Tender (A britpop era fiction)

Girls and Boys

!WARNING! 

Shit's about to get graphic. If someone doesn't want to read it, skip the first part. 

For the rest of you, enjoy. I hate writing these kind of scenes, so I did that all out of guilty conscience for you having to wait 75 bloody chapters for some action!

Alexandra Palace, 20 February 1995

The moment Damon forces his lips on mine, pushing me even harder against the door behind me, the last bit of my self-control flies away. I give in to his pressure immediately, opening my mouth for him, tasting the vodka and a hint of dried blood on his lip. 

Just like a heatstroke. Kissing Damon is just like a heatstroke. 

I can't recall who manages to turn the key in the lock, shutting out the world behind us. His hands find their way to the hem of my dress, roaming over my thighs and as a soft moan escapes his mouth, I bite his bottom lip, more violently then I intend to. Damon pulls away, his hand raised to his swollen, pink lips, all confused. 

For a heartbeat we just stare at each other, gasping for breath. 

Then it's him against the door and I kiss him. Damon tilts his head, exhaling sharply as my lips wander downwards his neck, admiring every inch of bare skin I can find on him. Desire takes over my every move, as his hands are on my thighs again, dancing higher and higher until I feel like crying out. In what, I can't say. Arousal and lust and frustration and guilt, all at once and nothing. 

All drowned out. All washed away by the feeling of his soft lips on mine and the need for him to touch me, to not ever stop touching me. 

Suddenly my back is pressed against the door again and Damon is pinning down my wrists over my head with the firm grip of his hand, inflaming bittersweet pleasure and pain at once while he still kisses me, gentle one moment and demanding the next. 

I gasp as he lets go of me, only to find his way under my dress again, lifting me up. Instantly I wrap my legs around Damons hips, our lips not parting for a second, my fingers holding the back of his hair in a tight grip. We almost crash into the sink, triggering another breathless moan from me. He puts me down and I can feel his tight grip on one side of my neck while his lips wander down on the other. 

I softly bite his shoulder, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his hands on my bare skin. The hands I've dreamed of, so many nights since Sweden. My head spins as he pulls my underwear down, arching my back against his touch. He finds all the spots to leave me gasping and shivering, as if he knows. As if this is not the first time we collide but the millionth.

I reach for his belt, impatiently opening it. A filthy whisper of my name falls from Damons lips as my hand find it's way in his boxer shorts, gently rubbing his painfully hard erection. I help him to push down his jeans and underwear, squirming while he pulls me closer towards him. I wrap my legs around him again, leaving not an inch between us as he thrusts into me.

"Fuck..." Damon exhales. I feel his hot breath on my face and wrap my arms around his shoulders, eager to have him as close to me as possible. Almost immediately he finds the perfect pace to make me tingle at his every move.

Whenever he hits that sweet spot inside of me, a whispered curse threatens to slip out of my mouth. My nails dig even harder in his shoulders when Damon buries his head in my neck, his soft hair tickling my skin and his hushed moans a more pleasant melody than I could've imagined.