songofsong | AU } Maybe in another life, we wouldn't be alone tonight

There's something in the way she laughs that he finds utterly thrilling. He can't pin it down, can barely recognise it's there, but he knows he wants her, and knows with each passing moment he wants her even more.

With his urgency to open her blouse, one of the buttons pops off in the process, but he doesn't care or notice, he'd gladly rip every shred from her if she'd let him.

The fabric now freed, he lets his hand pull back from her bra, hurried movements shoving her blouse back from her shoulders, her cardigan falling with it too, letting her do the rest as it slides along her arms. Both hands then around her, hurriedly working on the bra clasp that comes quickly free (it's not his first bra). Only then as it slips away does he allow his lips to stop their trail against her skin, his head drawing back a little to look down at her newly exposed body. One hand reaches to grasp about one of her breasts, and he lets out a slight hiss of a breath.

"Oh you've got incredible tits," he tells her.

She gives a small gasp of surprise when she realises one of the buttons has popped off her her blouse, part of her about to start looking for it, thankfully a bigger part of her realising its insignificance. Insignificance to the fact that he was taking off said blouse, and everything else.

Her arms pull to free themselves from the clothing, it soon fluttering to the desk behind her. Barely a second passes and he's working at her bra, and she's almost dizzy with how fast everything is progressing. To go from no touch at all, to all this, is almost too much to bear. She gasps and tries to focus herself, realising soon enough that her bra is now gone too and she looks down to find him gripping at her breast.

"Oh, God," she manages to utter under her breath, her eyes lifting to look up at him again, staring at him with something akin to wonder, before she launches forward off the desk, grabbing at the shirt he's wearing and making quick work of it, yanking it up and over his head.

Edited 2014-09-17 22:07 (UTC)

The spurt of her action has him feeling almost vindicated. A smirk spreads across his face as he shifts, lifting his arms for her to make light work of his tshirt.

"Oh I knew it," he says, mostly to himself. He knew she wasn't all gentle and uncertain. He sees a fire in her, in those eyes, she controls it well perhaps, but it's there.

"I'm gong to fuck you so hard, you know that?" he promises, stepping back against her once more, pushing her back again to the table. His hand reaches back to grasp for her breast once more, the touch hardly gentle as his head lowers and lips close around her nipple, tongue flicking eagerly over the skin. There's a noise, almost a groan, and his head pulls back a little.

"God these are amazing," he mumbles. "I want to come on these. Come so hard all over your tits." His head lifts again, eyes on hers, a glint in his own. "If you'll let me."

Her hands fall to rest on the heat of his bare back, on which she can still feel the damp of his shirt. Her grip tightens as he speaks, her breaths still shaking and her eyes a little wide. She's never been touched like this, never been spoken to like this, and it's so exhilarating, so wrong, that it's dizzying.

She moans breathlessly as his mouth devours her breast, her hand coming up to grip the back of his head, holding him to her as her body shifts needfully against the desk behind her.

"Y-you.. you really want to do that?" she mumbles through a gasp, her thoughts sidetracked by visions of everything he says, hardly able to keep up with what's happening.

"Oh you bet I do," he confirms. "God I'm so hard just thinking about it."

He looks at her, his eyes down to watch his hand as it kneads her breast between his fingertips, clearly enjoying the task, but equally mindful that she does too.

"What would you like?" he asks quietly. "Do you want to go to the bed? Do you want my head between your legs? Do you want me to fuck you? You tell me."

It's her opportunity, he won't shove her on the bed and get carried away, he remembers how she said it had been a long time, he remembers how uncertain and nervous she seemed. Even if she doesn't answer, he has to give her the chance.

Her lips move, but it takes a moment before words come out. Of all those options, she goes for the smallest step, wanting to take it slowly. As slowly as one could when half naked and pinned against a desk in a Travelodge.

"Let's go to the bed," she says, because that's something she can understand, get to grips with. It's a place to start, and then they can see what happens next. His other options, well, maybe they'll come later. Including the one he has his mind set on. She might need another drink before that happens.

"Gladly," he says before stepping back from her with a smile. He doesn't take his hands from her though, not at first at least, his palm sliding along her side before he moves to let her get to the bed.

A step back and if she should look at the crotch of his already rather tight jeans, the bulge there should be obvious, his body pressing against the fabric, eager for release. He keeps a step away, letting her settle as she wishes, watching her all the while.

From his pocket he pulls one of the condoms he retrieved from the machine earlier, and sets the packet down on the small wooden bedside plinth.

When he pulls away from her, she finally feels like she can breathe again. She stands there, drinking in air like he'd been keeping it from her, it seeming to cease the whirling of her head, or maybe that's because he's not stood so close to her. Apart, she can look at him properly, see him in his entirety, stood there with his shirt off, and his jeans leaving very little to the imagination. But it's not just him she sees now. It's everything.

With another deep breath, she pushes herself slightly forward so she's no longer perched on the desk, her eyes wandering down and offhandedly noticing her button on the carpet. But it's that that seems to settle everything in her mind, and she slowly looks up at him again, seeing the way he's watching her.

It does things to her, things that terrify her, and that's how part of her feels right now. And that's wrong, she doesn't want to be scared, not of him, not of this. But it's all so much, too much even, and for as much as she wants to ignore that voice in her head, she can't.

Swallowing, Melody begins to shake her head slightly looking around the room and all it represents.

"I'm sorry," she begins quietly, frowning, almost disappointed in herself. "I.. This. This isn't me."

For a moment, James looks shocked. But shock just as quickly gives way to an expression that's more guilt.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks, his expression full of concern.

"No! No," she's quick to say, quick to relieve him of any blame. She doesn't want him to think he's done anything he shouldn't, or forced her here in any way. She made a choice, she's just not so sure if it was the right one.

"You haven't done anything wrong." Her head shakes, and she takes a small step forward towards him, so he can see that. "It's just me. I'm not.." she hesitates, trying to explain herself without sounding foolish, but she thinks that's a given so she carries on with a sigh. "I'm not very good at things like this."

Not the sex part, she's fairly sure she's ok at that part, given the feedback. But she's not so good at leaving emotions at the door, particularly not the guilty ones.

He doesn't quite understand, and he looks over her, still concern in his eyes.

"Good at what?" he asks. He doesn't know what she's expecting of herself, but he thinks maybe it's too much. "Melody..." he sighs. "You don't have to do anything. If you've changed your mind, that's up to you. I just wanted you to have a good night. I think we all deserve that every now and then."

Her lips part to speak, but instead she just sighs, because as far as she's concerned, either way, she's ruined everything. She runs a hand through her hair, making those wild curls ever wilder, and she shakes her head slowly as she tries to reply.

"No, I know. And you're right. I guess I'm just not very good at giving myself a break." She smiles somewhat uncertainly, shrugging her shoulders at herself. She's not a woman who knows how to let go, how to take risks. She's never been able to, she's lived for her son, worked to keep them safe and happy, now he's gone, she's carrying on that same old routine, but with nobody benefitting from it. Not even her.

"It's okay to relax, you know," he tells her as though perhaps she really might not.

He shifts a little, and looks to the side, noting her cardigan discarded nearby. He turns towards it, holding out so that she might drape it about her. He doesn't want her to feel uncomfortable, and he'll do all he can to prevent that.

"Do you want to just talk?" he asks.

She looks down as he hands her the cardigan, taking it in her hands. She smiles gratefully at the sentiment, but she doesn't move to wrap it about her. If anything, she's actually quite comfortable being naked around him. It's everything else she needs a little help with.

"Oh, I don't know," she murmurs, absently picking a stray piece of fluff off the fabric. "I'll probably bore your ear off."

Her response brings about a new frown, and he shakes his head a little.

"It's not going to work, you know," he tells her. "You're not going to convince me that you're someone I should find boring or something. Because I don't. You're not. I asked you here because I wanted to spend the night with you. So yeah, I want you to talk. Talk my ear off, talk both of them off, then put them back on and do it again. I'll listen gladly."

She laughs slightly when he says that, still finding it rather difficult to believe. But he insists, and so she has to.

"Well," she begins, opening her arms either side of her before she trudges forward to go and sit on the bed. If they're going to talk, let's talk. "I wasn't lying when I said it had been a while. My last relationship didn't end too well." If she was honest, none of them did.

As she starts to talk, he takes that as invitation, and moves over, sitting on the bed and dragging himself up onto it, crossing his legs under him.

"How long?" he asks with gentle curiosity. He wouldn't usually ask, but given she's broached the topic, he feels perhaps it's okay.

She's not so surprised he's asked that question, and it makes her smile wryly to herself, because surely the answer will make him baulk. "Almost three years now."

Perhaps now it wasn't so surprising why she was so conflicted.

Three years. That's as long as he's existed. As long as James has, at least. He doesn't remember further back, though he wishes he did. His head dips a moment, and then lifts once more.

"Let me guess, just too busy? Or a bit easier if you're keeping people at arm's length?"

"A little bit of both, I suppose," she says, shrugging her shoulders gently as she looks down. "A little bit of something else too." She knows she has her problems, and in all of her relationships, it's been a factor of the break up. Some worse than others, some lasting longer than others. She'd really thought her last relationship was the one, and it had ended in heart break.

"Something else?" he asks gently. He figures she wouldn't have brought it up if she didn't want him to, after all.

"You know you're not alone," he tells her, feeling that perhaps it might help if she's not the only one opening up. "Finding someone who actually gives a shit isn't always as easy as it sounds."

Melody chuckles slightly, but it's a sad sound, and one that doesn't sit right on her. "Oh, I know," she says, for she's realised that time and time again, everytime she's left on her own again. "That's the problem. People say they care about you, that they'd do anything for you, but when it really matters, they just let you down."

"Well I won't let you down," he says gently, reaching out a finger and playfully poking her against her arm. He shoots her a gentle smile, and lets his hand settle down on the bed, close to hers, fingers just a breath from fingers.

"I think you just need to be reminded how great you are."

She rocks just gently as though the poke had been far harder, and she looks back at him with a small smirk. The fact he's listened to her, is something. Being able to say words she's been unable to get off her chest for years. She's grateful for that, and somewhat surprised that someone so young could be so grown up about it.

"Yeah?" she asks at his words, raising her eyebrows slightly and smiling. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" She has her suspicions, which makes her bump her shoulder just gently into his in returned teasing.

Her shoulder against his brings about a wry smile. Knowing.

"Well, I've got an idea or two," he tells her. There's a pause though, before he goes on, "And I know it's not everything. Not going to pretend it is. But you know it can't half be a lot of fun."

And this time it's his turn to nudge her by the shoulder.

He goes on, playful, teasing. "And you know I'm really quite good at it."

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