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

As he nears, her eyes fall closed, just in time to feel his lips press to hers. There's something better about this, something right about it, and it resonates with her far more than their previous behaviour. There's a familiarity to it that she can't explain, but all she knows is that she wants more, more of this.

With a soft sound, her hand lifts to settle against the side of his face, beginning to encourage the kiss herself. She's more confident now, able to take some control of her own, and what's more, she wants to.

It's strange. As his lips touch hers it feels almost familiar. It feels like something he knows, yet not anything that makes any sense. He pays it no mind, like all those important things he never does.

It's hard not to get carried away with it, and he almost has to hold himself back. Yet even with that, his lips part, deepening the kiss a little. The backs of his fingers stroke back along her neck, falling down slightly as he leans in further against her, close as his kiss grows, deepens. His body feels reawakened, and his trousers constrict once again as his tongue gently rolls against hers, another deepening to the kiss.

She makes a noise of approval as the kiss deepens, it seeming to give her all the encouragement she needs. She presses towards him in turn, her hands moving to rest against the back of his head. It all becomes a little more needful, and she doesn't hold back as she feels his tongue press against hers, returning every touch.

She can feel how his hand wanders, and her body arches slightly towards him, anticipating that touch finding its way across her skin once more.

Kissing her still, he leans her back a little more, coaxing her further onto the bed, further back to lie down. His fingers drift lower, curled, and brush against the edge of her breast, a gentle touch before his whole hand carefully curves around her soft skin, palming her breast as he moans gently against her lips.

The kiss pauses, if only for a moment, his breath hot and heavy. He presses his forehead to hers and smiles. "You have soft lips," he tells her quietly, a touch of a smile audible in his voice. His eyes glance down a moment, looking at her breast against his palm, gripping just a little, brushing his thumb over her nipple as if to test the reaction, eyes back to her to see just what it might be.

She easily follows the recline of her body, her back meeting the bed beneath her. Relaxing underneath him, she sighs at the attentive touch of his fingers, the kiss softening for just a moment. His words make her smile and her eyes open to watch the expression on his face.

"Yeah?" she asks softly, taking a deeper breath when she feels his thumb graze over her nipple, her body shifting just gently. Slowly, her head moves towards his again, this time pressing her lips to his lips, then along the side of his face, letting him feel those lips move further, along the strong shape of his jaw and into the shadow of his neck.

If he were going to reply, the touch of her lips, drifting as they do, stalls that. Instead of words, he lets out an echo of a moan, one that makes him grasp at her breast a little harder. He can't help but have it cross his mind just what else she could do with those lips.

Shifting a little on the bed, his hand falls from her breast as her lips drift his skin. Fingers slip along to her waist and down along the edge of her skirt.

"Can I touch you?" he whispers, mindful still not to do anything without her say.

"If you like," she replies, a hint of humour twisted in her voice, but still some of that uncertainty, that disbelief that he even wants to. But she's steadily being proven wrong.

Her confirmation makes him smile, and his hand settles on her thigh, slipping upwards and under her skirt. He doesn't waste time in bringing his touch between her legs, still over her underwear and tights as he rubs his fingers against her, knowing how close he is, knowing the delicacy of the skin just a short layer away.

Perhaps it's a good thing that the layers remain between them, because just on that touch alone, Melody gasps, her back arching instinctively into his fingers, of which somehow still feels so pronounced. A hand comes up to grip at his shoulder, needing to hold on somehow as her body shifts again without quite meaning to.

As his hand moves against her he can't help but press his hips towards her a little, the pressure there tight and desperate for more. His touch doesn't last long as it is, though, needing so much more. His fingers move once again, drifting back higher and curling around the edge of her tights and underwear too. With a shift of his hand he's pulling them down a little, and pushing his hand under the fabric, his palm curved to the shape of her body as his fingers find the space between her legs, warm and damp against his touch.

"Oh you're wet," he whispers quietly, softly, his voice thick with desire.

When she feels his hand ascending, she knows what he's planning on doing, and she can barely prepare herself when she feels his fingers sliding down between her legs, pressing against her body. Her eyes close tight and her head falls back, one hand going to grab needlessly at the skirt that's now pushed up around her waist.

"Oh, God," she manages to breath, her body still trying to push against his, her trying to maintain some semblance of self control.

He feels her give in to it a little. Maybe some of those nerves melting away to this instead. And hearing that noise from her lips? It's a heady feeling.

He leans himself up a little, watching her face as he starts to move his fingers against her, small circles against her skin, her underwear still in place holding his hand close to her skin.

"You like that?" he asks, voice still deep and thick. "That's it." He encourages, as he notices her legs seem to part on their own a little. His fingers move slowly, exploring, rubbing gently against her most sensitive of places.

There's a soft gasp as his fingers begin to move, her body pressing down towards his hand as she becomes unable to resist. Her head tilts back further, her back arching and bringing her hips down all the more. She could barely remember what it was to feel like this, to have this kind of touch given so willingly. He's quickly making her head spin, and already she's beginning to whimper for more, her breaths turning into soft noises.

He doesn't need her to answer his question to know she does. The way her body eagerly presses towards his hand, the way she breathes a little quicker, the way she's so very wet against his touch. It spurs him on, his fingers moving a little quicker.

But he doesn't let that last too long, instead pulling his hand back completely and glancing down at her.

"What say we get you out of these things, eh?"

For a moment, she can't work out why he's stopped, and her eyes flutter open, staring up at him with a flushed face and her lips parted as she breathes. Eventually, she realises he's suggested something, and she begins to nod, swallowing a little.

"Yes," she agrees, taking a deep breath of air as she begins to sit up, reaching for the fastening on her skirt so she could get the rest of her clothes out of the way.

As she moves, he shifts to help her, letting her start the job before his hands wrap around the edges of her skirt, curling around the edge of her tights and underwear too so that he might start to bring it all down from her in one go, peeling the tights back from her legs until it all falls free.

He watches her for a moment, her body, the way she looks, hissing in a slight breath because god does she look good.

"Lie on the bed," he whispers to her, just gentle. "Get comfortable."

His hand slides along her leg, over her knee and against her thigh. "You're beautiful, you know that?"

When he takes over the job, she slowly pulls her legs towards her, freeing them from the layers of fabric that were no longer needed. She glances towards him when she notices him looking at her, and she can't help but feel a little emboldened by the way they rake over her body.

Older though she may be, Melody doesn't have the body of an average fifty year old, with her skin and shape somehow defying the effects of age - even after having a child. But she can't see it, not in the way he does, and when he tells her she's beautiful, it's as much a surprise as anything else.

"You really think that?" she asks softly, her eyes looking up at him in gentle curiosity.

"Oh I do," he tells her, sure of that. His hand slides along her thigh, fingers curling slightly.

"What would you like to do, Melody?" he asks, leaving this very much with her in charge. He wants her, yes, so very much and in so many ways, but she needs to be the one, he understands that.

She smiles when he assures her, her eyes glancing down in a moment of modesty. Perhaps, in time, she'll start to believe him, and regain some of the confidence that she's lost over the years. When he speaks again, her eyes lift once more, meeting his and the overwhelming sincerity they hold. He's giving her a choice, an opportunity, and she's starting to feel brave enough to take it.

Slowly, her lips twist into a small smirk, and her eyes wander over him much like they had before. They soon drift down to his waist, where his jeans still sit, and she can't help but think they need to even things out.

"I'd like to get you out of those jeans," she says, beginning to sit up, her eyes latching on his meaningfully.

He's been waiting for those words for what feels like hours. It's not, of course, they've not even been in the room that long. But that's not the point.

As soon as she's spoken, he slides himself back from the bed, standing beside it as he reaches for the button on his jeans. He unhooks it, and works down the zip. He wastes no time in pushing down his jeans, taking his underwear with it too, freeing his constrained body, hard and primed. He moves back to the bed, shifting his knees onto the bed. When there, he settles his hands against her, but leans over, reaching for the packet he'd placed on the bedside earlier, tearing it open and retrieving the condom from inside.

She watches, almost transfixed as he moves back, going to unfasten the jeans she's seen straining all this time. When the fabric's pulled away, she's not disappointed, and that gaze is going nowhere as he returns to the bed, and so to her. Seeing the condom, she's glad at least one of them does this enough to remember the important things and she smiles towards him, unable to hide her growing impatience as she goes to take the condom from between his fingers.

Her eyes meet his as she sits forward, widening her legs and letting them bend either side of him as she lays the condom against his tip, then slowly, almost torturously, rolling it down the hard length of his body. Her hand runs slowly down him a few times for good measure, and she's rather satisfied with what she finds.

He watches the way her legs open as she moves closer, watches as her hands reach out for him and place the condom onto him. He lets out a slight noise of approval. He notices that look in her eye, that hint of a glint of something. He wonders just what she might be like when she gets doing. He has a feeling he'd like it.

"That's nice," he tells her quietly, liking the way it feels in her hand. But he wants more than that now, as much as it happens a slow handjob is one of his favourite things. Maybe he'll tell her that later.

"Why don't you lie back," he suggests, his hand reaching to hold around her thigh, pulling her down a little on the bed, a hold that's strong and presses her hips up a little, exposing her further to him.

He keeps on his knees, settling back a little against his calves, shifting her, pulling her towards him, positioning her slightly before he reaches for himself, pushing himself down so that his tip rubs against her wet body, close but not quite entering her, wetting himself with her, before he holds himself against her and pushes inside just a little, just the tip, holding there, looking up to her a moment before finally he pushes himself fully inside her, groaning as he does.

"Oh fuck."

She bites gently into her lower lip as she watches him, lying back as he suggested, the movement opening her legs all the more to him. She breaths a little unsteadily when he pulls her in closer, with a grip that holds much promise. Waiting, she watches as he brings himself closer, that almost touch becoming more prominent and making her eyes close in anticipation. It's like her body's finally realised what it's getting after all this time, and it's impatient for more.

Thankfully, he gives her more. Much more. And she lets out a loud gasp as she feels him enter her entirely, filling her inside, in ways she's not been used to in some time. It takes a moment to adjust, feeling herself impossibly tight around him, and even if she doesn't swear, it's certainly echoed in her head.

With another gasp, she looks up at him, her hands going to hold onto the bed, because she knows what's coming next.

"James, please," she whispers, because for all she's been waiting, she doesn't think she can wait much longer.

James straightens his back, leaning up straight as he holds around her thigh, keeping her against him as he pushes himself inside her. His hand raises and his fingers run back through his hair as his hips thrust against her, moving back and forth inside her.

"Oh you're tight," he tells her. He's never been with an older woman, never with anyone who's had a child. It's strange to think about, yet somehow oddly exciting, spurring him on. Sitting up the way he does, he gives her a pleasant view of his well toned physique, and too gives himself a good view of her. He sees each of her curves, sees the way her breasts shift and move with every thrust of his hips. He holds himself back, not too much too soon.

His thumb lifts to his mouth, wetting it a little before bringing it down and rubbing against her as he enters, enjoying how he can watch his body shift in and out of hers so clearly.

The moment he starts moving, her eyes are forced closed again, her breaths shaken from her chest he moves against her. There's a near relief to be feeling this again, to remember how good it could be, even if it wasn't in the most conventional way.

When he speaks, her eyes strain open, and she can't help but rake them over his body that sits before her now, on proud display between her open legs. She looks at him, all over him, right down to the way his body moves in and out of hers, and then she sees him wet his thumb, and before he's even touching her, she's moaning softly, her body urgently stretching towards his, anything to feel more from him.

She utters encouragement between broken breaths, one hand clutching at the covers and the other going to hold her own thigh as she tries to return the movement against him.

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