scots_wolf | RP post: Saffron

"Oh yes," he gasps. "I do! What a great thing to do with fruit."

She wriggles to straddle him just so, grinding down to let the tip of him slide between her folds, teasing them both for just a few moments longer.

"It's the least I can do," she says, whispering the words against his mouth, shuddering slightly as she resists the urge to guide him inside her, to feel his cock buried deep.

"The very least."

Urquhart gasps. His hips buck against her, trying to find his way inside in some way.

Any way.

She is so very good at this!

She rolls, spreading out onto her back, red hair fanning out in long curls over the rug, and pulls him over her, to bear down with his weight.

She wants him to cover her, to surround her, and her pale legs lash around his waist as she whispers against his lips how badly she wants him inside.

He complies; he angles himself and pushes down, plowing through her folds until he finds the entrance to her body, and slides inside.

He moans, deeply, with the pleasure of all this.

She arches her back, her moan practically ripped out of her when he thrusts deep, her limbs draping around his body like she's clinging for dear life.

She knows how to fake her reactions, to lie there and pretend to enjoy it. She never has to do that here, with him. Everything is real, from the way her body bows underneath him to the breathy whimpers that escape her, soft and high.

Urquhart is proud of being able to please a woman, to give as good as he gets, so she'll be back for more or tell all her friends.

He bends to kiss her, deeply and greedily, his mouth wandering down from her lips and over her throat, while he starts thrusting, slowly, deeply, rhythmically.

Meanwhile, she's thinking the exact same thing: this will be so good for him he won't be able to do anything but come back.

One of her hands clutches at his back, the other cupping the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of his hair, moaning audibly, and her hips snap upward to meet his, matching his rhythm easily.

While there are many interesting men and women for them each, there is something extra about Saffron that makes Urquhart want to come back again and again. She keeps surprising, exciting, arousing him.

His thrusts speed up, just a little, and he bends his spine more so he may kiss her breasts. His knees slide forwards so she is lifted, just a little, into his lap, and he thrusts forwards as well as down, pushing against the area in the lower front of her opening, which women especially like.

He bends over again, to kiss her breasts and lick her nipples.

He's equally fascinating in his own way: the sheer amount of strength that resides in him, the fact that he could very well unleash it at any moment, but also the way in which he knows how to be subtle, slow, gentle, apply just the right amount of force in exactly the right places. It's a difficult art, but one that spending time as a woman seems to have helped him master.

He hoists her into his lap and she allows him to maneuver her there, his thrusts quick and shallow and hitting that place deep inside that forces more sounds out of her, low and loud, almost primal in nature. She welcomes him to her breasts, her fist tightening in his hair.

"So good," she cries, voicing her approval. "Don't stop."

"I am not planning to," he chuckles against her breasts. "Ever, if possible!"

He keeps thrusting, slow and steady.

She buries her nose against his hairline, breathing in soft pants over his forehead, slowing her movements down to match his.

He knows how to draw out the sensations, just as she does; she can feel the heat slowly building low inside her.

Anybody else would speed up now; Urquhart forces himself to slow down. She's getting there anyway, now; and the slower it gets, the sweeter it will be for her in the end.

She drapes her body over his, wills herself to slow, even as she breathes hard against his ear.

She can feel the familiar coil building inside her, ready to spring loose at any moment, unexpected and unrelenting, and her fingertips dig into his back as she muffles her moans against his broad shoulder, biting down.

Urquhart is leaning on his elbows, over her but keeping his weight off her, his hands gently holding her shoulders as he thrusts and thrusts, deeply, slowly, strongly.

And watching her face. Just seeing her pleasure is sensual beyond words.

Her eyes are closed, her lips parted in a maxim of pleasure, her small frame trembling and shuddering underneath his larger one as she nears her edge.

She draws him in to cover her, to anchor her down, and in a short number of thrusts, she comes, her body quivering, clenching from her core to the tips of her fingers and toes, the sensations drawn out as he continues to thrust into her, prolonging her crest.

He keeps going, beyond what seems comfortable, because that's at the core of what he learned from Tanya.

Women can keep coming. They don't shut down like men do.

He feels his own climax approach, and tries to draw it out a little bit longer, so she'll feel that amazing full-body meltdown a little bit longer, too.

She can already feel a second climax building the moment the first one falters, the product of what he's learned. Her hand bunches up the rug beneath them in her fist, hips bucking helplessly.

She's uncontrollable, an unstoppable force, practically seeing sunbursts behind her eyelids as her body tenses again and then, in an instant, releases, a scream rising up to spill out of her lips as she arches back to send the sound to the ceiling.

That shout, and her movements with it, bring him over the edge within moments.

He feels himself spill inside her, gives a deep, protracted groan, and keeps going as long as he can, managing two more thrusts before he is spent.

He just hangs there, over her, unsteady on his elbows, panting, still not pulling out.

Then, he collapses onto his side, turns onto his back, and pulls her with him.

She winds up sprawled over him, her cheek resting on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart as it slowly steadies back to a normal rhythm.

"That was - "

For a minute, she can't come up with the word, and then nuzzles his chest, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"I'm glad you're putting what you've learned to good use," Saffron murmurs.

For somebody as big and strong and dangerous as Urquhart, he is remarkably comfortable to curl up with.

He sprawls, enjoying the feel of that amazing woman, exhausted in his arms because of the pleasure he gave her.

"I'm glad you approve," he murmurs back.

She rests her chin against his chest, her head moving up and down slowly as his chest rises and falls with his breathing.

She stretches then, luxuriously, like a cat just before it settles in to relax, curling her toes against his leg.

"Mmm, why wouldn't I? You've never not met my approval, xin gan."

"Good," Urquhart says.

He tries to give his best, offer variety. While women in his time were often grateful for just a plain orgasm, Saffron probably knows the finest pleasures of many worlds, and Urquhart likes to live up to them.

She sighs contentedly, pressing a series of open-mouthed kisses to the breadth of his chest.

"Good," she echoes, crawling up his body until her face is hovering over his and she can lower herself to give him a searing kiss.

Urquhart takes her into his arms, stroking her bare back, her lovely hips. He lifts his head a little, in kissing her back with equal fervour.

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