||[May. 2nd, 2004|09:08 pm]
So they were shell collecting, I believe, and Franka was headed for a nap. Andy, being the gentlemen he is, walks her back to the house, and when they get there, she tugs him toward the guest bedroom. Andy's a bit confused, but Franka's got this little smile on her face. She pulls both his hands, leaning back, and he's got to catch her by the waist to keep her from falling over backwards. Franka's laughing, bright and clear and happy, and Andy's never seen her like this, not at Lord's, not anywhere.|
And he's dipping her, cradling her in his arms; she looks at him, twines her arms up around his neck, and there's no doubt in his mind that she knows what she's doing, that she wants this. And, though he's never allowed himself to consider it before, Andy wants this. Her.
He slides his left hand down along her back, the soft worn cotton of her shirt rustling, which is just nice on her sun warmed skin, and he moves across her hip, underneath, until he hooks his arm under her knees, sweep, scooping her up in his arms and it would all be so cliche if it weren't for her breathless laughter and her hooded gaze, and this is all so very real.
The bed's close, too close of course for any need to carry Franka, but that's beside the point. Andy dips again to settle her on the mattress, and her arms fall loose above her head, knees parting slightly. She's gorgeous. She's still got that smile, that look, and Andy's an inch away from asking is this okay? when she reaches for him.
She winds her hand around his tie and tugs not-so-gently, until Andy gives in, falls, bracing himself on his hands above her. Franka's thigh's are warm, gentle pressure on his hips, and it's almost too much to believe. Franka leans up, jerks slightly on his tie (enough to get his attention, though it certainly hadn't gone anywhere), and presses a soft kiss the corner of Andy's mouth. She's still grinning, the tease, as she mirrors the kiss on his other check, tiny little pecks until Andy's flushed, driven to near distraction.
He turns his head, catches her mouth with his own, full lips curved and parted slighty; he runs his tongue along the seam, asking silent permission. Her lips part beneath the pressure, and Andy angles deeper, sliding his tongue along her palette, tasting sea air and Franka, meeting her tongue and curling, twisting, until he draws a moan from her.
The hand on his tie slackens, but he doesn't retreat, only pushes further, letting himself sink onto the mattress, onto her. And it's easy and soft, the curve of her breasts pressing against his chest, and the cradle of her thighs holding him. He's half-hard, and he rolls his hips slightly, just letting her feel, know this is because of her. For her.
Franka sighs, lifts her pelvis to meet his, both her hands coming up to wrap around his neck, and he feels her fingers twisting in his curls, little tugs that make him hum with pleasure. He grows more adventurous, nipping at her bottom lip, distracting her (only not), as he slides his hand up her hip, slipping underneath her shirt. He brushes his thumb along the contours of her ribs, one by one, so soft beneath his touch. The edges of her ribs rise and sharpen when her breath hitches, her stomach hollowing beautifully, and she surrenders for a moment as Andy steals her breath, sealing her mouth with lips and tongue.
(captnobvious: see i would comment, but i'm busy falling in love)
Andy pulls back slighty, watches her eyelashes tangle and cross as she blinks, slowly, eyes widening and darkening and fixed on him. "Please," barely a whisper, but Andy can't resist. He presses kisses along her jaw, to her earlobe, sucking it between his lips, then flicking his tongue along the shell, and Franka turns her head, giving him room, rubbing her cheek against the pillowcase that probably cost a week's worth of food, but she wasn't thinking about that right know.
He draws his tongue down along the curve of her neck, arched and inviting, following her collarbone, the V of her shirt, planting a kiss on her breastbone. His fingertips slip beneath the cup of her bra to find the soft flesh of her breast, and he grins against her skin when he hears her sigh. Andy moves lower, taking an edge of cotton between his lips, slipping the top shirt button free with his teeth.
One, two buttons eased apart, and Andy nudges Franka's stomach with his nose, inhaling the scent of her. Three, four, more buttons until the fabric slips away, and he looks up her from under lowered lashes, chin resting below her belly button. He can feel Franka's shallow breathing, sliding his cheek across her stomach, and then he feels her wriggle, twisting her shoulders, trying to shrug off her shirt. Andy curves his hands around her shoulders and she arches up into him, letting him slide his hands along her arms, bunching fabric as he goes, until she's free and he tosses the shirt aside.
Franka, clever girl that she is, unsnapped her bra, making it all too easy for Andy to curl his fingers under the straps and ease it away; and the sight of her full breasts, nipples flushed and budding, sends shivers through Andy.
He dips his tongue into her belly button, swirling in the tight pucker of flesh, and it makes her giggle, high-pitched and breathless. He tucks his fingers inside the hem of her skirt (catching her panties, too), and almost before he tugs, she's lifting her hips for him, and he has to pull away to draw the clothing away - knuckles grazing thigh and knee and calf. She's spread out on the bed, one arm stretched above her head and knees slightly bent, and she's utterly beautiful.
Andy watches her, holds Franka's gaze as he pulls at his ties, loosening it, and then he's able to shed shirt and shoes and trousers and pants, his erection bobbing free.
She raises her eyebrows appreciatively, and Andy crawls back onto the bed, on all fours above her, dipping his head to catch her mouth in a kiss. She makes a muffled sound of pleasure as he licks at the inside of her cheek, along the edge of her teeth, exploring every crevice. He retreats to suckle her bottom lip, feeling the flesh blossom as he scrapes his teeth across.
He pulls away, though it's difficult when Franka whimpers, and all he wants to do is kiss her, learn all the things that will coax those sounds out of her. Andy settles on his right side next to her, leaning his head on his hand, the warmth of her skin radiating, heating him inside and out. His cock presses against her hip and she shifts against him. "Shh," Andy mumurs. "Close your eyes."
And she does, twitching for a moment until he lays his hand on her stomach, and then she stills.
Andy circles his hand, palming the curve of her waist, her ribs, her breast, thumbing her nipple into a hard point, and Franka doesn't open her eyes, but a little moan escapes. He continues, tracing circles and nameless figures with palm and fingertips until he's sure her skin is tingling, until he can feel her thrumming. Only then does he move further down, feeling her soft thatch of curls, to slip a finger into the wet folds of flesh, and Franka nearly jumps when he brushes her clit, she's so sensitive.
Her eyes fly open then, and she reaches for him, her hands sliding across his chest and arms, grasping, wanting, needing. Andy eases away; she's on the edge, and he wants to keep her there for now. Now that they're here, there's so much that he wants to do with her, for her, and this is just the beginning.
He curls his hand around her hip and rolls onto his back, bringing her with him. Franka looks at him, puzzled for a moment, and Andy brushes the hair out of her face, tucks it behind her ear. He holds her wrist in his hand, bringing it to his mouth. He kisses the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse pound against his tongue. He worries the skin with teeth and tongue, until the blood rises to the surface; until Franka gasps and shakes her head blindly. Andy pauses, but then she whimpers; it's all just too much for her, the teasing, and she's ready now.
Andy cups the back of her head in his hand, kisses her forehead. "C'mon, pet." He guides her up, and she's already shaking as she lifts her leg to straddle his chest. Andy's right hand settles on her hip, grasping reflexively, and there are little marks blooming already. He curls his left hand around his cock, smearing pre-come across the head, and then Franka's hand is joining his, weaving her fingers between his and squeezing gently. Andy groans, a tight sound in his throat, because Franka knows what she's doing, and she wants this now. She twists her wrist, brushing her knuckles against Andy's, and the rush of pulsing heat is too much for him now, and his hand slips away, just enough energy to curl around her hip.
The next thing Andy knows is Franka holding him, sinking down onto him, heat and wet and muscle enveloping him, and he can't help but grasp at her hips as she keens above him. He lifts his hips, and Franka's rolling, undulating, over him, and they find a rhythm like the waves they were riding through this morning, crashing against the horses' legs and soaking their clothes with spray and sea foam.
And they're crashing again, against and with one another, touch and sound rolling into a crescendo; Andy's eyes close to block out the overwhelming sensations, but he forces them open to see Franka, to see her mouth parted in an 'o' and her muscles corded and straining beautifully as she stretches around him.
Andy rocks into her, entranced by the moans and sighs slipping unguarded from Franka's lips. He's never seen her like this, and he wonders how many people have, with how many people she's let her guard down, and he feels a pang of empathy, verging on sadness, because he's sure there hasn't been enough, and she deserves to be loved, to be able to be free.
Franka's breathing is shallow and hitched, the scoop of her hips deepening, and Andy slides his hand along her hip, slips his thumb lower to rub against her clit, and in moments, a matter of strokes, Franka's clenching tight around him, crying out, and Andy feels the spangle of heat and pressure and he lets go, the ripples of her orgasm coaxing his.
He arches, muscles spasming hard, and then he's completely boneless, and Franka's drooping above him, panting and soft. Andy wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her down, gathering her to him. He kisses her temple, a damp sheen of sweat from sex and sun, and she rubs her nose against his chin, humming contentedly. Andy caresses her arms, basking in the sleepy afterglow, curled into Franka and feeling her hands wind around his back. Legs tangle and twine, and between small kisses, small touches, they drift off in the heat of the Mexico sun.