Post by Willie Barbary on Oct 30, 2008 0:29:00 GMT -5
Willie came awake very slowly. That tended to happen when one was utterly and completely tuckered out. And that tended to happen when one just spent the past eight hours indulging in a marathon of rough, hot sex with a man who very much deserved his rank in a special-ops team.
She'd been very right about one thing. Miller really had rocked her world to hell and back.
Her eyes slowly cracked open, taking in her surroundings with somewhat bleary, exhausted vision. The room--which had been immaculate before they fell into it earlier--was an absolute wreck. Objects that had been sitting on his desk and dresser were scattered haphazardly all over the floor, their clothes tossed this way and that, most of the covers save for the sheet currently wrapped around them long since shoved off and forgotten in a heap.
She lay curled up into his side at present, her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder with that arm draped across her bare back. The tips of those "made me scream like a drugged-up slave-girl" fingers trailing slow, gentle swirly patterns across her shoulder-blades. Which meant he was already awake.
Willie swallowed the huge lump suddenly lodged in her throat as the reality of morning hit her full in the face. Mind-blowing sex was all good and all . . . but what happened now? To say that things could get extremely complicated and awkward from this juncture was a massive understatement. The simple facts were that they barely knew each other. Hell . . . Willie had let him do things to her last night she hadn't even thought about with anyone else, and she didn't even know his full name. For some reason, that suddenly made her want to cry.
Willie suddenly tensed, then sat up and rolled over, getting to her feet. She snatched up one of the discarded sheets to wrap around herself before she turned back to him. Miller didn't say or do anything to try to stop her, remained right where he was laying prone, the arm he hadn't had wrapped around her tucked behind his head. The sheet was draped somewhat haphazardly over his waist, leaving all of that lithe pale-skinned muscle bare. Which now sported more than one angry-red scratch, hickey and bite-mark.
Willie felt her face start to heat up to boiling levels under his calm, brown-eyed stare. Especially as it was completely unaccusatory and gentle, as he seemed to wait silently to see how she would react. Leaving the next few moments utterly up to her. Willie could almost hate him for that. Almost.
"Ah . . . listen," she started, falling back on the one thing that never failed her--her big mouth. "Um . . . not for nothing, last night was . . . well . . ." Despite herself, her eyes went a little dreamy and she sighed with a soft chuckle, "really amazing . . . " Then she snapped back to herself with a scowl. "But that's it. That kind of thing can't happen again. On-ship romances never work, did you know that? They always end up blowing up in your face and then you have months of angry fighting and squabbling and then years of uncomfortable awkwardness and---stop looking at me like that!" she finally burst out desperately, her eyes watering.
To his credit, Miller didn't immediately denounce her as a complete, psycho spaz. His eyebrow lifted though, obviously confused. "Like how?"
"Like you want me to jump you again," she whimpered. "Like you want me to stay." Her lip quivered. "I don't even know your first name," she finished then in a hoarse whisper.
Miller gave a slow, small smile. "It's Randolph," he provided, then winced. "But I hate it almost as much as you hate Willona. I don't like Dolph, either. Or Randy. My parents call me Randy. I hate it."
Willie hesitated for a moment longer, shifting her weight, trying to make up her mind. Miller still didn't make a move to try and influence her decision either way, other than stare at her steadily with those hot, gentle brown eyes. Finally Willie surrendered the fight, dropping the sheet back at her feet before crawling back into the bed.
Miller curled his arms around her immediately, pulling her down and then rolling her beneath him, mouth sealing over hers again hungrily.
She'd been very right about one thing. Miller really had rocked her world to hell and back.
Her eyes slowly cracked open, taking in her surroundings with somewhat bleary, exhausted vision. The room--which had been immaculate before they fell into it earlier--was an absolute wreck. Objects that had been sitting on his desk and dresser were scattered haphazardly all over the floor, their clothes tossed this way and that, most of the covers save for the sheet currently wrapped around them long since shoved off and forgotten in a heap.
She lay curled up into his side at present, her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder with that arm draped across her bare back. The tips of those "made me scream like a drugged-up slave-girl" fingers trailing slow, gentle swirly patterns across her shoulder-blades. Which meant he was already awake.
Willie swallowed the huge lump suddenly lodged in her throat as the reality of morning hit her full in the face. Mind-blowing sex was all good and all . . . but what happened now? To say that things could get extremely complicated and awkward from this juncture was a massive understatement. The simple facts were that they barely knew each other. Hell . . . Willie had let him do things to her last night she hadn't even thought about with anyone else, and she didn't even know his full name. For some reason, that suddenly made her want to cry.
Willie suddenly tensed, then sat up and rolled over, getting to her feet. She snatched up one of the discarded sheets to wrap around herself before she turned back to him. Miller didn't say or do anything to try to stop her, remained right where he was laying prone, the arm he hadn't had wrapped around her tucked behind his head. The sheet was draped somewhat haphazardly over his waist, leaving all of that lithe pale-skinned muscle bare. Which now sported more than one angry-red scratch, hickey and bite-mark.
Willie felt her face start to heat up to boiling levels under his calm, brown-eyed stare. Especially as it was completely unaccusatory and gentle, as he seemed to wait silently to see how she would react. Leaving the next few moments utterly up to her. Willie could almost hate him for that. Almost.
"Ah . . . listen," she started, falling back on the one thing that never failed her--her big mouth. "Um . . . not for nothing, last night was . . . well . . ." Despite herself, her eyes went a little dreamy and she sighed with a soft chuckle, "really amazing . . . " Then she snapped back to herself with a scowl. "But that's it. That kind of thing can't happen again. On-ship romances never work, did you know that? They always end up blowing up in your face and then you have months of angry fighting and squabbling and then years of uncomfortable awkwardness and---stop looking at me like that!" she finally burst out desperately, her eyes watering.
To his credit, Miller didn't immediately denounce her as a complete, psycho spaz. His eyebrow lifted though, obviously confused. "Like how?"
"Like you want me to jump you again," she whimpered. "Like you want me to stay." Her lip quivered. "I don't even know your first name," she finished then in a hoarse whisper.
Miller gave a slow, small smile. "It's Randolph," he provided, then winced. "But I hate it almost as much as you hate Willona. I don't like Dolph, either. Or Randy. My parents call me Randy. I hate it."
Willie hesitated for a moment longer, shifting her weight, trying to make up her mind. Miller still didn't make a move to try and influence her decision either way, other than stare at her steadily with those hot, gentle brown eyes. Finally Willie surrendered the fight, dropping the sheet back at her feet before crawling back into the bed.
Miller curled his arms around her immediately, pulling her down and then rolling her beneath him, mouth sealing over hers again hungrily.