An outtake from my story, Not Just Yet, but Almost. Takes place during and after Chapter 66: A Change of Plans.
Warning: Not going to lie, this got a little...more than a little...dirty, really a whole new level of smut I haven't yet approached in this universe, so yeah, you've been thusly warned. Somehow I don't think that's going to stop most of you. ;-)
He took her in, freshly showered and changed into what appeared to be his clothes, a Liverpool FC T-shirt and a pair of his pajama pants rolled to sit low on her waist.
"Hey," she said approaching slowly, "there you are. Thought I'd lost you inside this place."
He smiled at her, but he knew she'd be able to see right through it. "What's the matter?" she asked, as she moved next to him and ran her hand lightly through his hair. His eyes slid shut as he leaned into her touch.
"Nothing's the matter, just thinking," he said, inhaling her scent as she moved even closer, sliding into his lap, winding her arms around his torso, her smaller frame wrapping easily around his. He leaned back into the chair as she rested her head against his chest.
"Thinking about what?"
"New York," he said, and she pulled back to look at him. "I know you said you wanted a fresh start, love, but I was thinking…."
"You want to live here instead," she finished for him, smiling softly.
His brow furrowed, "How did you…"
"I think you forget sometimes just how well I know you, Sasha," she murmured close to his ear. "The look on your face when we pulled up in front of his house, it was unmistakable. This is your home." She reached into the neckline of the shirt, pulling out the long gold chain that held the ring he'd given her the night before, holding it in the palm of her hand.
He nodded, unsure how he managed to get so lucky. His hands went to the clasp of the necklace and removed it, sliding the ring off the chain. He slid the ring onto her finger and then nodded. "And you'd move here, to England? What about Columbia?" He wanted to live here, but not at the expense of her dreams.
She shrugged, "I applied to Kings College in London as well if you remember, it's close enough to commute and if this is where you want to be Sasha, then it's where I want to be."
He kissed her, taking her completely by surprise, but just seconds past until she caught up, pressing closer to him, kissing him back with equal fervor as he stood from the chair and lifted her to sit upon the desk. Just as she began to lean back against the desk, the phone on the desk rang insistently. He pulled back breathing harshly. He had to answer it, they were expecting a phone call from his father.
"Hello?" he asked, though the phone pressed against his ear didn't stop her from sitting up and running her tongue along the shell of his other ear. A shudder ran through his entire body as he heard his father bark at him through the line.
"Sasha, I have just come from meeting with the committee," Boris said, his tone letting Sasha know exactly what he thought of the bureaucracy they had to deal with in American gymnastics. "They have decided not to investigate after I…what is the word…corroborated what you told them this morning."
"That's great, Dad," he said, as Payson's mouth moved from his ear to his neck, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with her lips. He coughed roughly and pulled back, glaring at her, but she just grinned wickedly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." The other end of the line went dead and Sasha hung up the phone.
"You heard?" he asked.
She nodded, her smile growing. "We did it." She pressed her heel into the small of his back, drawing him closer again.
His hands drifted to her hips, pulling their lower bodies into sharp contact, "Hmm, haven't done anything yet," he murmured softly, his hands creeping beneath her t-shirt,
"I recall you once saying something about wanting to be bent over a desk," he whispered into her ear, "this one is pretty sturdy, I think…"
Her only answer was to turn her face towards his and kiss him deeply as all coherent thought was driven out of Sasha's head, there was only her and him and the desk, ingeniously crafted almost a hundred years ago at the perfect height for his intended activities.
He'd thought their lovemaking after Nationals and the Olympic Trials was intense, but since the moment he'd placed that ring on her finger, his need to be with her, to claim her with his body in the same way he had with that ring was nearly insatiable. He'd never forged a physical connection with anyone in this way.
Her fingertips gripped his biceps as he leaned over her, forcing her back down against the desk.
"We have to be quiet," she murmurred as his lips trailed away from hers, exploring the column of her throat. His mouth moved immediately towards that sensitive spot just above her jawline. At the touch of his tongue to that small patch of skin, she cried out, her voice echoing against the walls of the room, contradicting her own words of just a moment before.
He smirked against her skin, "You were saying, love?" She merely groaned in response, her hand buried in his hair, pushing his mouth insistently back towards the spot he'd abandoned.
He ignored her, rising up, sliding his hands from her hips beneath the hem of her t-shirt. The contrast always astounded him, the rough calloused pads of his fingers traveling over the smooth planes of her skin. A shiver passed through her body as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, tweaking them sharply.
Her head was thrown back against the desk, bottom lip caught between her teeth, her eyes shut. He still wasn't sure after all this time if it was simply that her body was ultra responsive, the fast twitch muscle of a world class athlete allowing her to feel more pleasure than the average person or if it was simply them, together that made this connection so intense.
He abandoned her breasts and she groaned in protest, her eyes flickering open as he gripped the hem of her shirt and tugged at it gently. She followed his lead, sitting up, allowing him to lift it over her head.
"Christ, you're beautiful," he said, taking her in as she looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. Somehow, despite a year of physical intimacy, his words still made her blush. He ran his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head gently and pressing his lips against hers firmly.
Her hands, which had been long exploring the contours of his back finally began undressing him, undoing the tiny buttons of his dress shirt deftly. He broke the kiss and reached behind him, grabbing the crisp collar and yanking it over his head. She leaned forward immediately pressing a kiss against his breastbone, her fingertips tracing over his abdomen, nails scraping lightly against his chest hair. Her mouth then closed over his nipple.
"Fuck," he cursed loudly as her teeth grazed the sensitive tip. He felt her smile against his skin. He gripped her thighs tightly as she continued her sweet torture, before skipping up over the soft cotton material of his own pajama pants, finding the draw string that kept the garment snuggly upon her hips. "Lift up, Pay," he managed to say between the groans she elicited from him.
Payson braced herself back on the desk and allowed him to slide the pants down her legs. She was truly gorgeous, all smooth skin and lithe muscle, yet with curves that marked her undeniably as a woman.
"Sasha?" she asked softly. He must have admired her too long in silence. Her fingers trailed over his abdomen, quickly unbuckling his belt, but he stopped her. His fingers trailed down from her temple over her jawline, lifting her face up towards his. He bent at the waist, kissing her firmly, wrapping his arms around her body, bringing them chest to chest as his weight pressed her back towards the desk. He drew her bottom lip between his, his tongue flickering against it lightly. Her mouth opened against his, slanting naturally together. Her hands found purchase at his shoulders and her nails dug sharply into his skin as his fingers drifted between her legs.
He pulled back slightly, whispering against her lips. "How did you want to do this again, love? You wanted me to bend you over the desk, didn't you? Hard and fast from behind," he said, punctuating his words with short, rough strokes against her clit. Her entire body jerked at his touch. "You like that?" he asked, with a chuckle, "You like when I talk dirty, don't you? Naughty girl."
Her hips pushed back against his hand and he slid a finger, then two inside her in response. "Sasha," she said, her demands obvious, though unvoiced.
"Say it, love. Tell me what you want," he whispered against her ear, letting his tongue flicker against it lightly.
"I want," she began, but the moaned as his thumb pressed against her clit again. "I want you to fuck me."
"How?" he asked, flicking open the button of his pants. The slid off his hips and he quickly stepped out of them, waiting for her response. His other hand slowing, teasing her now. "How do you want me to fuck you, Payson?"
Finally her desire overpowered any remaining modesty, "I want you to bend me over this desk and fuck me from behind."
Sasha's breath caught in his throat. That was easily the dirtiest thing he'd ever heard slide off her tongue. More roughly than he intended, he took her by the hips and practically flipped her over. He took in the long, curved line of her back, her blonde hair laying in haphazard waves over the lightly tanned plane, the round curve of her ass taunting him, beckoning him forward. He pushed his boxer-briefs over his hips, allowing them to join the rest of their clothes on floor at his feet, then ran his hand from her neck, down over her spine to the two small scars at the small of her back. His thumb brushed over them, causing her to shiver, but as he did so, he took himself in hand, pressing against her entrance before he surged forward, pounding into her the way she'd begged him to.
Payson cried out, her hands gripping at the edge of the desk, desperate for some leverage as he kept hold of her hips, setting a furious pace.
Sasha knew it wouldn't take long. The cool wood against her headed skin, the deep, satisfying angle of his thrusts and the sound of his voice would be enough to send her tumbling over the edge. He ran his hands up from her hips, over the smooth curve of her waist, over her shoulders to entwine their fingers together, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. He felt the cool metal of her ring press against his hand, the diamond digging into his skin painfully. "Do you like it like this, Pay? A little rough, a little dirty?" he asked.
"Yes," she called out. Her voice shook and he could feel her body tighten around his. Her breath hitched as she began to shake and then suddenly her entire body tensed before releasing into a mass of tender, trembling flesh.
He kept his strokes fast and strong as he felt himself approaching the precipice. The tight, wet heat of her body driving him towards release.
"Fuck, yes, Payson," he cursed, as he felt her deliberately clench around him, then again. His eyes rolled back in his head and his legs shook with the effort to stay standing as his spent himself inside of her.
He collapsed forward, remembering at the last moment to catch himself, lest he crush her just days before she was meant to compete in the Olympic Games. He remained tucked inside of her however, her body still clutching him tightly in the aftershocks of her orgasm.
For a moment they didn't move, content to relish the feel of skin against skin, their breathing ragged and uneven. He gradually grew soft inside of her and then slipped free as he shifted against her, kissing her shoulder lightly. He stood, allowing her room to turn over.
Their eyes met and her face flushed prettily, before she looked away, biting her lip. He laughed lightly at her shyness. Stroking a finger against her cheek, he leaned down and kissed away her embarrassment. "That was incredible. You are incredible."
"I love you," she said simply. He nodded, knowing she meant that she could do what they just did because she loved him and he loved her.
"I love you too," he said, leaning into kiss her again, just an innocent press of his lips against hers.
They gathered their clothes, cleaning up the sticky mess they'd made as best they could. She stole his dress shirt, smiling cheekily as he admired her in his clothes and he reclaimed the pajama pants she'd stolen from him earlier.
"Bed?" he suggested, flicking off the lights as they left the office.
She shook her head. "A glass of water first," she said, moving towards the kitchen.
Sasha's mind immediately leapt to the same moment she'd confessed her desire to make love bent over a desk. He distinctly remembered her saying something about a kitchen table as well. He grinned wickedly, though she couldn't see it, "Your wish is my command."
A/N: Told you it was dirty. I seriously have no idea where this came from, neither the inspiration to write nor the newly level of...vulgarity, I suppose. I'm not going to question it though. I'm just glad my NJYBA muse is back. Hopefully this means it'll consent to jump starting the sequel sooner rather than later. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this. I know everyone gets shy about leaving reviews on M-rated fics, but please let me know what you think, even if it's in a Private Message instead. I find this kind of thing extremely difficult to write, so I'm sort of desperate for feedback, well even more desperate than usual anyway. Oh and happy MIOBI Monday! :-)