it was because of her. She blinked, slowly, pupils immense, slowly working through a thought process. He was hard. He wouldn't want to stay that way. Warmth tinged through Amber, making its way past the fog she was traveling through. She could help him with that. Could coax him into her, into coming. Maybe she was too sensitive for that. Just his body around hers, their sweat-- when had they built up so much, they were sliding against one another-- felt like an overkill. Amber rolled her head to the side, breathing shallow, but deep.

Still. She wanted him inside her, wanted him to feel pleasure from her, to feel every inch of him losing control, to know inside and out how his orgasm was. To know how good she made him feel. It’d make her happy, that she could return the favor. Her hips rose, not as another aftershock of the orgasm, but as an encouragement. She wouldn't come again, not any time soon, but she still wanted more. "The condoms," Amber whispered, lazily, somehow finding the strength to cup his face again. "They're in the bed stand, top drawer--"

Taking advantage of the natural lube their bodies had provided, Amber twisted so that her back was to him for the second time this evening. Earlier, it had been to hide her vulnerability; now, it was because on her side, with him aligned against her back, there'd be less stimulation to where she felt sore. Amber's breath quickened in anticipation; sucked on her lip in anticipation. Wriggled and bent her upper leg forward to give him the space to enter. To invite him.

Getting himself under control was no easy task. Amber kissed him back, and shivered under him. Even that tiny amount of friction brought his erection back to his attention, made Foreman want to thrust against her stomach, let his pleasure build that way.

His heart nearly stopped when Amber offered more. Foreman wanted to ask you sure? but Amber wouldn't say it if she didn't mean it. Her hand brushing his cheek was an assurance, a promise. "Yeah. Okay." He rolled off her, to his back. Cold air swept down his chest as soon as he lost contact with Amber. It wasn't his room, and he was unfamiliar with the furniture, but his groping hand finally knocked against the bed stand. He found the drawer, jerking it open at last, and fumbled inside. The condoms were in a box, which Foreman tore in his hurry.

He hated the awkwardness of the condoms--ripping a packet open in the darkness, tossing the foil away where it wouldn't get lost in the sheets, and then rolling the latex over his erection. Fuck. They were both doctors, it wasn't like they couldn't get tested and Amber could get a prescription for the pill, and then they could skip this step entirely. He'd think about it. Ask her. Later, when he was capable of rational thought. He'd already been rubbing against Amber's stomach, and between the two of them, there'd been more than enough sweat to ease the condom on without chafing. His own hand squeezing his dick was such a relief, pressure giving way to pleasure, and the anticipation that soon he'd have more only made it better.

When he rolled back again, to find Amber, he realized that she'd turned on her side as well. Foreman ran his hand from Amber's ass to the back of her knee. With her leg bent, all Foreman had to do was lean in, close. Holding himself, he guided the tip of his erection against her--still so wet; he let out a huff of air, gulped for another breath--and then, pushing slowly, entered her. "Oh God. Yeah." Foreman pressed his lips against Amber's shoulder, his chest expanding with each panting breath. "Amber, God, you feel so good." He took his time, and it felt like forever until he'd worked his way in fully. He slung an arm over her, around her stomach, and pulled her closer, onto his dick. Beginning to ease into a slow, stroking rhythm. Shuddering as the feelings swam through his nervous system like fire. Amber was tight around him, and even through the latex Foreman could feel each pulse of aftershock from her orgasm. He knew she was sensitive, that she'd already been overwhelmed by sensation. It was impossible to imagine giving this up: all the heat, clamping down on his dick and sending throbs of pleasure through his whole body. He'd have to, though. Be ready to, at least. His voice strained, desperate, he whispered, "Tell me. If it's--nhh. Too much."

Another shiver as Eric felt up the back of her thigh-- oh, god, he had no idea what he was doing to her, did he-- and one more held breath as he oh so meticulously penetrated her. Amber's vagina expanded, stretching to fit him. Even though Eric had opened her up earlier, teasing her with those three thrusting fingers, Amber felt narrow, like she was closing up from all the stimulation. And, damn, that latex, it-- she'd never fucked without it, didn't know how else a dick could feel inside her, but she suddenly wished she could have that real contact. His dick direct in her vagina. Maybe there'd be more texture, less gloss. Maybe hotter, too. At any rate, the fact that she was soaking, sopping wet made him gliding in easier, though she wish he hadn't drawn out that first entry so much. She smiled when he breathed out her name, going on about how good she felt. Yeah, that's what she wanted to hear. "I'm glad, baby," she murmured, claiming the term without even realizing it.

It was already too much. Amber held back her gasps, shaking with each impulse of Eric's entrance, exit. But near-pain or no, she wasn't going to give this up. This felt good, too, in its own way. The satisfaction of pleasuring him even when she felt ready to drift off into an eternal sleep. Amber didn't care how rubbed raw she was, she wanted Eric to come inside her. Because he was hers. She was marking her territory, claiming him for herself, even if she'd have laughed incredulously, at herself, for thinking so. It was illogical, but she felt it. "Keep going," she gasped, and ground her hips weakly, to prove her point. Clenched her hand over his, pulling both into her stomach; entwined their fingers and squeezed, anchoring herself on that hold. Delivered herself to another timelessness, now punctuated by Eric's obscene sounds, the shuddering of his body behind hers, the direction of his penis as he drove into her. Rocked back, encouraging him to pick up the speed.

Foreman didn't miss Amber calling him baby. His breath rushed out, and his next kiss to her shoulder hid a grin. Felt good to hear it. Even better to know it. He increased the pace, letting his body and his pleasure dictate how fast he went, how much he demanded of Amber. He hadn't missed the way she thrust back into him, either--encouraging him, but not with the same easy need as when she'd been working toward her own climax. She was doing it for him.

Both times she'd given him everything, like a gift. Didn't ask him to restrain himself. Demanded, instead, that he lose himself in his own pleasure, first when she'd sucked him off, deep and hard, without once trying to pull away; and now, telling him to keep going even when it couldn't be as good for her. Foreman shuddered again and relaxed. He wasn't going to hold back, but he didn't need to go fast either. He'd already come hard once this evening. This time, he felt warmer and relaxed, glad of Amber's closeness. Each thrust was like another wave against a dam, the tide rising. There didn't seem to be any separation between the growing heat in his groin and the moment when the dam burst. His orgasm was a long, amazing release. Any tension, any energy he'd had left, rushed out of him like the ocean retreating. Foreman moved with it, panting, trembling, enjoying. When he finally stilled, he felt too shaken to even pull out at first. Utterly limp with relaxation, eyelids drooping, mouth slack on Amber's shoulder.

He moved at last, a groan spilling out of him as he disengaged from her, and slipped the condom off his penis. There were tissues on the bed stand. Foreman forced himself not to give in to his own delicious exhaustion until he'd wrapped the condom in a few tissues and dropped it over the side of the bed. Hopefully he'd remember it before he stepped on it. At this point, he couldn't even imagine caring. All he wanted was to wrap himself around Amber and fall asleep. Foreman nuzzled up close behind her, mirroring their position of a moment ago, and draped his arm over her, letting out a sigh as he relaxed completely.

Amber was only sorry that she wasn't more conscious for this moment; if she were fully alert, aware of each electrifying, pounding detail, this would have been amazing. Would've treasured for long afterward the memory, reliving each sensation. As it was, she let herself tune out, shelling into herself. She must be really out of it, because she couldn't even tell when Eric came; didn't notice when his thrusts ebbed into rolls, when his hardness softened. Did notice when he stilled; turned her face to press her open, slack lips against his head. Couldn't even tell what part she was touching. That one action took everything that was left in her, and Amber's head fell against the pillow. Her whole body gave in, sagging against the mattress, finally accepting rest. By the time Eric hugged her again, she was fast asleep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

October 30, 2007 - Evening

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