alwaysright | November 28th, 2007

November 28th, 2007 - Wednesday

Amber eyed the small mountain her bags added up to. Part of her wondered if she hadn’t overdone it; this wasn’t the apocalypse. The rest of her new better: Thanksgiving with her family? Was worse. In those suitcases were provisions for all possible disasters, including a sleeping bag and extra bed sheets. Her mom would not accuse her of forgetting anything.

The salad, though, they’d get that in Worcester itself. Amber preferred to face last-minute Wednesday lines than bring six-hour wilted lettuce from Princeton-Plainsboro.

That ought to be it, though. Time to go. They were going to have a lot of traffic as it was since House had insisted they stay Wednesday afternoon despite the fact that they had no case—and also despite the fact most of the hospital had been gone since yesterday. House couldn’t actually be that lonely and bitter, not when she knew for a fact that Wilson had invited him to a full Thanksgiving meal cooked in his very own apartment. If House wanted to stay at the hospital to impress and/or to get into the pants of Cuddy—who would be working through the holiday, according to Amber’s sources (Cameron)— he didn’t have make them all suffer with him.

Amber got her cell phone out and texted Eric: Leaving now, be ready to go. He probably knew by now she would not spare him his life if he and his own bags were not waiting for her on the curb. He was rather inconsistent about when and when not to get into a power struggle with her, but for his own good and for her punctuality, she hoped he wouldn’t make a case of it today. Throwing her cell phone back into her purse, Amber began the wonderful journey of torture, starting with getting all her damn things down a huge staircase. First thing she’d do when she got back was get in the apartment management’s face about getting a damn elevator.

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Amber barely believed their good fortune. She'd thought they'd have to spend another hour or two with drinks and more small talk about just how perfectly green Geoffrey's grass was, but her mom went and gave her permission to break away. She reached for Eric's hand, a smile bursting on her face. In her eagerness to be alone with him, her annoyances from earlier, their near-fight in the kitchen, were all but forgotten.

Her mind flooded with images of what they could do once she'd closed the door behind them. They'd have to be quiet, but at least a proper kiss, long and deep. Amber wasn't sure if she'd be up for much more, knowing that most of her closest relatives were meters away, but that was okay. Eric and walls around them sounded perfect right now.

Amber was already on her feet, fingers lacing between his and ready to bolt, when Eric asked, with more a wince than a grin, if she'd give him the tour. Now why would he go and ruin the escape plan they'd been given on a silver platter? She almost said no. But... he seemed to unfold with the question, some of his tension easing away. Amber could give him this. "Sure," she said. "You've seen most of the first floor, but we also have another living room in the back--" Amber waved towards it, willing to go there if he wanted. "And then there's the second floor, that's where all the bedrooms are."

Foreman's smile widened. Amber looked so crestfallen when he asked for a tour--their minds couldn't have gone to the same moment in time, if she was reacting like he'd asked her to perform a chore instead of a prison break. The last thing he wanted was to be shown every inch of wallpaper. Besides, he'd save that for when he wanted to get in Kate's good graces. She'd be the one who'd be happiest to show him every smoothed nick and repainted accent wall. Although the idea of seeing childhood pictures did cross his mind. They had to be around somewhere. Still, not now. Foreman took Amber's hand and stepped close to her. "I was kidding," he said. "I'd much rather unpack." He left the interpretation of that up to her--from his tone of voice, he could hardly believe that she'd think he was interested in having his clothes neatly folded and put away.

It looked like Geoffrey and Chris were settling down in the living room; Foreman wondered if either of them cared about football. If they were watching the game tomorrow, then Foreman would have a much easier time connecting with them. As long as they were Bears fans.

Jude and Leila were just coming downstairs from putting Madeleine down. Somewhat sardonically, Foreman realized that he and Amber might be escaping, but they were also giving the family the perfect opportunity to talk about him and Amber behind their backs. Now would be the moment when his flaws were trotted out and dissected, and he wouldn't be there to defend himself or even to figure out exactly which of his faux pas had been the real dealbreakers. Still, the privacy was worth it. Foreman gestured for Amber to take the tour upstairs--and the faster, the better.

Fortunately, her mom had already gone into the kitchen; she'd have been disappointed that Eric wasn't dying to learn every detail of her improved house. Amber, though, was relieved. "I do have a lot of bags," she said. It was the flimsiest of excuses. If anyone overheard them, they wouldn't believe their flirtatious lies for one second. But she was saying it for Eric alone, playing along with his growing enthusiasm. "We should get started on that."

She'd have kissed him then and there, but that seemed frustrating. Here she'd have to stick with mere a peck and with just a few steps she could have so, so much more. With a wide smirk, Amber tugged him away from the table and to the stairs. She didn't say goodnight to the others, as that'd mean more conversation than she was up to. If they just bolted away, then they could happen to 'fall asleep' and not put up with anyone else until tomorrow.

Amber scurried up the stairs. Growing up, she'd had her own way of going up this staircase, three steps at a time. It was strange, leading Eric up-- the steps weren't wide enough for them to go side-by-side-- feeling the urge to go at her old, automated pace, but not able to, with him there.

She drew him into her room and firmly closed the door. The space felt tinier than ever: not only were there the old computer and VHS player her parents had dumped in here, but now there were their bags and two full-grown, large adults. She’d longed to take Eric's face between her hands and kiss him deep; to press into him and have him touch her into forgetting all the old humiliations being at home brought back. But as she did it, covering his mouth fast and eager, it was also to keep him from looking too closely at her room.

Foreman felt like a giggling kid as they made their way up the stairs. It wasn't a comparison he liked, no matter how glad he was to get away. They couldn't possibly pretend that everyone in the house didn't know what they were doing, and yet it felt like they were getting away with something. Amber's hand in his was warm, tugging him along, and Foreman hurried after her. He saw no more than a glance of the upstairs hallway before Amber yanked him into one of the rooms and shut the door. The next thing he knew, Amber was pulling him into a kiss. Her palms cupped his face, warm from the glasses of wine he'd had at dinner, and her lips against his were soft at first and then firmly seeking.

It felt like he'd been waiting forever for the kiss. Foreman wrapped his arms around Amber immediately, spreading his hands over her back. He massaged one hand up and down her spine, while the other pressed her as close as he could. They hadn't kissed, not like this, since--Christ--days ago; work had gotten in the way, the pre-Thanksgiving rush, House's damn interference. The combination of wine and desire made Foreman's head swim. His eyes were closed, and yet he felt like he could see every inch of Amber. He kissed her again, slow and deep, like a drink after a desert. Her body was familiar, her breasts pressing against his chest, her legs fitting with his as he stepped forward, as close as he could get. Finally, he sighed, and dropped his head, only enough to breathe. "You feel good," he said. That deserved another kiss, which he gave her, more a whisper than a conversation this time.

He had no idea what they were doing. Amber's room might give them a measure of privacy, but he had to remember that one kiss here was far different than if they were at his place, or hers. More than once, they'd walked in the door and into each other's arms, by mutual agreement putting sex above dinner or even hanging up their coats. With Amber's family so near, nothing would be that easy. Still, Foreman kissed Amber again, tasted her lips, and hoped for more.

It was a balm, holding Eric and being held back. All the tension coiled up in Amber seemed to smooth away, like washing dirt from a surface. It didn't matter that her brother was a prat or that her mom never would entirely approve of her: Amber only cared about the tenderness of Eric's kiss, how warm and good and desired his embrace made her feel. She opened up to him, deepening their kiss and molding herself to him as much as possible.

But it wasn't close enough. His suit, cool and silky, was an unforgivable barrier. Her own clothes were annoying, her buttons digging into her breasts and her shirt keeping her from truly feeling his fingertips as he touched her back. Even replying to Eric's compliment with words was too great a waste when she could tell him through kiss rather than words that he was amazing. The fullness of his tongue in her mouth, his scent so immediate and strong—it made her lightheaded. He always did.

Still tasting him, Amber pushed him towards the bed, careful to trace a route that would avoid all the waylaid bags. He'd been pressing just as hard into her, kissing just as desperately. She didn't know why he was in the mood, if her family had driven him just as crazy as her or if it was all these days they'd gone without. Whatever his reasons, Amber felt she had all the permission needed to shove him on to the mattress. Landing on him with a barely suppressed gasp, Amber locked her eyes on his for a moment. "I hope you can be quiet," she whispered as her hands flew to his buttons, undoing them. She didn’t think about paper-thin walls or what anyone downstairs would say, so focused Amber was on relieving her desire.

Foreman didn't resist Amber's shoves maneuvering him towards the bed. Under different circumstances, he would have laughed at her eagerness. As it was, he let out a muffled grunt and fell back with barely-controlled force when the bed hit the back of his knees and Amber's push put him off-balance at the same moment. Amber was on top of him a second later, and Foreman's mind began to catch up with their situation about the moment she flung his tie to one side and started industriously opening his shirt. Foreman's eyes widened, his breath coming shorter in surprise. Instead of the immediate, consuming attention he'd had for her a second ago, his gaze darted to the door, and then around the room.

It was small, big enough for the double bed and the small desk with an old, oversized computer monitor, but a row of boxes along one wall along with their piled baggage took up most of the remaining floorspace. The overhead lights were off, the rest lit by a small bedside lamp that someone had probably turned on as they'd carried the luggage up. Foreman couldn't get much more than an impression of buttercup-yellow walls and the matching bedspread underneath him. Amber's childhood room. Amber's room, right above Amber's parents' heads. "I--are you sure you--" He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to cover his hesitation, something Amber never appreciated when she was this determined. He wanted her, yes, and the wine was making it suspiciously easy to give in, but the fact was that he wasn't sure he could be quiet, or how quiet 'quiet' was--Kate and Chris's bedroom could be on the other side of one of these walls, dammit. Foreman half-sat up, struggling a bit under Amber's pinning weight, and brought his hands to cover her wrists. Not tight enough to stop her, but with enough weight to make her think about what they were doing. Tell him what they were doing, before they were caught up in the middle of it.

Eric was sprawled beneath her, hers for the taking. All she had to do was get rid of his pesky wrapping and then she could luxuriate in the heat of his skin. There was no better antidote to forgetting her woes. Amber shoved to the back of her mind all her history with this bed, including all the other people she’d made out with on it, and sat on her calves. This way she could undo those buttons faster, targeting the top ones on his suit's jacket and then his shirt; every inch of revealed flesh was a reward. First the dip of his throat into his collarbone, then--

He grabbed at her hands. That wasn't her kink. Amber glared down at him. What, did he want her to stop? They'd fought over this very kind of thing before. Yet another fight would get in the way of her fucking his brains out.

No. Eric wasn't going to get in the way of her-- their-- fun. And in this month of dating, Amber had learned a trick or two in placating him. One, make him feel heard. Two, get him horny enough to say yes to practically anything. She leaned forward, bending her back and neck to kiss him again, her hair trailing over his cheeks and pillow. The mattress sighed with the movement. It started off light, her lips almost not touching his; then, as if obeying a greater force, Amber leaned further, deepening the kiss. She took her time withdrawing, slowly opening her eyes as she did so, looking into his. "I'm sure," she whispered. She'd already decided, they were going to fuck, and she wouldn't rest until they met this goal. "I need you so bad, Eric." Amber let a whimper work itself into her voice, timing it to match a thrust of her hips into his abdomen.

Foreman was sprawled mostly sideways on the bed; his head had barely managed to make it on to a pillow, and his left leg hadn't made it on to the bed at all. He pushed at the floor with one foot, trying to wriggle back at least far enough that his ass wasn't falling off the edge of the mattress. Amber had his shirt gaping open, the soft, deliberate movement of her fingers over his chest and down his stomach making his abs clench and shiver, but his tie was still pushed up beside his head. Her impatience, and the light rock of her hips against his stomach, was enticing, but Foreman couldn't keep his ears from straining for the sound of footsteps on the stairs, or any sign that the conversation in the living room was audible from the bedroom, which could only mean that they'd be heard in return, even if they never raised their voices.

Amber's slow, lingering kiss seemed perfectly designed to strip his inhibitions away as methodically as she was stripping off his clothes. Foreman closed his eyes and kissed her back. The way she sucked at his lip and tugged as she pulled back was sexy as hell, and that one act tore another prop out from under his self-control. When he didn't have this much to lose by giving in, it always turned him on that Amber had learned him well enough to try to manipulate him by giving him what he wanted. "You need to prove something by acting like we're not in your parents' house," he said. It was true, and he damn well hoped she knew he wasn't fooled. But it was also a rebellious mutter, one she could ignore if she chose. He'd missed her, he was horny, he'd been drinking, and she wasn't taking no for an answer. So simple to give in and touch her. She'd probably do anything he wanted, if it meant getting her way in the end--like suck him until he couldn't remember, let alone care, about the cold-shower reality that her parents could walk in on them at any moment. Foreman lifted his head off the pillow and kissed Amber again, half-wishing it was enough to placate her. It was deep, gentle, needy, and if that was all she wanted he'd be happy to kiss her all night.

It wasn't going to be all she wanted. "I really shouldn't be thinking about who's been on this bed," he said, another half-hearted attempt to douse the proceedings in a little reality. If Amber had really lived here all her life, then there were probably at least a few spotty, idiot teenage boys who'd been laid out like he was now. Well, at least Foreman had the self-assurance to know what the hell he was doing, and not come in his pants. He sighed and let go of Amber's hands, holding her hips instead. The hook-and-eye catch of her skirt was under his left hand, and he opened it, quickly drawing down her zipper a second later. With her skirt loose on her hips, he slipped his fingers under her blouse. Palm spread, fingers following the warm curve of Amber's stomach, he dipped his thumbs under the waistband of her panties, and stroked enticing lines up towards her breasts with his fingertips.

"Quiet," Amber scolded. If she paid Eric's observations too much attention, she'd kick him out of bed and have him sleep on the floor, the mood would be so killed. Yes, she was looking for a distraction and being reminded of it wasn't advancing the cause. She refused to let herself repeat his words in her mind, focusing entirely on trailing her fingertips over the parts of his chest she'd already brought out of hiding. Such a simple action, and yet she found her heartbeat was slowing down from her previous anxiety.

Amber had been driven so far by the determination to forget. But reaching his tie and loosening it, the silk cool against the palm of her hands, helped her relax. It was okay. Eric was beneath her, smirking yet patient, gorgeous as ever. She'd told him downstairs that having him here helped, and now it was truer than ever. As she unwound, Amber was able to take action without deliberately planning out how to gain her desired effect. Without thinking, she raised her upper body, giving Eric the freedom to shift into a more comfortable position.

He could free her too. Amber was about to tell him to start undoing her own shirt, warming with arousal at the memory of all the other times she'd given him that same command. The kiss eased her mind further, drawing out her pleasure. They were together. Eric's touch would make her feel good, she knew it.

That was, if he could keep his mouth shut. Amber sighed. "Not now," she said. She wouldn't take back any of those fumblings-- well, except for maybe with one guy in particular-- but reveling in those trips back to the past was what she was trying to avoid. So much better to close her eyes and shiver as Eric finally, finally started undressing her. Yes. His touch was amazing, anchoring her to the physicality of their present. "Take my shirt off," she said low-- always low, they could be heard-- getting to the part he'd nearly ruined. Need started to throb inside her, demanding satisfaction, wherever, however. "Touch me, go on."

As Amber lifted off him for a moment, Foreman was able to push back and get his body more or less entirely on the bed, without worrying that any over-ambitious move would send them tumbling to the floor with a thud that would be sure to set the Volakis' tongues wagging. The mattress squeaked quietly, but Foreman didn't notice. Amber's skin was warm, and he grinned up at her as she ordered him to take her shirt off. She hated it when he teased at this point in the proceedings. There were times--when he took her nipples between his teeth and circling them with his tongue, or occasionally, when he'd eased her in to the idea, going down on her, drawing his tongue along her labia--those were the moments to draw out the movement to as slow and excrutiating as he could make it. But once Amber had decided that she'd rather be naked, no delays were tolerated. Foreman slid his hands out of her shirt and started working on the buttons.

He looked up and met Amber's eyes as he opened her blouse, hands massaging firmly along her shoulders and down her arms as he pushed it off. He wished he could be as fully involved in the moment as she seemed to be. As gorgeous as she looked sitting over him in her rucked-up skirt and bra, Foreman couldn't forget exactly where they were. By now, he'd gone past the point of objecting, so he concentrated on rubbing Amber's nipples through the lace of her bra. "What do you want?" he asked, low and husky. His grin should show her that there were no guarantees that he'd deliver, but listening to Amber order him around was hot whether he gave in or not. He loved the nonchalant way she expected nothing but obedience from him. Foreman loved giving Amber everything she needed, but it also made things that much spicier when he taunted her by saying no.

Foreman swallowed, eyes darting to his hands against the white lace of Amber's bra. He was touching her lightly, palming her stomach and then moving back up to her breasts, finding her nipples again and again, using the friction of the scratchy lace to lend some roughness to his touch. Seeing her enjoy herself, reacting mindlessly to his touch, might finally tip him past an awareness of where they were.

Amber closed her eyes and gave in to the steadily strengthening pulse with her. She'd reached the point she wanted, of simply reacting. No thoughts, just wonderfully positive feelings. Eric's light touches were this close to making her ache, but for now she could deal with their fleeting nature. Rolling her hips gently helped take the edge off her need, and yet seemed to make it greater at the same time. Her clit wasn't getting direct pressure, but she felt the effect of her thighs rubbing together. It wouldn’t be enough in the long run, but it’d do for now.

Her skin cooled as her shirt slowly came off. Made it all the more tempting to lie down with Eric and roll around with him, absorbing his heat. But-- she gasped as his hands covered more of her, and then returned to her nipple, but his touch was no harder than before. "Stop teasing me," she moaned, louder than she meant, then shut up at how her voice echoed. Eyes wide with alarm, Amber bit her lips. Maybe a no-voice policy would be good.

She could show him in other ways what she wanted. Amber covered his hands with her own; one she squeezed, indicating just how he should be pinching her breasts. The other she trailed down into her panties, her breath growing faster. Eric was still reluctant, a fact Amber could tell by how long it took him to follow through her commands—when he was as into the moment as she, there was no lag on his part. She still had to seduce him, show him how much she wanted this, and him.

Amber sat up to give him a better angle of access-- and as she did so, the mattress gave a significant squeak. Nothing they'd hear downstairs, though, and therefore not an impediment. Amber returned to the business of bringing Eric's finger between her labia, sharing her beginning wetness.

Foreman froze when Amber moaned out loud. She looked as panicked as he felt for a moment, and that only made his heart slam harder against his ribs. She was the one who knew how likely it was that they'd be heard. For what seemed like forever, Foreman couldn't even breathe. Every sound was magnified--the springs under his head, Amber's light, quick breaths, his pulse hammering in his ears. The heating switched on, and Foreman almost jumped out of his skin. A second later, he realized it might be a good thing; the white noise might cover some of their more indiscreet sounds. When Amber pushed his hands where she wanted them, Foreman let her. The adrenaline made every ordinary motion feel more significant, more forbidden, and he let his air out in a rush when his hand cupped her vulva.

God, he loved looking at her. Seeing the expression on her face shift. Showing him how affected she was. Foreman dipped his finger between her labia, slipping past her clit to tease around her opening. Amber rocked against his hand, only moving her hips, and Foreman could feel the early signs of her arousal. His fingertip sunk inside her, only just, and then he circled around again, spreading her moisture. Amber was so hot, so familiar and responsive to his touch. Concentrating on that, and trying to squeeze her breast at the same time, took so much of Foreman's attention that he didn't have much left over to strain his ears for her family.

He had a sneaking suspicion that she could seduce him anywhere. The promise in the hitch and shudder of her breath, knowing that he was making her feel all that, struck him freshly every time. And he was hardly immune to the sight of her; Amber's hair drifted over her shoulders, her lipstick was slightly smeared, showing off the pinkness of her lips, and the fact that she was still wearing her bra--that Foreman couldn't see everything--turned him on all the more. She'd managed to get his tie off and open his shirt, but other than that, he was constricted inside his clothes. His distraction faded as he watched her, overwhelmed by how sexy she was, how even silently, she communicated just how turned on he was making her. Foreman felt the stirring of desire in his cock, more than just the warm affection and closeness of their kisses. He licked his lips and moved his hand from Amber's breast around her back and unhooked the clasp of her bra. Instead of trying to take it off, he spread his hand along her back. "Hey," he whispered. "Come here." He pulled her down on top of him. He wanted to feel her body against his; he wanted to kiss her while he fingered her clit, and taste the gasps from her lips.

Already needy, having Eric touch her harder seemed only to make things worse. He knew just how to press, his fingers blazing a trail over her skin; it was as if parts of her only came to life with his caresses. Amber wanted more but it wasn't as if she were getting it. Her hip's thrusts became an insistent rocking, seeking what Eric wasn't delivering; she bit her lower lip, attempting to hold back her whine. She couldn't say his name. Couldn't moan. Couldn't. Amber was being pulled tighter and tighter, a ball of longing. She wasn't sure she could hold it all in. She had to.

Amber felt the release of her bra, so she shrugged it off, together with her shirt. The tug of straps where they shouldn't be and half-falling sleeves always bothered her, even more annoying than having them on.

She'd barely had the time to throw them aside when Eric used her unbalance to bring her down. Amber let out a soft grunt of protest-- this was delaying her gratification!-- but found that her frustration dissipated up close to Eric like this. "Hi," Amber whispered back, mesmerized. She'd mostly closed her eyes while sitting on him, but now... that glow in his eyes. Her heart stuttered. They'd been together for weeks and he still looked at her like that. It frightened and thrilled her. How much longer would that last?

His lips glistened slightly, perhaps with fresh saliva. Irresistibly drawn, Amber bent her head, opening her mouth to his. Kissed him desperately, sucking on his tongue, unable to get enough. She'd so ache from beard burn tomorrow, but for now, it just made the kiss rougher, sweeter. "Unh," she couldn't help, though she tried to keep it quiet. A bit longer and that slight suggestion of hardness would be very satisfying indeed.

Her knees fell down on either side of him, all the better to grind into him. She should've gotten more of his clothes off before. Now that her hands truly itched to run over his biceps, to hold on firm to his hips-- all she had to grasp was his suit. Unacceptable. Still kissing, her hands pulled his shirt from his trousers and moved up. There. Like that. Yes.

Amber's sudden closeness made Foreman' heart pound for an entirely new reason. Her eyes were dark, her lips parted, and Foreman was lifting his head into her kiss at the same moment that her mouth met his. Half-conscious of the need for silence, he kept his deep groan as quiet as possible when she dived into a kiss he could barely keep up with. Pleasure dizzied him as Amber swirled her tongue around his. His cock stiffened, from the friction of Amber's hips and the echoing knowledge of exactly what Amber's mouth felt like when she was this determined, this desperate. His arm was trapped between their bodies, his hand still caught inside Amber's skirt and panties. She rocked her hips against his hand, but he couldn't move enough to keep up the circling, exploratory touching he'd been managing before. Inside his clothes, he was starting to sweat, and his shirt was probably already a lost battle; it had to be wrinkled beyond all any hope but a steam press. Foreman didn't care. Amber was sneaking her hands up under his shirt, and the smoothness of her palms over his stomach, up to his chest, mattered more than the damn shirt. He just wanted out of his suit, damn it.

He'd have to stop touching her in order to touch her the way he wanted. A full press, skin on skin, weight and heat adding to his desire. Foreman worked his left hand out from Amber's skirt and let it join his right on her back. Holding her close, he rolled over, slowly and carefully. There was one warning creak from the bed, but once Amber was lying in the sheets he'd warmed with his body, Foreman sat up on his knees and got his clothes off as fast as possible. The suit jacket he tossed over the desk; he might want to wear it again without visiting a dry-cleaners. The shirt, he nearly tore off, and dropped it on the floor beside the bed with Amber's blouse. He made quick work of his belt buckle, tugging it open and unzipping his pants, shoving them down his legs. As much as he hated to leave Amber even for a moment, he had to stand up to get rid of them completely.

Grinning, Foreman leaned back over Amber slowly. He was half-hard, his cock extending in a thick curve away from his balls, but not yet erect. With one hand on the bed beside Amber's shoulder, Foreman bent down to kiss her, deep and strong. Still kissing her, his blood coursing with excitement, he lowered himself to the bed, until he was pressed half on top of her, her breasts finally pushed against his bare chest, their legs interlocking. Foreman rocked against her gently, kissing her face and throat, before moving back to her lips. "I had a feeling you were thinking about having your way with me," he said quietly, rubbing against her suggestively. "Wanna do something about that?"

Eric could be so obvious. Amber giggled around his tongue. All she had to do was say a few lines about wanting and needing, flash some skin, and kiss like her life depended on it. With just that he was already arching into her as desperately as she, rubbing and sucking like he needed her closer still. He was so easy. Not that she was complaining!

Her hands' path was impeded by his damn shirt, so while she'd have loudly protested being rolled away and abandoned, Amber also understood the necessity. Though her flesh cried out against even this temporary abandonment, her eyes certainly appreciated the distance. Amber propped herself up on her elbows, gazing intensely. It was amazing, how lithe Eric was in so basic a motion as throwing a jacket to the side. They couldn't speak, but Amber mouthed 'rawr' and smiled as he violently did away with his shirt. Yeah, baby. His pecs and abdomen flexed with the movement, clear and beautiful and strong. Her mouth flooded with the memory of Eric's taste; she leaned forward, greedy to kiss that softly glowing skin.

The worst tease, naturally, was the belt buckle. Amber reached out, ready to get the job over with and take his dick through his zipper. She didn't care that not taking their clothes off completely might cause aggravations later: she wanted to touch and lick him now. Just the thought of it, of Eric in her, made her vagina swell with a wet warmth.

Her hand stopped. If they were going to fuck-- and, yes, they would-- they'd need a condom. Christ. By now she knew them well enough to be prepared whenever they met up out of (and at) work, but it hadn't occurred her that they'd go this far in her parent's house. It was almost enough to make her stop. But not enough. Her purse, she always had condoms in there.

She was sorry to miss the best part of Eric's striptease, but it was for the best cause. Amber slipped from off the bed and walked in quiet, wide strides to the mess of bags. It was on top of the first batch she'd brought up and, indeed, there were a couple of condoms stashed in a side pocket. While she was at it, Amber shed her skirt and pulled down her panties.

It took no more than a few seconds. She was significantly colder by the time she got back in bed, but she forgot that as soon as Eric covered her. Amber's hips met Eric's instinctively, grinding hard and slow. His cock rubbed against her pubic hairs, which both pleased and frustrated her; it was almost what she wanted.

"Mmnhhh," she murmured, returning his kiss. Her hands flitted, brushing over his shoulder, his face, his ass. So many options. She didn't know where to start. "Yeah." The mattress gave another squeak with a stronger thrust. She didn't think about it. Her bed had never been noisy before. It wouldn’t be a problem. Amber brought her right hand between them and waved the condom between her fingers. "I've got big plans."

Foreman couldn't help chuckling silently at Amber's mimed bite as he took off his shirt. He was even more eager to get his pants off when she sat up and leaned towards him, her nails scraping his waist lightly while he got his pants open. A moment later, though, she'd climbed out of bed herself. Foreman watched her as he got his pants off, and understood a second later. Condoms, of course. He'd have remembered in a moment, when he was fully hard and ready to slide into her. She was right, now was the better time to prepare. He didn't want to be scrambling through their bags at the last moment, breaking the moment, and the condoms he'd brought were tucked into his toiletries bag, probably buried at the very bottom of the stack.

Once they were back in bed, Foreman closed his eyes at the soft warmth of Amber's skin, pressed against his, from mouths to toes. Kissing her, deeper and more urgently now that he could touch all of her, Foreman smiled warmly at her 'big plans.' He slid his hand down her stomach to her mons, and then went back to the touching that had been interrupted by their clothes. Foreman pressed the heel of his hand against her clit in strong, flexing waves, while his middle finger sought out her entrance and moved inside with each push. God, Amber was wet now, slippery and so hot against his hand. Breathless, Foreman kept kissing her, the back of his mind charting the shivery progress of her hands over his body. The more he thought about the moment when he'd slide his cock inside her, feel Amber's tight heat stroking him, the harder he got. He rocked slow and hard against her hip and stomach, the rubbing pressure sending jolts of pleasure through his balls. "Plans?" he asked, anticipation and desire clenching low in his stomach. "What would those be, exactly?"

Amber dived right back into the kissing, need fueling her. She couldn't not open up to him, gently moving her head as she sought the best angle for deep penetration. Their tongues rubbed against each other just like their bodies, smooth and with so much pleasure. Kissing Eric was so good. Especially when-- she gasped. Closed her eyes, pushed harder against his hand. Fuck. He was in her, touching her, setting her on fire. Amber stilled her voice to keep from moaning, demanding more; he'd give it to her soon, no worries.

She made herself focus enough to drop the condom onto the bed and glide her palm over his ass, squeezing and drawing him harder towards her. "Now now," Amber admonished teasingly. "If I told you, it'd be no fun."

His fingers curling into her had settled it, though. She'd fuck him. Her vagina longed for it, to be filled and stretched; to come as Eric pumped into her. Amber wouldn't wait one more second than necessary. She snaked her hand between their sliding bodies, its progress helped by their increasing slickness, and grasped his dick. It was hot and not nearly hard enough. How familiar he was-- she'd know him by touch alone-- and yet he still turned her on. So strange. "Just follow my lead," she whispered as she tightened her grip over the base of his dick, stroking him with her thumb. Just by touching him Amber grew wetter, had to kiss him harder; he better get ready fast.

There wasn't room in Foreman's mind for anything except Amber, now. He closed his eyes and kissed her as if he could taste all her desire, all her love for him, from the movement of her lips alone. He loved echoing her, kissing the way she'd kissed him first, and then teasing her into following his lead in return. Amber liked fast and deep, but Foreman couldn't help his own need for slow, drawn-out kisses that lasted, that felt like they went on for hours between one breath and the next. Amber pulled him closer, and Foreman went eagerly. God, he was getting closer. If she'd just touch him--

She did. Foreman grunted, breathing heavily. Amber's grip was firm on his erection, her thumb rubbing circling pressure just at the base. "If...you say so," he managed. He pulled his hand away from her and joined it with hers on his cock. With their fingers intertwined, he guided her, pulling firmly on the upstroke, loosening on the down. Pleasure flared hot and immediate, and Foreman panted more heavily. Amber's hand was warm and smooth, and just the idea that they were doing this together was hot enough to make him even harder. Foreman quickened their strokes as he kissed Amber again. He was so turned on, it was easy to deepen the kiss, to demand more and faster. So they were in her parents' house--so what? They were adults, they were in Amber's room, and Jesus, he wanted to be inside her, now.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, Amber, now." The condom was somewhere on the bed. Foreman fumbled for it, found it by the crinkle of the wrapping, and managed to get it open. Kissing her, he pressed it into her hand. It was exciting to watch Amber roll the latex over him, because of just how incredibly gorgeous she looked when she was taking control--of him, of the situation, of her own pleasure. Foreman knew she liked it to, using the opportunity to push him into whatever position she wanted, and this was definitely one decision he was happy to leave to her discretion.

Those damn slow kisses of his. Amber didn't know how he could bear them at a time like this, when she herself was frantic for faster and deeper. Following Eric at his pace, she felt ready to burst. She tried, though. She loved that light, satisfied hum he let out when he was getting what he liked. Forgetting where they were, Amber tried to draw that sound from out of him, mouthing him slow and delicate as if she were dabbing on the final details on a masterpiece.

It was so not fucking enough, though. Her body cried to be touched, nipples and skin tingling with want. Stroking Eric, feeling him grow around her fist, being shoved harder into the bed, only increased Amber's frustration. Her breath came in short and ragged. Her senses were filled with him: his taste flooded her mouth, his scent her nose. Why couldn't he be in her now.

She grabbed the package and tore it open, nearly ripping the condom itself in the process. "Fuck," she muttered. But her nails didn't seem to have run over the latex, so it should be okay. Amber looked back into Eric's eyes and smiled, coy. This was the good part. He'd as good as signed a contract saying the rest was up to her. Hands on his pecs and leg hooking over his, Amber rolled him on to his back. She made a show of sitting and sliding onto his thighs; appreciated the view as long as she was up here. He was all tight, like a slingshot ready to let the rock fly. "You want this?" she whispered, delaying what she had been wanting so much for the pleasure of watching him squirm.

But she wouldn't put this off forever; rubbing her pussy against his thigh wouldn't do for long. Amber positioned the slick, rubbery condom over his erection and rolled downwards, working in a squeeze here and there. "Looks good on you." It did. The red was bright and exciting against his dark skin. Eric could be particular about the colors and wasn't especially happy when Amber brought in neon green and pink condoms. Good for a laugh, but not for a fucking.

He was ready and so was she. Amber let her fingers linger another moment, kneading his balls, before lifting her hips and directing his dick into her. Oh god. "Oh," she let out, her heart stopping. "Ohhhh." Fuck, damn, that felt good. Her heart started up again, galloping. "Eric..."

On his back--he should have known. Breathless, Foreman rolled when Amber pushed him, holding back his chuckle in case it would be too loud. Amber sat on top of him, as triumphant as if she'd pinned him in a wrestling match, her eyes glowing with pleasure and pride. Foreman kept his hand on his dick as she opened the condom, giving himself a few small, nudging strokes, not that he was in any danger of losing his erection. Not with Amber rubbing slickly against his thigh, and the sight of her breasts, her lithe body. "Yeah," he whispered back, his eyes taking in all of her. "Yeah, I want you." His skin was overheating, sweat trickling down his ribs, and Amber was so damn far away. Teasing him. He'd given her the choice, and the fantasy of watching Amber fuck herself on his dick like he was entirely hers, entirely there for her taking, had only grown since the time he'd haltingly asked her to tie him down. But he wanted to hold her, too; feel the rub of her breasts against his chest, warm her back by holding her in his arms. That was as much part of the desire as seeing Amber move on top of him, feeling her envelop him.

He grinned when Amber rolled the condom on, moving his hands to her thighs and massaging. "Not as good as you do," he said, his chest vibrating with silent laughter. She might have walked into that one, but it was true. Foreman would take functional, rather than colourful, condoms any day; but Amber usually supplied them, and he'd accept most things as long as they felt good for her.

He bit his lower lip and stared even harder as she straddled him. With one hand, she held him, and Foreman couldn't help the sharp sound he made when she lowered herself onto him. For a moment, their moans sounded in concert, and Foreman had to consciously draw back from saying anything more. He wanted to answer Amber--God, the way she'd said his name--but wrapped up in hot, tight pleasure or not, he still remembered where they were. Not enough to stop, not nearly enough, but he held back from all the things he wanted to say. He licked his lips, moving restlessly, his hands kneading Amber's thighs, then reaching higher to grasp her ass and pull her down on him, deeper. The sensation rocketed higher, so fucking good. He wanted more, needed it. Clenching his abs, he half-sat up, meaning to kiss her, to touch her in all the places he couldn't reach.

The second he moved, the bed gave a loud, complaining creak that could probably be heard in the next county, let alone in the living room.

"Hah hah," Amber intoned, exaggerating rolling her eyes so that he'd see. But this horny and so close to what she wanted, it'd take more than a bad joke to ruin her mood. And it was flattering. "I'm your best outfit." That brought the wonderful idea of Eric 'wearing' her in public. Now there was an enthralling image.

But not, perhaps, as enthralling as the one before her, of Eric laughing and warm and bright. Amber didn't get to see him this happy nearly often enough. If she weren't so intent on getting the condom on and propping herself, she'd have stroked his face, kissed his cheek.

And then she was sliding on to him and he was so hot and hard Amber barely kept herself from making more sounds. Eric, god, looked as torn as she, his eyes wide and mouth open, unable to let out all the moans she knew were in him. She wasn't sure she could take more and still be silent, but then it was Eric moving things forward, pulling her closer and thrusting up and Amber whimpered. Her gaze caught the flex of his abdomen, the lifting of his shoulders. Yes, that's what they needed, more: she held out her hands, ready to embrace him.

And then the bed gave a creak louder than any noise either one had so far. Jesus, anyone in the house would've heard that. But it was okay. One squeak, that was normal. It could be just someone sitting on the edge. Her bed never had been a problem before. "C'mere," Amber said softly, adamant this not ruin anything. She rocked her hips again. "See, no problem--" She came down harder than before and the bed groaned again. "Fuck," Amber spat out, running her hand through her hair. "I am not stopping," she whispered through gritted teeth. She was wet and ready and they were going to fuck.

Foreman froze in place the second the springs gave them away. Oh, Christ, no. He'd given in because he was pretty certain he could control himself, but neither of them had given a thought to a bed that had to be twenty years old. With a sharp, straining sound in his throat, Foreman leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Amber and pressing his mouth to her collarbone. God, they had to stop. He couldn't--there was always the option of sneaking to the bathroom and jacking off, but that would ruin far more than one moment with Amber. She'd be pissed off at him, both of them would be frustrated, and there was still the possibility he'd run into somebody in the hall with his dick trapped painfully inside his jeans. That wasn't going to work any better than this. Foreman shook his head silently when Amber tried to move again, and the same thing happened. "Not like this," he said tightly. There had to be a way they could keep going without advertising to the whole damn household exactly what they were doing.

Foreman kissed Amber's shoulder. She wasn't going to like his idea. The bed hadn't been a problem before they'd gotten a little more athletic. The way they'd been touching and kissing when they'd started hadn't set off any creaks. So, obviously, they just had to tone it down a little. He took a deep breath, slowly adjusting. Amber felt so good, and the temptation to give in and not care was growing with every second. Even the tiniest movement magnified the sensation, the heat and pleasure extending outwards from where their bodies met. "Amber," he said, kissing her throat and rubbing his hands up and down her back. "Lie down," he said. As long as they were gentle, not trying to test the mattress's limits, they could stop before it squeaked again. "Let me," he said, kissing her again before finishing. "I'll go slow." He twisted his hips slightly, urging her in the direction he wanted, lying down and letting him be on top.

Amber grunted with frustration. Eric's suddenly sitting up didn't make her any less turned on, his dick throbbing thickly in her. And why was he fucking kissing her collarbone if everything else about him indicated he was stopping? His sudden stillness, his paralyzed breath. He was impeding her own movements, holding her to him. They'd see how much the bed creaked when she tore away.

"How then?" Amber whispered vehemently. She couldn't believe her family was ruining even this. This was her bed, her lover. How dare they get this far in her life. How dare Eric let them. She eyed him, watching for signs of further cowardice.

But he didn't stop, not really. After that first moment he eased, his mouth kissing along her skin. Amber sighed, annoyed and confused. They'd just been getting heated up and now it was like they took several steps back. Her nerves were getting all mixed up, starting to coil back from what might be false promises. "If you don't do something soon, I will," she snapped as quietly as she could. Her hands traveled over his back, rubbing along his vertebrae and deltoids. He was hot and sweaty and fuck she wanted him. Their minuscule shifts kept him moving in her, hard as ever. He wanted her too; he couldn't hide it. If she pushed him back down-- or maybe the floor, that wouldn't make noise--

At the sound of her name, Amber gazed into Eric's eyes. He had something in mind, she could tell. Might be better than the cold, rough floor. His kiss was gentle, as were his touches. She moaned with pent-up lust. More heavy petting had better not be the full extent of his plan. She'd go crazy. "Eric," she whined, hips twitching. "Just fuck me." She didn't care how it happened anymore, just as long as she could feel his slide back and forth into her wetness. Her pussy clenched, wanting.

Not quite hearing his words, Amber went along with his flow, ending up on her back. She wrinkled her nose even as she spread her legs, surging back up into him. It was better than nothing. Plus, the bed stayed quiet, even as she rocked. Encouraged, Amber pulled Eric in for a long, deep kiss, sucking on his tongue with all that she had. Yeah, this, this-- she went faster, bucking her hips.

Creeeak. Amber choked. They had to go slow. "I don't know if I can take this," she gasped. How would she come, if they could barely move? "Eric, I need more--" Her eyes squeezed shut, overcome by a wave of desire she couldn't act on. She felt lost at sea, thrown from side to side. "Touch me."

Just fuck me. Christ, Amber knew exactly how to affect him, how to bring him to the very brink of his control. Most of the time Foreman gave in. It was so easy to let Amber take control, to let himself feel everything she wanted to do to him, to answer her every plea with more, and harder, and now. Even when they started slowly, on weekend mornings when they woke up in each other's arms, Amber would quickly overpower Foreman's lazy, indulgent instincts. And God knew he loved it. Loved every second, when he didn't have to worry about being gentle or ensuring that Amber was feeling as much, as strongly, as he was. She told him, with every movement and breath and moan, how turned on she was. How turned on he made her. It was so easy to be with her because she took control, and lose himself in his own pleasure.

"I will," he whispered. "Like this." Amber reluctantly followed his urging, spreading her legs for him as he rolled them both over. His dick slipped out, but with a slow, easy stroke, he slid back inside her. Resting his weight on his elbows, Foreman brushed Amber's hair from her forehead, pushing the damp tendrils away from her temples. He kissed her back, pouring himself into the kiss, into everything she wanted, and let her rub up against him. Amber wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers massaging at the back of his neck, and her kiss was desperate, urgent. When her body matched the pace of the kiss, writhing up, the bed gave another sharp squeak.

"Hey," Foreman said, carefully letting more of his weight rest on Amber, to slow her rocking and to push deeper inside of her. "Amber, look at me." He met her eyes and thrust again, deliberately, going as deep as he could and then pulling out nearly all the way. Amber's eyes closed briefly when she said she couldn't take it, and Foreman pushed in again, hard and strong and so slow. "You can. Just...relax. Relax." God, he hadn't asked her for this, not since he'd gotten used to following her lead, because it was always good and he didn't need to assert himself, but it felt amazing. The friction was all the more tantalizing because of how much he was holding back. His focus narrowed to each instant, each second. He started up an easy rhythm that peaked each time he met Amber fully, and ebbed with each withdrawal. "I want you," he murmured. "Mmn, want to...fuck you slow...feel you come." He wanted so much more than that, but like this, staring into her eyes with each stroke, he could only say that much. He wanted to watch her, wanted to be with her during every second of this. But he knew she wanted more. "Touch yourself," he said, chest heaving for another deep breath. "Come on, Amber honey, touch yourself for me." He dipped his head, kissing her, until his oxygen ran out and he felt light-headed on his own pleasure.

This was the worst sex ever. Amber couldn't but kiss and wrap her limbs around Eric with all her might and hold back her shuddering groans. Each one of Eric's maddeningly slow strokes only made the fire in her worse, burning hotter and hotter. She felt so much. Too much. Eric in so deep, every centimeter stretching her out even as he gently stroked her brow. The overwhelming scent of fucking and sweat and Eric. The delicious slide of their flesh, each brush taking Amber closer and closer but with no end in sight. She squeezed her eyes shut, mouth opening with a silent cry. This was torture.

Relax, hah. What a fucking a joke. How could she when she felt ready to snap. When he dragged his dick in and out of her as slow as he fucking pleased. When he said low and husky exactly what he wanted, driving her further over the edge. Fuck this, fuck him. Amber refused this molasses pace. Taking all she wanted from their kiss, sucking without abandon, Amber snuck her hand over her mons, her lips. She was so, so wet. Almost too wet to get any traction, fingers slipping clumsily over her clit. And it was hard to time her strokes with Eric's, her knuckles and his pelvis meeting at irregular moments. "Unnhh,” she grit out.

But with two fingers working her clit and her left hand pinching at her nipple, Amber sighed with relief. This would get her somewhere and soon. That at that intense way he stared at her as if enraptured. By her. Fuck, she loved it when he looked at her like that, it made all the frustration worth it.

Amber was so close, it was just a question of a few concentrated touches and then-- "E, Eric--" Oh god, oh fuck. She latched on to his mouth, taking in his air to keep from getting any louder because god she wanted to and really couldn't stop herself from doing anything at this point. It was so good, so fucking good, to feel her pussy squeezing all around his dick, and to have him in her arms, with his soft, soft pants echoing in her ears. Amazing. "Ngghhh," Amber couldn't keep back, shuddering.

November 28th, 2007 - Wednesday

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