alwaysright | November 3, 2007

November 3, 2007 - Morning

Foreman had been right about one thing: when he finally woke up, his whole body felt like he'd run a fucking triathlon the night before. He opened his eyes slowly, a smile already curving his lips. Saturday. No work, no obligations. Last weekend he'd thought that he'd fucked up completely with Amber. This morning, here he was, grinning half into his pillow at the sight of her hair, tangled and fanned out across the sheets. So he hurt; that was no different than the morning after a lot of workouts. Some stretching and he'd be fine. If that was the only price he'd pay for last night, he'd always choose to do it again.

They'd finally made it out of the bath when the water was cooling. Fingers and toes pruned, shivering because they'd both fallen asleep, towelling off vigourously to warm up again. Foreman hadn't bothered waking up beyond the most basic functions. He'd gotten his teeth brushed, pissed, hauled his boxers on, and fallen into Amber's bed all without engaging any higher mental faculties. He didn't even remember falling asleep.

Looked like he was the first one to wake up this morning. Usually his body woke him up after eight hours whether he needed more or not. Affection poured through him at the sight of Amber, still sleeping. This way he could admire her before she realized that her hair wasn't in place, and it made the feeling sweeter, somehow, that she didn't know. To let her sleep herself out, Foreman tried to keep himself quiet as he climbed out of bed. He eased out of the bedroom after he'd hauled his trousers and hoodie on. Amber's keys were next to her purse, near the door, and Foreman ducked out for a quick, shivering trip to his car. He came back in with the bag he'd packed yesterday without running into Murphy or any of the other tenants, thank Christ. It didn't take him long to sort out things that he could leave here--deodorant, shaving stuff, cologne, toothbrush--along with a few clothes, more comfortable stuff so that he wouldn't be limited to suits on the weekend.

He showered about as quickly as he would on a weekday, not lingering once he'd gotten clean. He dressed in a pair of battered jeans and a clean sweater, before heading for the kitchen.

He wasn't a great cook, which Amber knew by now. When he was a kid, Mom had let him and Marcus into the kitchen for baking only--to lick icing off the spoons, or to dump too much flour in the bowl, making a mess with the ingredients and then burning his tongue crunching through the resulting--usually rock hard--cookies or cakes. But she'd also considered the kitchen more or less her domain, and she'd swatted their rumps with a dishtowel if they'd gotten in her way when she was cooking the big meals. Not that it was her fault he'd never learned. If he'd ever shown a real interest, rather than sprinting through and grabbing at whatever was sitting out to stuff into his face while Mom was in the middle of preparations, she probably would have taught him. He'd been an ungrateful teenager, he'd expected his meals to be ready for him, and he hadn't paid much attention except when they weren't. What he did know, he knew from disastrous experiments when he was in college, and certainly Claire had never stooped to cooking for him when they both had the same punishing hours at the hospital.

But there was one dish that he was terrific at. It was Claire who'd taught it to him, actually, after he'd complimented her effusively one too many times and given her his best wide-eyed, hopeful look when it seemed like she might be about to make breakfast. Denver omelette, egg whites only since he was trying to keep himself in weight training trim. He'd seen all the ingredients he needed in Amber's fridge last night. Peppers, onions, even some bacon. Cheese, maybe. He'd have to check. He could even set the table this morning since he'd reuse the clean dishes from dinner last night. It wasn't that he always expected to cook, but in this one case, he knew what he was doing, and damn, he already knew Amber could be astonishingly grateful for a simple meal. The omelette, maybe some toast, and fresh coffee--God, who knew how she'd want to thank him next? Grinning, Foreman set to work, far more confident than he'd been about the stir fry.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Talk about patronizing. Amber forced herself to unclench her teeth; pride mattered less than the chance to improve herself enough to regain it. "If you're willing to teach me how to kick your ass up and down the court, school me all you want." She'd listen to Eric's advice. She'd let him train her, smug and gloating because he knew oh so much more. But more importantly, she was going to practice on her own. Find other players, hone her skills til they were sharp as Eric's; she could beat him in a real game, without the cheating. Amber knew she could.

That'd mean time, of course. Weeks, at least. Probably months. Eric was more than just a bit better; he was in a whole other league. Wishing to have more endurance, to be more agile, wouldn't make her so. It'd take work. To take up a project like that-- it meant a few assumptions about the longevity of their relationship. Well. Even if they broke up before she could beat him, she'd still be better at playing ball. Wasn’t likely to, but that could come in handy elsewhere.

But Amber didn't reveal her thoughts. Unlike Eric, who was sputtering behind her, she could be subtle. Her stomach rippled with silent laughter as she straightened up; she hadn't meant to provoke a reaction and yet she had. Turning, Amber couldn't have hidden a smile even if she'd wanted. Eric was significantly wetter and more naked: just as she preferred him. His torso gleamed in the gym’s bright lights and the tiny shirt over his shoulder made his chest seem wider. Watching him now, sleek and self-possessed, gave his movements a whole new meaning. Amber had, from the very night they’d met, the pleasure to know just how much physical competence he had to back his confidence up with. He’d been cocky, but there was no denying that he knew how to touch her, how to use his body to turn her on. But having seen him in action in this game against her, her appreciation from now on might be mixed with a dash of resentment. It’d be hard to forgive him besting her—no, impossible to forgive herself. Amber couldn’t abide by being the lesser of the two.

"Don’t push your luck," she scolded, but her tone was mostly gracious. Inside Amber may be rioting for having let herself down, but she wouldn't betray her disappointment any further. Starting the walk out of the courts, she asked, "Do they sell food here? Or do you know a better place?" Amber normally didn't go out for lunch. If she'd had a strong preference, she'd have already insisted on her way, but since she didn't, she was curious to hear Eric's suggestions.

Ball tucked under one arm, water bottle in hand, Foreman headed off the court with Amber. Tempted as he was to fall back a few steps and continue teasing himself, he figured that the ogling would get old fast if he overdid it. Amber wanted to know that she was attractive, but Foreman wasn't going to act like an asshole while he was letting her know. Her immediate smile, when she'd turned and seen him shirtless, was more than enough for them to confirm to each other that they had no problem in that part of their relationship. Amber might have expected him to kiss her this morning, but it'd been so much better with the energy of the game prompting them. Even if it was so that she could steal a point. He'd won in the end, so that didn't matter.

"There's a good sandwich place a few blocks from here," he said, generally agreeing to drop the subject of the game. If Amber wouldn't be happy until she'd beaten him at something, he'd let her figure out what that was and when it would happen. Lunch, even though he'd had a filling breakfast, was starting to take up his attention. Casual was all he wanted, and nothing too filling. "They have good coffee, too."

He brought out the swipe card from his pocket when they reached the change room. Tossing his t-shirt at the bench, he sat down to take his shoes and socks off, and ripped off his warm-up pants. The air felt good, evaporating his sweat. Although he'd managed to keep himself under control for the length of the game, the fact that there was no a closed and locked door between them and the rest of the gym's patrons--not to mention how damn hot Amber had been the entire morning, and that last appreciative smile she'd given him back on the courts--even though he'd just gotten his breathing back under his control, the flutter of desire he felt in his stomach brought back the rush he'd never completely let go of. The shower was a tiny cubicle, not really meant for two people, but...Foreman grinned to himself and stood up, hooking his thumbs under his shorts' waistband and dropping them to the floor. Sauntering across the room, he turned the hot tap on and stepped inside, looking back at Amber for a second before he shut the door. "Consider this a horndog invitation," he said, with an enticing smirk.

Amber nodded. "Sandwiches and coffee it'll be." She didn't care how or where they ate, as long as they did. After this workout, she'd need both something nutritious and a caffeine rush. If it weren't for coffee, she'd have flunked out of med school or failed as a doctor; needed it just as much as water or blood.

Walking through the corridor was a brief and much-needed cool down. Her heart rate lowered and if her perspiration didn't dry off, at least she wasn't producing more of it. Even the tremors died away. Amber still felt ready for more, to burst out into a run until her legs couldn't stand it, to push her muscles to their limit. Beneath it all resentment simmered. She'd lost. That was the cold reality. Amber was a loser. Every time that word floated in her mind, her fist itched to punch a wall. Didn't matter that Eric had the advantage, being a basketball-loving freak; her tactics should've been enough to overcome that. She'd failed. Unacceptable.

In the changing room, Amber hastily removed her sneakers and socks and peeled off her sweat-soaked pants; her skin breathed more easily. Tore off her sports bra, too. Freeing herself of the tight clothing only made her want to stretch; she did so, forming an oval with her arms as they reached towards the ceiling. Then back down to touch the ground, elongating her spine, her trapezius. She moaned; that hit the spot.

Eric had shed his clothing far faster than her and was already turning the shower on. Her ponytail brushed against her face as she came back up to listen to him and properly see his invitation of a smile. God, of course he'd want some, he'd just won. (Over her.) Frankly, Amber was half-surprised he hadn't sported an erection during the game itself, he'd been treating it so much as foreplay.

Amber wasn't as in the mood as she'd have been as, say, this morning, when she'd woken up expecting a snuggle, or when they'd wrestled in bed. But she had been straining for more exertion. Might be interesting, fucking here, a semi-public shower. All the other gym patrons just outside, she'd hear them. Nobody would know, sadly, what was going on in here-- unless they "accidentally" got loud.

That was all reason enough to slip into her flip-flops and stalk towards the shower. But the strongest one of all was the possibility of releasing her anger. Maybe Eric could shoot hoops faster and better, but she always took the lead in their sexy life. It'd be a small compensation in the face of greater bitterness.

"That is the saddest horndog move I have ever seen," Amber declared, yanking the shower door open and shutting it once she'd stepped inside. There was barely enough room for them, so already they were as close as two bodies could get without touching. "Seriously. You're a guy. You just closed the door on me! Can't you do better than that? Or do I have to ‘school’ you?" Amber took hold of his two hands and pulled them back, making them mold her ass. In the process, their hips came up together. His back blocked all the water, but that was hardly important. "This is how you do horndog. See the difference?"

The water was as hot as Foreman liked it for all of two seconds, then it settled down into the gym's usual version of warm. The change room might be private, but that didn't do anything for the plumbing. Foreman rubbed his hands over his face, letting the temperature difference between his body and the water bring up shivers, and then Amber yanked the door open. He chuckled, turning to face her in the tight confined space. "It got you here, didn't it?" He hadn't been about to risk rejection if she was still feeling pissy about the damn game.

Completely willingly, he cupped her ass, jerking her closer against him. The water spilled down his shoulders, then between them, until their bodies were slick and hot, and every breath brought delicious friction. He might not have a hard-on yet, but Christ, it was going to take no time at all; he'd already been working on talking himself out of an erection. No more need to control himself. She felt so damn good, and he still had visions of the game playing through his mind. How proud she'd been, how intent, and--his fingers squeezed--exactly what she'd looked like in her yoga pants and the bright red sports bra.

Foreman leaned in, kissing Amber's jaw, and then contorting as best he could to suck at the sweat on her throat. Oh, yeah. The taste, the scent, the firm feel of her ass under his fingers--fuck, his arousal was already shooting through the roof. Didn't need kissing or rolling around in bed when he'd had her teasing him for the last half-hour. He nipped at Amber's collarbone, then the nape of her neck, letting her feel his teeth. "School me," he suggested, already starting to breathe harder. "Bet I can learn."

One thing Amber could definitely appreciate, pissed off or not, was his desire. Growled at how possessively he grabbed her, at the demand in his nibbles. Yeah, he wanted her. Couldn't hide it, his dick getting hard right against her. She felt every bit of him filling out, growing for want of her. And god, so greedy, taking, insisting.

Amber shoved him up against the wall, the lukewarm water now pouring over her neck, streaming down her back. "You're getting better," she said, strict like a teacher with the highest expectations. Stared deep into his dark brown eyes as a confrontation. "Lesson one: don't ask." Proving her words, Amber covered his mouth with hers, hard and hot as if to let no air escape between them. Ran her hands up from his waist to his water-and-sweat slick chest, stopping to squeeze him beneath his pits. Maybe he was ready to go, but she hadn't spent most of the game holding back dirty thoughts. She needed to get into this. So she kissed; lapped at his tongue, reminding herself just how much she loved his taste. Sucked his lower lip, reveling in how satisfying its fullness felt between hers.

Head spinning way more satisfactorily than a minute ago, Amber pulled away, a satisfied grin wide across her face. This she was good at. "You take. See what I mean?" Rolled her hips against his, purposefully rubbing against his cock. Let him feel that, lose himself with horniness. This could easily go wrong; she was still working up arousal, and she never did like it when Eric stepped out of pace from her. What he wanted—would try to take—could very well be what she wasn’t ready for. But she couldn’t resist. Loved making him forget all those rules he’d trained himself into about how to properly fuck a woman to satisfy her and just act, really giving in to his urges. And Amber knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that if he tried anything she wasn’t comfortable with, she could easily guide him in another direction. “Show me. Whaddya wanna take?”

Foreman grunted when Amber shoved him back. The tiled wall of the shower was cooler than the water, chilly against his back, but it warmed quickly. Don't ask, yeah, he'd heard that advice before. Hadn't exactly served him well, had gotten him fired in fact, even if it had saved lives. But that thought was easy to banish. He didn't care about work or about House's expectations, not when Amber was goading him. Kissing him. Foreman surged forward, licking his way into her mouth, panting and assertive, if that's what she wanted so much. She tasted fresh and hot, and Foreman's urgency only increased as she sucked his lip into her mouth. Amber could set off fireworks in him with nothing more than a simple kiss. Tingling with energy and anticipation, Foreman groaned in earnest when she rubbed against his cock. He was half-hard just from thinking about her, and if she kept up that rolling, eager pressure, he'd be ready far too soon.

He wanted to take--everything. "Yeah," he answered, trying to figure out the fucking logistics of having sex in a tiny shower. He wanted her, every part of her that he'd had to pretend to have a purely sportsmanlike interest in. He just couldn't reach. "You," he said, and getting his hands underneath her thighs, he hoisted her up. Amber's back against the wall of the shower, his arms under her ass, her mons pressed against his stomach, and even her feet pressing against the opposite side of the cubicle, all made it simple to hold her there. Foreman could tilt his head back and kiss her, and now there was all the scope he needed to taste her. Everywhere. Mouth hot on her collarbones, then down the center of her chest. He flicked a teasing glance up at her before he bent to test the curve of her breast with his tongue. He didn't suck right away, but scraped his beard across her nipple, watching for Amber's reaction, before he settled in to tease her thoroughly. Licking, sucking, biting gently, moving from one breast to the other, all while his fingers massaged her ass, and started moving lower.

So hard already, yeah. She loved that about him, how his dick practically sprang to attention, ready at a moment's notice. If Amber had started rocking against him to provoke him, now it was for herself, eyes lidded, needing to watch. Feeling Eric's erection rise against her tummy wasn't enough. Wanted to taste, fill her mouth. It’d feel so good, him around her lips, his groans echoing in the stall, her ears.

He had his own ideas, though, ones she'd prodded him into indulging. The cold, smooth plastic door rubbed against her spine as he lifted her-- show off, but sexy-- and for a second Amber hoped it'd withstand whatever they tried to put it through. And then such practical matters fled her mind as her sandaled feet pushed against the back wall, attention focused on what he'd do next. Drops splattered onto her thighs, the back of her ponytail pressed into her head, but all Amber knew were her whole-body tingles to have her legs around his waist, her groin flush up his stomach. Like this, limbs dedicated to supporting herself, all she could do was accept whatever he chose to do with her-- which was fine so far because she fucking loved what he was doing.

"Oh, yeah." Amber's hips bucked, suddenly exploding with arousal. Jesus, what he'd wanted was to touch her, doing all the things that turned her on-- that was so fucking hot. It blew her mind; rationalizations and justifications melted away. "God, yeah, that," she went on, not thinking, just wanting him to know that she one-hundred percent approved. This had to be why beards existed. And teeth. And lips. God. Everything he did to her breasts sent out wave after wave of pleasure to the rest of her, like water filling a vase. Amber squirmed, panting, feeling so much but unable to release any of it by action. It was both agonizing and delicious, only receiving. The most she could was speak. "You like that, doncha," she whispered. "Touching me, you can't get enough--" She stopped there, overcome by a shiver of anticipation; she knew where his fingers were likely headed.

It was absolutely graceless, having Amber up against the shower wall. They were both wet, slippery, and as Foreman started to touch her, Amber arched in his arms, sharp movements that he couldn't predict and only wanted to provoke again, trying to find the exact touch that had set her off, over and over again. His arms under her thighs were enough to steady her for now, but he wanted more room. Curving his hand, he was only just able to touch the entrance of her vagina, fingertips teasing along her labia, shallow and not nearly enough. After he'd lifted her, he lost the friction against his cock, leaving him frustrated, half-aroused, getting nowhere.

He hadn't thought this position through, and the more Amber squirmed, slick and restless, the less Foreman thought he'd be able to hold her up for long. His arms were tired, from the game and from his struggle against the cuffs last night. This wasn't going to last. But it was so good as long as it did. Amber was breathless, eager, her words spurring him forward as much as the sight of a drop of water sliding over her breast to gather on the tip of her nipple, until he couldn't hold back from tasting it. Slow, lingering. Gentle, and then a sudden hard suck. She was right--he couldn't get enough. Foreman licked a long swipe up her chest again, to her throat. God, he wanted to kiss her. "Yeah," he said, roughly, hoarse. "I want you, wanna see you--" Her long neck as she arched back, the sight of the flush on her skin, her nipples tightening; her arms and legs wrapped around him, God, he loved seeing all of it. Made the pleasure when he was inside her rise even higher, sharper.

If he let her slip down, slow, onto his cock--he wasn't quite there yet, but it wouldn't take long--Christ. No fucking condom. He wasn't going to forget that again anytime soon. Foreman groaned in frustration. He lowered his arms, letting her find her footing. He didn't have the damn brain cells to tell her the problem--think about it later--for now, he kissed her again, firmly, and let his palm slide up from her hips, fingers slipping through her pubic hair to touch her, softly, but fully.

It wouldn't last. His grip was giving way-- at last Eric revealed he was no Hercules, but he could've had better timing-- and Amber's back scratched and burned as she slipped down the door. Hardly seemed to matter, though. Amber was wet, outside and in, becoming more so at the hint of his touch at her entrance. That won a full-body jerk, trying to get more, only making her fall further.

He didn't go through with the promise, focusing more on her breasts. Well. Amber supposed that was acceptable, for now. Gasped as he sucked, the sound tapering off into a light moan as he kept at it, kissing, licking, eager as if it were for him. No wonder they were a match, if their wants and needs overlapped so conveniently.

No surprise when Eric lowered her for good; Amber's feet slid down til they met ground again, legs straightening to come face to face with him. Was the most natural thing in the world to kiss him, open-mouthed, slow, tongue melding against tongue. Amber watched him through lidded eyes, heart thudding because she felt so good, loved touching him so much. His family, the basketball game, they barely crossed her mind; how could they matter, when giving herself to pleasure was so much better than lingering over nasty thoughts. This was why they were together.

Eric was so focused, like he dedicated all his mental facilities to touching her. She loved that too. Loved the attention, his intensity. "Deeper," she said, breathing shallow. Amber wanted to see his finger disappear into her, god, almost as much as she wanted to feel it. Couldn't kiss him now, it'd block the view.

Didn't mean she was helpless, though. Back on her feet, she had full mobility. Choices. First thing was to lean over and quickly turn off the water growing increasingly cold. Rivulets streaming over half her body, her hair mostly damp, it'd be chilly, but the gym's heating would take care of them. And they could heat each other up. Lips parting, Amber then traced her fingers over his sternum-- she hadn't forgotten--starting out light, increasing the pressure as she lowered her hand. Followed a straight line down his abdomen and soon all she had to do was turn her wrist to lightly wrap her hand around his dick. Squeezed her fingers one by one, in sequence. So thick, so long. There was still enough shower water to rub him teasingly, enough to make him growl and fuck her hand and beg for more. "Something in your pocket?" she asked, smiling. “Or happy to see me?”

"Always. Happy to see you." Before Amber, Foreman never would have thought seriously about fucking in the shower at the gym. Fantasized about, maybe. The place had plenty of women who'd make more than adequate visual material if he was beating off. But actually being with someone, like the gym employees didn't have a key to the room--throwing caution to the winds, and pursuing Amber, and his own pleasure, simply because he wanted her so damn badly, needed her now, he'd never done anything like this before her. The restaurant, when she'd turned him on so much right at their table, had felt mortifying, but he'd come so hard in the bathroom, fucking Amber up against the door. That same excitement, the shivering tautness of knowing they could get caught, drove him now.

Slowly, feeling his way while he kissed Amber deeply, Foreman slid his middle finger deeper, until he was completely inside her. He explored, rubbing her firmly and inexorably, more massage than thrusting. Amber was wet, and knowing how much she was turned on made the feel of her fingers wrapped around his growing erection even sweeter. The kiss ended when he had to breathe, and Foreman let his head fall forward, so that he could watch. Her hand, working over his cock, was so fucking hot to see--to feel. "You know--you know how hot you were--" That wouldn't stop her from wanting to hear it, smug as a cat, eyes narrow and pleased as he started to rock into the friction of her hand. "Uh. Wanted to. Fuck you in the gym. You'd've--liked that--all of them watching--" Now that there was no possibility of a real audience, the idea didn't piss him off half as much. Instead, the power of it made him shudder. Showing those jackoffs that Amber was his, that she'd let him touch her, that she might have lowered herself down to her knees and watched him in amusement as she slipped her lips around his cock, hard and straining-- "Ohh. There, just--yeah, harder..."

Everything he felt, he wanted her to have. His fingers were already slick, and he spread her wetness along her labia. He let his forefinger join his middle finger inside Amber, and pressed his thumb over the hood of her clit. Pressure, moving only as much as the push of his fingers inside her allowed, echoing the pulsing rhythm of her muscles. "Amber," he whispered. His voice echoed in the shower cubicle now that the water wasn't spraying around them. The growing heat in his groin, the lingering strokes of her hand, was bringing him fully erect, pleasure burning along his nerves. But Amber--she'd been so sensitive before, telling him to back off when he went down on her, and last night she'd fucked him so hard. He wouldn't be surprised if she was more sensitive today, after that. "That good, honey? You want more?"

Amber squirmed slightly as Eric's finger delved deeper; felt good, she wanted more, but it was awkward too. The angle wasn't quite right and the way he was doing it, slow, circular, felt more like an examination than an attempt to turn her on. And why did he have to bring up the basketball game? She'd almost forgotten it and her wretched defeat. Amber's grip slackened then tightened excessively to compensate for that slip; well, he had asked for harder.

Settling for a pressure between the two extremes, Amber pressed her thumb into the under part of his shaft, rubbing the firm and yet oh so sensitive flesh just beneath his head. "Yeah," Amber breathed into his ear, closing her eyes, imagining. Wouldn't have been the right moment to fuck, she was too busy trying to win, but that aside, it'd be amazing to have that kind of audience. And she liked hearing her proud and shy Eric fantasizing people watching them. "Want everyone to know--" Paused to suck his earlobe, lick his jaw beneath. "How hot we are, make them all jealous-- ahh--"

She had to tilt her head back, drive her hips up. He wasn't exploring no more, stroking now, inside and over her clit. Amber stood on her toes, digging her shoulder blades into the door as she arched for more of that pressure. "S'good," she let out. "Real good." It took every ounce of concentration to not simply give in to the jolts of pleasure his every thumb flick brought, to not release herself to abandon. Forced herself to focus through the haze and fist his erection, to curve her other hand around him and down his ass crack. Still. Really hard to keep at it. Amber was burning up, from Eric's warmth and her own growing heat. Had practically forgotten they were in a shower, despite the wet strands against her neck, the hint of soap and mildew. Eric's scent was so much stronger, and he was all she could see, hear, feel. "Annh."

A short, sharp moan spilled out when Amber tightened her hand. Foreman jerked against her, pushing up, but by then she'd already relaxed her grip, and went back to the even, thumbing strokes. He panted shortly, trying to surge closer to her, taking everything she'd offer. She was making him feel so good, he was losing track of where he was, why it mattered. Bare feet slipped against the floor of the shower as he thrust his hips forward. He dropped kisses everywhere he could reach--close to Amber's mouth, on the point of her chin, against the damp hair at her temple as she suckled his earlobe.

He never let himself lose track of what he was giving her in return, no matter that his knees were turning to jelly under her ministrations. Amber cried out, and if it was possible, she seemed even hotter around his fingers. Foreman quickened his pace, not slamming in, but just enough to give her a rhythm to work against. As much as he could, he circled his thumb over her clit, feeling its hardness nestled in the slippery, swollen folds of her labia. Moving the pad of his thumb over it, back and forth, he let himself focus on the damn image. "They were staring, bet you left them with hard-ons." He had no intention of ever letting this kind of thing happen, but from the way Amber had started moving, moaning, giving herself over more to how she felt when he'd mentioned it, Foreman couldn't make himself hold back. Too bad for them. Mine. To touch, however he wanted. Foreman's free hand wandered over her body, stroking where the water drops had left her warm and wet, over her belly, up to her breasts to pinch her nipples again, then cupping her head to draw her into a long kiss.

Her fingers, whispering down over his ass, made him remember what else Amber could do--how much she could make him feel. A burning blush suffused his face, and his chest tightened before Foreman could speak. "It's, uh. Okay, if you want to touch me..." Jesus, he really was asking for it, not that they had any lube for her to finger him like she had that first night, but he wasn't going to deny wanting it. He'd learned his lesson, and she could touch him any damn way she wanted. All of it was good. She could drive him out of his mind if she had the slightest wish to, and she probably did. He trusted her.

God. Amber's eyes flew open, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensation, muscles spasming. Her cry became a continuous whimper, needing more, jerking her hips into Eric's increasingly strong touch, just a bit more; the way he pressed into her clit, god, it consumed her, and his stroking inside her to a rhythm, it was almost too much, but for a short while it'd get her over. Her calves strained as she went up higher and higher on tiptoe, back arching; would’ve called out his name, but it was too many damn syllables, the best she could do was “Euhh—“ There were obscenities in her ear, visions of so many people wanting to fuck her, and the only one who mattered here with her, palpable, groaning out her fantasies because he knew she loved it, and relentlessly fucking her, oh god. Amber drowned in his kiss, sucking his tongue back hard, taking what she needed; wished he hadn't drawn his hand away from her breast but anyway it'd have been redundant because already she was shuddering, head twisting helplessly to the side, her own hands jolting up to his shoulders, needing to hold on as she ground herself against him, increasing the pressure and speed. His hand crunched between them, his dick got caught between their abdomens; wasn’t quite ideal, but what did Amber care, she was coming, a hot rush burning up all her nerves, over and over; so good, so damn fucking good.

It left her trembling, shaky on her legs. Didn't quite remember it was because she'd already overexerted herself, running herself to exhaustion on the court. Didn't matter. Felt too damn good. The surges of pleasure died down too quickly, becoming longer yet less intense, but she still twinged along to them, taking in sharp breaths with every sudden motion. Towards the end Amber opened her eyes, smiling at Eric, feeling light and free and perfect, like the end of an accomplished day. Kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek. “Yeah,” she said, drifting into laziness, “I’m never giving up the sex.” Kissed his lips now, softly, with all the tenderness inside her. Filled her arms with him, wrapping round his biceps. Sex with Eric was so incredibly different. The mechanics were the same, but she’d never felt so safe afterward, wanting what came even after the orgasm. And he knew what to do with her, what drove her over the edge. Jesus. He made her so happy. “You’re amazing.”

Eric’s stuttering mention that she could touch him, if she wanted, came back to her. Amber chuckled. Sure, they could make it about her, if that made him feel better. Lips making a wet sound as she kissed him long and sensually, Amber’s fingers danced down his spine, back into his crack; brushed over his anus gently. “I’ve got lotion in my bag.” Condoms, too, but it was starting to look like they might not need any. Her left hand journeyed down his side, squeezing as it went, to nestle in his pubic hairs and cup his balls. “Sound good to you?” She’d loved taking her time, as she could now that she’d come, torturing Eric with pleasure. Loved the fact that he wanted her to penetrate him again; it made her feel proud, that she’d made him crave what had frightened him so much.

Amber's desperate kiss brought out a low, rumbling moan from deep in his chest. Foreman circled his thumb faster, his chest heaving as he studied every sign crossing Amber's face, the pleasure bringing short, needy cries to her lips and flickering through her eyes. "Yeah, feel that?" Foreman whispered. "They want you, can't have you, you're coming for me--" He shuddered as he felt Amber's body tense and arc into his fingers, as if completely in response to his words. Foreman kept going, kissing her, touching her, the tip of his cock rubbing against her belly to the same beat as his fingers inside her. The fantasy disappeared into the gorgeous reality. Amber surging against him, again and again, her hand slipping away from his cock but it didn't matter when he could feel the quiver of her orgasm around his fingers?

He chuckled softly--no one had ever asked her to give up the sex, least of all him. "Don't think that's gonna happen," he said. His body warmed again at her compliment, and although they'd reached a lull, with him swaying against her just enough to keep up the friction that was keeping him hard and wanting, Foreman couldn't help the sharp spike of pride and pleasure that came from his smugness, his tenderness, over making Amber feel so much. She might think he was amazing, but she hadn't seen herself, how beautiful she was, open and vulnerable and trembling with every sensation.

Amber was satiated, kissing slowly. Foreman's quick breathing left him dizzy after the long kisses, but he couldn't give up being so close to her, even if it meant panting against her lips between sliding his tongue deeper into her mouth, driving the heat in his body higher. He didn't know if it sounded good to him, only that he was getting more impatient. She'd stopped stroking his cock, and all he had now was the soft press of her stomach. "Mmn," he said, hands smoothing down her sides. Christ, his heart felt like a snare drum more than a vital organ. Uncertainty squeezed his lungs, and all he got out was "Uh--" Amber's palm cupped his balls, and Foreman's breath shot out in a shaky exhale. "Y-yeah."

He hadn't been thinking about it, hadn't been wanting it. Just--he thought Amber had been, from the way she'd squeezed his ass. Once she'd spoken, it seemed immediate, inevitable. On some level, Foreman remembered the sensation, the uncomfortable intrusion giving way to something deeper and amazingly good, but it had been just once, could've been a damn fluke. Now he had no idea how she'd do it, how she'd want him, and he didn't really want to stop kissing her or for Amber to stop touching him the way she was, just so he could find out.

Sated, the shower stall seemed cast in a soft glow. Amber's reaction time was slower, too; wasn't until a few seconds of him probing her mouth, deepening their kiss, did she giggle lightly. He wanted her so much. Her. If it was joy, or pride, or simply the post-orgasm buzz— something made her feel invincible. Gave in to that kiss, to bring Eric closer, because even now she wanted him. Like this, all she could see were his lidded eyes, his curved lashes. Felt so much more, the scrape of his beard around her mouth, his goading, insistent humping. Probably thought her the worst tease in the world.

Delayed perception or no, Eric's dithering filtered through her awareness. For all that his dick throbbed against her skin and however dilated with arousal his eyes were, he sounded more like a trapped animal than a man about to receive extreme pleasure. Oh jeez, not this again. He always came so damn hard whenever she did something unconventional to him, hard enough to be wiped out for the rest of the night, but he kept getting so damn hesitant and guilty. Amber held back an exasperated sigh. If she had to school him how to be a hornball, she could teach him how to look forward to a bit of anal play. "Baby, I'll make it feel good," she whispered, borrowing his beloved endearment. And she would; she knew she could blow his mind. Squeezed his balls for a second, thumbing the base of his dick. "Be right back."

Fumbling for the handle behind her, the door swung open and, legs weakened, it took her a couple of uncertain steps to remember how to walk. Her flip-flops stuck to her feet, smacking as they finally parted from her soles and struck the ground. Amber swayed to the bench where she'd left her bag, riffling through a side compartment where she kept a small bottle of body lotion in case her skin dried up after a hot shower at the gym. From a smaller pouch she extracted a condom; who knew, it might come in handy. If Eric or her got the urge to fuck, she wouldn't want to leave the warmth of his arms again.

Amber turned around, meaning to hurry back to the shower, but damn. She had to take a moment to appreciate how fucking gorgeous Eric was. Naked, dark skin gleaming from the changing room lights and remaining dampness; and such a beautiful form, with wide shoulders, shapely thighs, and a perfectly kissable stomach. Not to mention his erection, long and magnificent, rising impatiently. "Sexy," she informed him, flirtatious and completely honest.

Motor functions fully regained, Amber stalked back to him, letting her subtle swing entice him. Dipped to drop the condom at the entrance, then stepped into the shower box, not bothering to close the door. But he was so hard, so needy, she knew better than to delay things any further. "Tell me what you’re feeling," she said softly, pushing him towards one of the side walls and pressing her entirety of her body against his, tilting her head for a kiss, rocking for maximum friction. They fit so snug, her breasts flattened against his pecs, his dick trapped between their stomachs. Meanwhile, her right hand flipped the bottle open and turned it upside down, squeezing out a generous amount of lotion.

The disappearance of Amber's body heat reminded him that he was wet, the air wasn't exactly super-heated, and he was about to get fucked. Again. After asking for it. Amber's reassurance wasn't nearly as comforting as she probably thought, even though he knew it was true. What stopped him from stopping her was her soft, careful voice, calling him baby. Foreman had no idea what it meant to her, not after she'd gotten so upset the first time he'd used it. But in her mouth, he found it calming, the same way her hands were when she massaged his shoulders or cupped his head as she kissed him. Damn irrational, but it kept him from screwing things up in the bare minute she spent getting the lotion she'd promised.

Foreman raised his arms, resting his wrists against the upper edge of the shower door, and leaned forward. The movement stretched out his lower back and his delts. The physical loosening of his muscles left him warm and eager, the stretch seeming to spill a lava flow of desire through him. He smirked at Amber's ass as she crossed the small space, rummaging in her bag, turning back to him with a condom and some lotion. The slow, appreciative evaluation that she gave him as she turned back made him want to stretch more, show off somehow. His cock twitched, anticipating the slick grip of her hand again. Not to mention whatever else she planned to do to him. Foreman grinned, confidence from her words and hesitation from what he knew she'd want combining in a strange mixture of arousal and nerves low in his stomach. It felt good, though, the ambivalence bringing a delicious edge to the sensation. He backed up easily as Amber urged him back to the wall, his eyes running slowly down her body, then back up to catch her intent expression.

He sighed as she moulded herself to him. Kissing her languorously, Foreman matched her movements, thrusting against her stomach, the easy pleasure of the friction easing his anxiety. What he was thinking, Christ, he didn't know, and even if he did, he wasn't sure how to tell her. "Good," he started, since it was true. His eyes flew open, wide, to catch the sight of her uncapping the lotion and spurting some, creamy and white, into her palm; it looked fucking erotic, and Foreman's breath grew even more shallow. "I, uh. Want to feel you. Your fingers." Steeling himself, he added, "Nervous." Not that there was any fucking reason to be. Why he couldn't just let it be what it was? It was what he wanted, and Amber had never once backed down when Foreman finally let her know what was on his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, then met Amber's gaze. "Fuck me."

Good; it seemed Eric was overcoming his hesitation despite himself, eagerness building at the signs that she really would finger-fuck him. It was way too soon to feel anything but a faint twinge of arousal, still contracting from ebbing waves of orgasm, but Amber's excitement grew with his. Felt more delicious, knowing how relatively new this was to him; loved being able to share new forms of ecstasy. "Okay," she coaxed the stilted words out of him, purring. And then: fuck me. Oh god yeah, that deserved another kiss, mouthing fast and needy, head spinning just from hearing that. "I'll fuck you," Amber promised, squeezing his ass with her left hand, staring into his eyes. "Though you know, if you want a real good fuck, you'll have to wait til we get back home." Smiling at him, letting him puzzle out the meaning, Amber shut the bottle close and dropped it. It crashed against the floor, but no greater harm was done.

From the last and only time she’d given him a rim job, Amber knew she couldn't let up the stimulation, lest Eric fall out of the rhythm and thus the mood. He was already hard and wanting; no point in teasing with lighter touches. A hand job would do just as well, but-- who was she to pass up the chance to take him into her mouth? With a final quick kiss, Amber lowered to her knees, coming conveniently face to face with his erection; its musky scent filled her senses even before she tilted it and engulfed the tip in her mouth-- oh. Amber couldn’t resist, lapping his precome, sucking his head, bobbing her head to the side to run her lips over his entire length; had to force herself to stop playing as if he were her own fuck toy, here solely for her own whims. Amber cast her eyes upward, purposefully running her tongue along the bottom of his shaft; knew that’d get a reaction, the sight of her showing off how much she loved his cock in her mouth. Better yet, it’d let her gauge how he was feeling.

All the while she’d been warming up the lotion, rubbing it against her fingers. As she distracted him by sucking his dick, Amber brought her right hand back to his ass, running it up and down his crack, letting him get used to her touch. It was warm there, tight; aside from his puckered flesh, the skin was smoother, softer. Gradually Amber narrowed down to his anus, circling round it, pressing more firmly. The lotion made everything slick, letting her fingers slide easily. As he yielded, her touch became stronger and stronger, her mouth still sucking slowly and obscenely at his dick. She’d have a crick in her neck before this was done, not to mention scrapes against her knees; her thighs might not be able to withstand the effort, after everything she’d put them through today. But for as long as she could stand it, Amber would give all she could to him. The sounds her mouth made echoed in her ears; everything else was him.

The bottle crashed to the floor of the shower. Foreman leaned back against the wall, tipping his head back, breathing too hard to return Amber's kiss. He couldn't keep his attention from his dick, from his ass, from what she was about to do. The nervous edge to his feelings sharpened, no matter how much he insisted to himself that it was fine. Not gonna hurt, and she likes it, she doesn't care that you like it, she likes that you like it, so shut up-- Didn't work. He braced himself against the wall and bit his lip, the fluorescent light fixture above the shower swimming in his vision until his eyes slipped closed.

Amber dropped to her knees, and Foreman couldn't help the hoarse, wanting sound that ripped from his throat. This, he knew, and his blood pounded in his cock even before her mouth closed over him. God. Just the head. Fucking teasing him. Lapping at him, no suction, just the hot exploration of her tongue, and then--swirling, sucking pressure. "Ohh, fuck. Fuck, Amber--" His voice stopped, but her name repeated over and over again in his mind, the syllables matching the insistent, eager movement of her mouth. Amber was so good, fucking talented, her mouth slipping over his length again and again, and she knew it, which only made him hotter. The sweet pulling need was so good. Pleasure exploded, heat increasing until it felt like a fever--burning, but leaving him shivering, muscles aching, mind fucking lost. Foreman touched Amber's damp hair, determined not to clutch, but it was instinct, the desire to shove his hips forward and fuck her mouth nearly overcoming him. He'd barely noticed the first teasing pushes of her finger, but as soon as his hips started moving, he felt it.

Breath seizing in his lungs, Foreman slid an inch lower, feet bracing him, knees bending just enough to give him some room to spread his legs. "Yeah--yeah, okay, yes--" Had to relax, had to be ready. The first prodding touch wasn't going to be good, but after that--he was working towards the moment it would be. The pleasure from Amber's mouth outstripped his fear, and Foreman nudged against the slippery rub of her finger. He was sensitive enough that it felt good; the teasing massage, the promise of pressure, the dull awareness that she'd push into him soon. "F-fuck." His voice sounded blaring in his ears, but it couldn't have been above a mutter. "Do it."

He was lost, far as Amber could tell. Too hard to keep looking, craning her neck; she'd trust his wordless noises to let her know if he needed more or slower or different. Eric’s flexing hips, straining forward as if impeded further progress by a leash, were a pretty good sign too. So she kept on, following her own urges to suck more cries out of him, push him so hard to forget his name. His dick seemed to grow hotter in her mouth, slick with her saliva; Amber upped the suction, tugging at his skin, swirling her tongue against his base. If only there were someone to touch her, play with her labia, draw out the feelings building up there, because yeah, she was getting wet again...

Her own left hand clenched his thigh for support, her other one continued with the penetration. Broken words and sounds of encouragement, legs spreading like it was the most natural thing in the world, his muscle relaxing-- yeah, he wanted this. Really wanted this, enough to try to ignore his fears. And Amber'd give it to him, proud and happy. (And she wouldn’t think about how much she might be motivated by her recent defeat; anal penetration was no way to show someone up or to reestablish skill; she wouldn’t read into this. He’d asked to be touched, she was only delivering.) He’d just better not mope about it afterward, she was tired of having to put up with his suffering for getting what he wanted. If they both got their rocks off, where was the problem? She’d tell him off if he tried to pull another guilt trip.

Wasn't hard at all to slip her finger index past his sphincter-- not much, just up to the first bend, enough to twist, curling into his ass, stroking softly. Worked her way in; he'd been so sensitive the last time, but he hadn't really surrendered to pleasure until his prostrate got attention. Soon, soon; she couldn't rush it. Plenty of nerves to stimulate at the tip, to make him feel good. Amber only wished she had how to talk, to tell him how hot he was, how she wanted him to come for her. The words were in her mind, and the feeling flowering in her as she squirmed, starting to become frustrated with unattended horniness; but the best she could do was to tighten her lips around his dick, bobbing her head up and down.

Grunting, Foreman twitched at the first real intrusion of Amber's fingertips. Slippery with the lotion she'd used, there wasn't any pain, but despite the insistent draw of her mouth around his cock, his attention centered on her finger as if that was all that was happening. The minute flutter of muscles alternately impeded her progress and urged her deeper, and Foreman couldn't decide which he wanted more. His abs tensed as he eased down further. The burn in his thighs from holding himself up hurt worse than her finger did. The slight penetration, going deeper with each new push, felt weirdly huge, awkward, but also satisfying--something to press against, solid and unmistakably present.

He had no idea how Amber had known--if she'd known, fuck, maybe she did this with every guy who ended up in her bed--but having her fingering him while she sucked him heightened the whole experience. More than just a blowjob. Getting sucked off was easy, he only had to lean back and let his orgasm grow until it washed over him. Amber could have him coming in five minutes, or less, the way she sucked him down so deep and still seemed able to flick her tongue across the underside just there with every bobbing stroke. But her hands, her finger--it gave him an anchor, a place to hang his thoughts, until none of this was just sex; he was involved, far more than a simple orgasm would leave him. Foreman could feel how careful she was, and he could tense up, or relax, and guide her that way. She had to know him, in order to make this work, and care, and want to take her time. The pleasure was different, too, the red flare dull at first, but growing, and deeper; more initimate.

"Uhn, more," he said, gasping a bit and looking down, aroused all over again as he watched Amber blowing him like she couldn't get enough. If you want a real good fuck, you'll have to wait til we get back home--he hadn't missed those words. Foreman had no idea what she meant, whether he should be sweating with nervous fear or nervous anticipation. He swayed a bit, starting to move against her finger instead of away. Yeah. Yeah, good. Amber was going to be so fucking smug. Foreman couldn't bring himself to care, to worry. His cock was straining, and he'd come hard, he knew, if only he got more.

"Mmmmhhhh," Amber purred, pleased. Her finger's easy glide in without had already told her as much, but it was so damn satisfying to hear Eric himself beg for more-- well, begging by his current standards of comfort. And if he was, jesus, actually asking, then she wouldn't hold back. (Later she wouldn't say I told you so. At least, not in those words. Yeah, she was right, that was reward enough, as was his reaction right now, fucking himself on her finger; didn’t need to rub it in his face. Much.)

Her index finger had stretched him out enough to add another; he took that in too, quickly, as if he’d grown impatient and was sucking in everything that came near. As for going in deeper, Eric himself did that, one of his flexes driving her fingers in further. Amber moaned, from deep inside her throat; shifted to lean more weight on her already-tired knees so that she could bring her left hand between her legs, rubbing her labia not to bring herself off but to make the pleasure spread, help take the edge off her own need. (So wet, from her previous orgasm, so full--) Let her focus on him, taking more of him into his mouth, working her jaw constantly, hardly licking now, aimed just as suction. The saltiness of his precome was everywhere, in the back of her throat, on her lips, accentuating the taste of his cock. Her index and middle finger coiled in deeper, probing, searching, massaging; didn’t take long to find that hardened elevation. There. Amber smiled for a second, winced; hurt to do so, with her mouth full. But it was still with triumph that she stroked his prostrate, gently yet firmly, absolutely convinced it’d make him forget all his hesitations, and more besides. C’mon, she thought to herself, Eric, give in. Don’t fight it.

Amber's moan vibrated around his cock. Foreman exhaled sharply, breath leaving him in explosive little bursts. Fuck, one finger felt huge, two left him clenching down tight, fear suddenly leaping into his throat again. Every fraction of an inch of movement rubbed him raw, and he didn't know--he couldn't--God--

Foreman had no idea if he cried out, wordless and sharp, or if every sound only echoed in his mind. He knew he jerked, nearly pulled his cock out of Amber's mouth with the movement. But, fuck, the feeling of Amber's fingers stroking just there, fucking Christ. On some level, he knew it was his prostate, that there were nerve endings there. All his brain would allow him to think was that he wanted it again, that deep strange pleasure, the surprising force of it. Foreman's abs tensed as he pushed for more. Amber's mouth, sucking him in, the answering twitch of her fingers, worked him into a frenzy. Not that he was bucking his hips, or even moving much, but there was a storm raging through his mind. He didn't have to move. Hands squeezing Amber's shoulders, Foreman could ease forward into the hot suction of her mouth, and then, back, there, again, shivering at the bolts of sensation. Balls tightening, cock stiff and slick; it felt timeless, like it would last forever, until with one spiking jolt, everything kicked into a higher gear.

"Fuck. I'm--Amber, you're--making me come." Garbled as the warning was, there was no way he could force out any more coherent words. All he wanted was to push through into the hot slam of sensation. Moving now. Needing to. Couldn't help it. Lightheaded, panting, Foreman drove back onto Amber's fingers one last time, and that was all it took. The stroke tipped him over the edge, a deep groan vibrated in his chest, and he came in sharp, incredible pulses of pleasure.

Victory; he'd lost it. Groaning, rocking to spark off the two distinct pleasures on either side of him, Eric gave way like a wall of sand crumbling against a wave. Amber had to stop touching herself, gripping his thigh again with her left hand; his sharp movements knocked her head back repeatedly, and if she weren't careful, she could easily fall. Wouldn't that be funny, if just before he could come, she disengaged? But Eric was still relatively restrained; Amber had been with men who were far more intense about fucking her mouth. And she was determined: digits digging into his flesh, legs locked to keep her torso up, Amber could handle a few head bangs.

Having readjusted herself to deal with his erratic, powerful thrusts, Amber smugly enjoyed the fruits of her labor. Pity she couldn’t get a good view of his face, bent as she was to keep sucking his dick-- it must've been a glorious sight, pinched and uncensored. They'd talked about cameras, maybe—but Eric probably wouldn't want evidence of his ecstasy at being ass fucked. His tremors-- she felt every one, shaking out from his hips-- would have to be reward enough, as would be his thoughtless cries. Christ, he must've forgotten that they were in a semi-public spot; this the passers-by could hear. God. Yeah. They'd know what was going on, wonder who was so lucky. Maybe those boys from the court heard, would put two and two together.

At Eric's timely warning, Amber pulled back slightly, expecting him to jerk harder-- and, yeah, he really did twitch all over the place. His dick pulsated in her mouth like one last clench before releasing all it had to offer, the come hot and bitter. Good, yeah, that's what she wanted: Amber kept on sucking with relish, remembering how much he'd loved that the other time she'd blown him; kept on stroking with her fingers, too, because no matter how shy Eric was about things up his ass, testing proved conclusively that he was wild about it. Maybe he could throw a ball better than her, but this-- sex-- Amber ruled.

As Eric's movements subsided, Amber took a deep breath through her nose; swallowed the come that had accumulate in her mouth. Sticky, it needed a strong gulp to go down; and then, whole body spent, Amber’s legs gave way, collapsing. She found herself suddenly sitting on the floor, legs splayed around Eric's and her ass against the cold and wet tile floor tile. Startled, she looked up, though she quickly tried to mask it as amusement.

Refusing to look weak, especially since no matter how amazing she'd been just now, she'd still lost that game, Amber got to knees and then her feet, barely using the wall as support. Now that the goal of getting Eric off was accomplished, the exhaustion that had been with her all along manifested itself, flooding her nerves. Too many sore muscles to name, plus a crick in her neck. And what she'd been assuming were leftover water drops was actually sweat, built up all over again from the fucking.

Throwing Eric a tired smile, Amber cranked on the shower. She could hear water hitting the space outside the box, but she was too tired to close the door. With the long break, the shower was steaming hot again. The heat ached against her worn body, but it felt good too, like a vicious massage. "Some work out, huh."

Coming seemed to last, longer than Foreman could account for. The sensation arrowed between Amber's fingers and her mouth on his cock, until one seemed to intensify the other, both of them setting off new ripples after the first jolt had passed. God, it--he couldn't believe he was getting off on this, but it was so shockingly true that he couldn't deny it. One foot slid out from under him, only an inch, but it was enough to make him fling out an arm, banging his hand against one of the glass walls of the shower. Foreman braced himself, huffing for air, the aftershocks of his orgasm reverberating in incredible shockwaves as long as Amber kept sucking him. His ass twitched around her fingers as she rubbed one last spark of pleasure out of him.

It probably wasn't very gentlemanly, but Foreman tipped his head back, eyes closed, and barely noticed when Amber stopped touching him. His body was humming, nerves brought up to fever pitch and then completely satisfied, so that he felt lazy in the best possible way. Exhausted, but so content he could barely move. His eyelids felt too heavy to open, but he managed it, returning Amber's pleased smile. He flinched under the first hot spray of the shower, but a second later it felt glorious. Amber was right--this was exactly like the endorphin high of a good workout. It was simple to transfer his weight from the shower wall into leaning on her, allowing Amber to lean back just as heavily. Arms wrapped around her, Foreman wanted to go to sleep with his head resting on her shoulder, with the hot water rushing down her back and his shoulders. "How do you do that," he muttered, too tired to even make it into a question. Kissing her throat briefly, he murmured, "So good," against her skin.

He finally straightened. Wouldn't be much of a shower without soap, and the hot water would run out on them again in no time. He stepped out long enough to grab the bar from the top of his sports bag, and brought it bag, lathering up quickly. His arms felt twice as heavy as they should, but he soaped down quickly, then handed Amber the soap and shuffled around her so that he could rinse off while she washed. His ass ached a bit--just enough that when he moved, he was reminded that Amber had had her fingers there, like the lingering ghost of the penetration. Probably should've freaked him out more, liking that, but right now he was too damn tired to care about anything except how spectacularly he'd come.

Eric had gone off in his own world, eyes closed and leaning against the shower wall. Seemed to forget even her, trilling with whatever was going on inside him. Amber watched that moment of seclusion, expression softening. It was bittersweet, knowing she'd pushed him that far, that he'd felt comfortable enough to be that selfish. She knew how hard it was for him to let go, keeping up those notions he'd drilled through his skull on how to behave and treat women. It was also a bit-- lonely. She wasn't a part of that peak, not really. No more than he was when she came. In the end, what did it matter who got you to orgasm, if the results were the same? Then again, who else would've blown and fingered him in the gym? No one else, so far.

Apparently Eric was so buzzed he didn't notice her thoughtfulness, simply snuggling her. She let his own emotions, brimming with joy, wash over her just as the water did. Fell into his embrace, wrapping her arms back around him, sinking her weight into his. Stroked the nape of his neck as he cradled his head upon her shoulder, slowly, tenderly. She wanted to sleep here and now, so badly, just enough to deal with the exhaustion. But she couldn't show it. She'd lost already, couldn't expose more vulnerabilities. Cockily, she told him, "I'm just amazing." His vague but heart-felt flattery was much appreciated; Amber knew just how hard he'd come, but she was glad that his first post-reaction was glowing. Could've just as easily closed up, like last night. Amber pressed her lips against his jaw, the hot water mingling between them.

While he stepped out, Amber tilted her head up into the spray, closing her eyes, summoning up reserves of energy. They'd eat soon, at that sandwich place. That'd do her wonders; her stomach growled its approval. Tired, in a cramped place, she kept bumping into Eric, elbow in his back, her shoulder blades against his chest. Their feet too skirted round one another as they shuffled for the prime spot beneath the shower head. The soap in her hands, Amber lathered up for a full-body wash, enough to undo the accumulated sweat. Her ponytail she left up; knowing them, they'd likely need another round at cleaning up before going to sleep, and she'd take care of her hair then. Besides, the water temperature had already drastically fallen.

Fully rinsed off, Amber picked up her lotion and forgotten condom and walked out of the box, stretching her arms over her head. She trailed water everywhere. Not that she cared, now that they were done with the room, but she quickly dug through her bag anyway for a towel, if only to keep from shivering.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject