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

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.

"No, just relax," he tells her. "I've got this." He wants her just to enjoy this, wants her to simply feel it all.

His thumb rubs against her a little more, faster, faster as he moves quicker too. But then sharp movements stall, and with a movement he's obviously done more than once before, he shifts. From kneeling, he presses against her, pushing tightly inside her and straightening his legs out along the bed, his body pressed over hers instead of upright.

His hand reaches out to her side, grasps for her breast, gently pinching her nipple between his fingers.

"Do you like that?" he asks, and they aren't just cursory words. He wants to know, wants to be sure, attentive here for both of them. His hips continue to press against hers, and leaning over her as he does, his lips seek out hers and clash in an eager kiss.

She listens to him, and allows herself to relax as much as possible. He makes it rather difficult, however, particularly when he moves himself over her, changing the way he feels inside of her. She gasps a little louder, her hands coming up to hold against his shoulders, eyes fluttering open to watch him and the way he hovers over her. He moves within her with a sure and strong force, encompassing the youth she can't help but notice. He knows what he's doing, that much is clear.

"Yes," she tells him breathlessly, her murmurs fading out as she's kissed and she loses herself to it, her head reaching up slightly from the bed, returning it with all she has.

But just then, in her bag, hanging on the chain, comes the sudden clear sound of a ringing phone. It takes Melody a second to realise it is hers and she makes a noise of confused annoyance, shaking her head as she brings her hand to his face.

"Ignore it."

"I wasn't intending to stop," he tells her, words murmured against her lips as he continues, hips moving with every ounce of practise he's ever had.

And it's an act that continues for quite some time, sometimes harder, sometimes softer, but never too much, never pushing too hard, not for this, not for what he's sure she needs. He makes sure to look into her eyes, makes sure to show her just how much he desires her. It's when he kisses her his actions speed, when he kisses her that he seems to lose himself into something so much deeper.

He most certainly doesn't, and nor does she, wrapped up in everything he was giving her, everything she'd been needing all this time. And it wasn't just the sex, but somebody who cared, somebody who wanted to make her feel good. He was giving her all of that, even though he had no need to, not when he'd known her for less than a day.

But then it didn't quite feel that way. There was something in the way he touched her and kissed her that made it feel like they'd known each other far longer. She relaxed in his arms, she trusted every touch he gave her, but she couldn't explain why.

Hours later, she lay there beneath him, breathing heavily, feeling her head spin in the most wonderful way and her body released of the tension it had been carrying for so long. She's relaxed, deliriously so, and she chuckles as she looks towards him, a smile on her face and her hair wilder than ever.

Though she's been brought to a pinnacle more than once in the last few hours, James remains over her, still within her, and still shifting a little. This time though, he's got there too, and the sweat on his brow plasters his hair against his forehead.

As she laughs so too does he, smiling at her before leaning in for a slow indulgent kiss.

"Well, you look like you enjoyed yourself." he says as his body pulls free from hers, glancing down to check the spent condom. He shifts a little, off her, to the side on the bed, waiting a moment before he needs to slip away to the bathroom and discard the used sheath.

"You know you're not half loud once you get going," he teases, playful.

It's all too easy to fall into another kiss, and she makes a soft sound as she reaches up, deepening it for just a moment before she allows her head to fall back. His words make her laugh gently again and she watches as he moves away from her.

"I didn't hear your complaining," she points out just as playfully. If anything, he had rather encouraged it.

"No you did not," he agrees, leaning over to capture her lips once more, a lingering kiss that he somehow tries to take with him as he leans back and slips off from the bed, quickly making his way into the bathroom.

"Didn't your phone go earlier?" he calls back as he discards the condom, taking only a moment before he heads back out, finding one of the plastic cups they used earlier for the terrible wine and going instead to fill it with water. He brings the cup back towards the bed, taking a sip before passing it towards her.

"Here."

Sitting up on the bed, it takes her a moment to remember the phone ringing, but she then very quickly realises who it must be. "Oh my God, Toby!" she exclaims, shuffling off the bed, ignoring the water in the process, before she goes to rummage urgently through her bag. She picks out her phone to find a missed call and a screen of increasingly urgent text messages.

Cursing under her breath, she opens the screen, quickly typing a message to her son to assure him she was fine and to explain the situation with the trains. She also made up a white lie about being out of signal before she drops the phone back in her bag.

"I completely forgot. My son was expecting me ages ago."

"Yeah well I'm sure he'll cope," he says almost dismissively. "You're allowed a night to yourself."

He moves back over to the bed, sliding himself onto the dishevelled sheets, looking over towards her as she rifles through her bag. "Ooh bend over a little more," he says, teasingly. "I should take a picture."

She quickly straightens at his comment, throwing him a look that soon twists into a smile. "Why do you need to take a picture?" she asks coyly as she moves to climb back onto the bed, heading towards him with a knowing look in her eye.

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