Northwest on Earth (closed)

He gave her a weak smile when she cracked about going back out. He was stiff and sore enough that the thought terrified him, even though he knew she was teasing him. Slowly he rolled his shoulders, wincing.

"Yeah. Maybe tomorrow," he said. Or maybe not. He wondered how long it would take before he felt right again. He had felt like this once before, one day shooting Northwest, when they took 57 takes of him sprinting up a three story fire escape. The last time he talked to Carter, he learned that scene had been cut. The next two days he could hardly walk. He sipped his coffee and dug into the breakfast, which was out of this world. He smiled at Misha and shook his head in amazement.

"You keep cooking like this, I'm stuffing you into my carry-on and taking you back to LA with me," he said. He would take her back to LA, too, he thought, if she'd go. Though not in his carry-on, and not just because she made the hands-down best mango french toast ever. He chuckled at himself.

"This afternoon," he said. "I should go back to town and straighten things out with Temaru. I know it was you he was doing a favor for, but I said I'd be back tomorrow and today is tomorrow to yesterday. Well, you know what I mean."

He looked at her and took a deep breath.

"I might ... um ... check out the local night life, while I'm there." He frowned and stared intently at his plate. He knew there was no reason for him to feel bad about it. He was supposed to be here having fun, and she worked here. They both understood that they couldn't get together, and the longer he kept his sites set on her, the harder it would be to resist temptation.

"I'm not so sure about the boat, but you said there's a car, maybe I can take?" he stood up, still not wanting to look at her. He knew there was no reason it should bother him so much, but somehow, it did. He looked at her, his brow tight, and sighed.
 
It was a testament to how hungry she was that the food distracted her enough that she don't immediately recognize what Charlie meant by "night life."

"Sure! There are a couple of places that serve really great drinks and I..." She paused abruptly upon realizing what exactly he was getting at. Jealousy shot through her and she admonished herself for it. She forced her smile back onto her face and continued, "I could... recommend a few places if you want..."

She wanted to tell him that the car was broken down, that the boat was out of gas and that he wasn't allowed to go. She shook her head. She was being childish. He had every right to go out and have some fun. It wasn't as though they had anything for her to jealously protect. She was the one who had rejected him! How could she expect him to stay loyal to some imagined relationship she wouldn't let them have? She couldnt. It was unreasonable. And yet...she wanted to. Desperately.

"Do you want to take the car or the boat?" she asked, trying and failing to sound relaxed. All she could think about was spending the night here alone, knowing he was out doing all the things she wish she could do with him with some other woman instead. Or worse, him bringing her back here at the end of the night and being able to hear it while she tried to sleep...
 
Charlie clenched his teeth as she stumbled. He could see the hurt on her face, and he wanted to take it back. He wanted to tell her he wouldn't go, if she'd just ask him not to, but that wasn't fair. If she asked him to stay, then she'd be responsible for him in a way that she couldn't be. The only way he could stay was if he stayed without her asking, and that wasn't going to make for a very relaxing vacation. He shook his head when she suggested recommending places. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her even more uncomfortable.

“I'll just explore,” he said. “Thank you though.” He took a deep breath and tried to smile, but it came out terribly wrong, and he gave up. He looked at her for a long time, and then he shook his head. No matter how badly he wanted her, it wasn't going to happen. If it did happen, it was going to be a mistake. At least for her.

“I'll take the car,” he said. He wasn't sure of himself on the water enough to want to take the boat. He didn't want to be half-drunk on the water, all distracted by some girl and end up drifting off, never to be heard from again. There didn't seem to be a hell of a lot else to say, so he stood up. “I'll probably be back late.”

The road to the village made him wish he'd taken the boat. There were potholes big enough to get lost in, and hairpin turns over cliffs with no suggestion of a rail. When he finally made it, he parked and sat in the car, waiting for his heart to stop pounding. Eventually, he got out and went into Temaru's shop.

Temaru totalled up the previous day's purchases, and then Charlie nodded to the metal board. “Throw that on there, too,” he said.

Temaru gave him a disapproving look. He obviously wanted to sell the board, but not to a novice. Charlie waited for him to say something, but nothing came.

“I want to keep it here,” Charlie said. “I'm going back to LA in a month, but I want Misha to have it.”

Temaru whistled and shook his head, but added five thousand to the bill. “You know she's not going to give it up for a board, right?”

Charlie sighed. “That's why you're going to give it to her after I leave.”

Temaru shrugged his shoulders and took Charlie's credit card. “You got it bad. You should probably let her know.”

“She knows.”


A little before dawn, Charlie parked the car back at the B&B and crept in the front door. The place was quiet, and he found his way up to his room in the dark. He lay on the bed in his clothes, feeling the ache in his shoulders and the other aches. He had found a bar, had a few drinks, chatted up a pretty girl, and then he'd left. He'd gone out to look at the stars, and when the girl followed him, he told her to go back inside. He'd told her he was married. Happily married, he'd explained when she said she didn't care. She didn't seem too bothered, and he'd walked down to the beach and watched the stars until he fell asleep on the cool sand.
 
After Charlie left, Misha couldn't keep herself busy enough. She practically raced through the various chores she had to do, trying to keep herself distracted by doing six things at once. Despite the fact that she'd been doing only the bare minimum of work since Charlie had arrived, she managed to finish everything faster than normal so, shortly after eating dinner, she found herself standing in the living room, looking desperately for something to do.

She couldn't stop thinking about Charlie. She wondered what he was doing, and who he was doing it with. She tortured herself with visions of him in bed with some goddess of a woman from the town. Every little creak the house made caused her eyes to flicker towards the door, some combination of hope and dread filling them - was it Charlie? Was he bringing his fling back with him? But no, it was always just the wind or the heat making the house groan, and she always admonished herself for being so obsessive over a man she'd only met yesterday. She was certain that this wasn't healthy.

Eventually, she decided to call her mother. She didn't call enough, and she needed someone to talk to, someone who could keep her mind off of Charlie. Instead, her cousin answered the phone, explaining that her mom was out and that she wouldn't be back for several hours. Misha sighed and hung up.

Movies. They were her escape, and she needed nothing more than escape now. She picked out three of them, avoiding Dogs of War like the plague, and put one into the DVD player. Then she curled up in the corner of the couch and lost herself in an epic fantasy.

It was well past midnight when she put on the last movie. She knew she should go to bed - she was exhausted - but she was afraid of what she'd think about if she left herself alone with her thoughts in her dark, silent bedroom. One more, one more movie. Then she'd been so knock-out tired that she'd fall asleep as soon as she hit the pillow and she wouldn't have to worry about her traitorous thoughts.

As it happened, she underestimated exactly how tired she was. She fell asleep halfway through the movie, still curled up under a thin blanket in the corner of the couch. When the movie ended, the screen went black, and eventually the television turned itself off after being inactive for too long. The living room was bathed in blackness, and Misha had managed to tire herself so completely that she didn't hear when Charlie crept right by her, blind to her sleeping presence in the dark.
 
When he woke up on the sand, he must have still been drunk enough not to notice the throbbing pain in his shoulders, but after a few hours in bed, it woke him. He sat up, wincing, and wondered for the thousandth time if this paradise was actually some kind of purgatory. It was just life, he told himself. As beautiful as the place was, he was still himself, and nothing he could do would change it. It didn't make him any stronger, it didn't make him any more irresistible to women. He actually felt tears filling his eyes as he stood up. He tried to stretch, but he could barely lift his arms up enough to brush his teeth. He looked in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, but there was nothing useful in it.

He went downstairs, hugging himself, and was going to look in the kitchen for something stronger than ibuprofin when he heard a low, soft rumble from the living room. He crept in to investigate, wondering if it was an animal, wondering if he should arm himself. It was Misha, stretched out on the couch, with a thin blanket covering her, fast asleep. He saw the remote, and the DVD cases, and smiled to himself. He had fallen asleep watching movies plenty of times, and it was nice that she was no different. Or it would have been, if she was actually available. He let out a sigh and sat on the loveseat. He put his feet up and leaned his head back, watching her sleep.

He actually wished he had stayed in and watched movies with her. Not just because last night had been a failure, but because he was actually jealous of nobody. As in, who was she with last night? Nobody. He shook his head, the movement pulling on his aching shoulders enough to make him groan. She stirred in her sleep, her face changing from the blank perfection of sleep to something troubled. He smiled, watching her, feeling a strange, bittersweet mix of happiness and desire.
 
Misha was just starting to come out of her sleep when Charlie groaned. She furrowed her brow and mumbled the words, "Charlie? No..." before murmuring a few more incomprehensible things, then falling silent.

She finished coming out of her sleep a few moments later and her eyes flickered open. She saw Charlie sitting in the love seat and jumped in surprise. Several things hit her at once. She was still on the couch after last night. The sun was well up in the sky. She probably looked ridiculous with her sleepy, dopey expression and her bed-head. She was supposed to have started working close to two hours ago.

Misha pushed herself up into a sitting position and raked her fingers through her hair, trying to control it. She smiled apologetically at him. "I'm sorry, I don't usually sleep in like this. I didn't mean to fall asleep on the couch, so I didn't get to set my alarm." She stood, stretching idly. Her muscles protested, feeling a little stiff after yesterday, and she rolled her shoulders. "You probably want breakfast," she observed, still feeling sheepish at having been caught sleeping in. She paused, then, noticing the fact that Charlie looked unpleasantly tense and that he wasn't moving much. "Or maybe some painkillers..." She smiled sympathetically. She'd lived in perpetual pain when she first started surfing. It took time for muscles to get used to that kind of exercise.

She was keeping whatever Charlie had done last night firmly out of her mind. That he was back and apparently alone helped. She felt more resigned than jealous. Or at least that was what she was trying to tell herself.

She started toward the kitchen but stopped when she realized he wasn't following - when she turned around, she realized that he was just getting off of the love seat and wincing while he did so. She frowned. He'd really overdone himself if he was in that much pain. She walked back into the living room, wincing sympathetically at the look on his face. "Listen, I don't like seeing you in that much pain, and I don't imagine you're going to have much fun on vacation if you can barely move." She felt a slight blush rising on her cheeks, knowing just how inappropriate it was to offer him a massage. But she was being honest when she said she hated to see him in pain. It made her wince every time he moved. She motioned to the couch. "I can, um, try to help with that if you want to lie down..."
 
The first thing she said as she slowly came awake was his name, and he grinned like an idiot. Even though the next word was No. He smiled as he watched her rubbing her eyes and stretching under the blanket, and then opening her eyes. She started when she saw him, and he blushed, turning away. He could imagine how creepy it must have been for her to wake to find him staring at her like that, and he shook his head. A half a second's thought and he would have known better, but something about her just made him unable to think.

She sat up, and tried to straighten her hair, tried to compose herself for what was undoubtedly one of the more uncomfortable mornings of her life. If they were lovers or even friends it would be different. Hell, if they were complete strangers she could tell him off, but she was an employee, a servant, and he was the customer. Back home, the rule that the customer was always right was almost absolute, and extended far beyond the point where it was at all reasonable.

“Wait, look,” he said as she started to explain herself. “There's really nothing for you to apologize for. I know you're probably not supposed to or whatever, but let's just try to clear things up, ok? This is your house. You live here, and I'm a guest. I hope I'm also a friend, because I like you. Even if... I mean... I don't want to be just some customer that you have to worry about. I want you to be comfortable. Sleep in, crash on the sofa if you want to, ok?” Of course, the irony that he was giving her permission to do these things was not lost on him, but he hoped she would understand that he was honestly asking her to loosen whatever boundaries that she felt able to.

“I mean, really,” he said, letting a little playfulness back into his tone. “You and Temaru are the only people I know for like ten thousand miles, and I think he only wants me for the money and the sex.” He gave her a look, wondering if she'd read between the lines and understand what hadn't happened last night. Or if she'd really care.

He smiled as she stood up. Even though she was offering breakfast as an employee, it seemed as though the awkwardness was clearing away on the tropical breeze that wafted through the open windows. He tried to turn and watch her ass as she walked into the kitchen, but the pain brought tears to his eyes, and he sat, breathing hard for a long moment, trying not to whine pathetically.

“Painkillers,” he said, through clenched teeth. “No breakfast.”

He struggled to his feet and wobbled unsteadily. He tried to roll his shoulders but they were so stiff it was impossible. “I'd sell my left nut for a massage.” He said. “OK, not really. But are you offering as a friend or is it a part of your job?”

He slowly lowered himself until he was kneeling on the couch, and then fell forward, bouncing a little, turning his head so he could breathe.
 
Misha smiled as she watched Charlie flop down onto the couch. There was something entirely too endearing about his willingness to let her help him, even if she couldn't sleep with him. He wasn't the first man to show up here and hit on her, but he was the first to continue their friendly relationship after she had told him she wasn't able to give him what he desired. And he was certainly the one she got along with best. So often she found herself forcing a laugh at a guest's terrible joke or pretending to be interested in their stories about 'conquering' dozens or even hundreds of women back home, as if that would impress her. Charlie was by far the most enjoyable company that had come to this little B&B since she started working here. In fact, he was some of the most enjoyable company she'd had the pleasure of keeping in her life, period.

"As a friend, definitely," she assured him as she knelt on the edge of the couch next to him, then swung her leg up over his hips so she was straddling him. Then she settled comfortably down so that she was seated on his ass, and tried to ignore the fact that it felt better than it looked. Not that she was looking every time he turned around or anything... "This is one of those things my boss would probably fire me for doing. He's very particular about me keeping a professional distance from the guests," she explained, running her hands lightly over the planes of his back. Then she leaned down over him so her mouth was close to his ear. "So let's not tell him about this, hm?" she requested, her smile audible in her voice.

She sat back up then, and ran her fingers up and down the muscles on either side of his spine. She could feel tension everywhere. She hissed softly, shaking her head. She could only imagine how much he had to hurt. His back felt like there were a series of pebbles scattered under the skin, he had so many tight muscle knots. Her fingers moved to the first one and she started gently kneading the skin on either side of the knot, working slowly but surely toward the middle, trying to loosen it without hurting him.
 
Charlie lay still. As she straddled him, and he felt her weight settling on his ass, her thighs spread around his hips, he was frozen. All he could think of was wanting her. His cock stiffened against the sofa cushions, and he reflexively pushed down, his ass flexing under her. For a moment, his need overwhelmed him. He pushed himself up off the couch, grabbed her and flipped her under him.... Except that he didn't. As soon as he started to push, the pain of his aching muscles burned through him and all he did was shift himself a half inch or so to the side. The pain did manage to cut the lust a little.

Until she leaned down and whispered in his ear. Her breasts brushed against his back, and he gasped.

He shook his head. “Our little secret,” he said, his voice ragged with his wanting her. He thought, for a moment, he was in hell, and then her fingers started to work. In a few moments, he was in heaven. The deep muscle aching that had been with him for the past 24 hours finally got some relief. Though he felt it flaring up whenever he tried to move, he had adapted to the constant throb. Just because he tuned it out, though, didn't mean he didn't feel it diminish.

It did nothing to curb his desire, but it calmed him. Instead of feeling trapped in a helpless frenzy, he was floating on a cloud of endorphins and pleasure. He lay still under her, his eyes slowly closing, his lips turning up in a blissful smile.

“What the fuck does professional distance mean?” he murmured. He knew exactly what it meant, of course. It meant she couldn't sleep with him. Or massage him. Or be a friend.

“You sure you don't want to come back to LA with me?” he said, cracking an eye open and smirking playfully.
 
Misha could feel Charlie practically melting under her hands. She bit her lip, enjoying the feeling of his skin under her hands. She was supposed to be doing this as a favour to him; she hadn't expected to enjoy the excuse to touch him as much as she was. His skin was smooth and warm, and she found the slight movements he was making underneath her more than a little erotic.

She laughed at his little quip about going to LA with him. Was it weird that it was actually a sort of tempting offer? She had just loosened the knot she was working on, so she massaged the skin gently to make sure she hadn't missed anything, and moved on to the next one.

"Why don't you say here with me instead?" she teased, grinning as she worked the next knot. He seemed to be moving more readily now that she'd started her work. She finished another knot and heard him groan. "How are you feeling now?" she asked softly, tracing the lines of his spine and ribs. Theoretically, she didn't need to touch him while she waited for his response, but the ripples of muscle shifting under his skin felt wonderful. Any excuse to touch him seemed enough for her.
 
Last edited:
It was bliss. Knot by knot, her hands worked the strain out of his muscles, leaving him in a sort of trance. As she worked her way up, leaning over him, he could feel the way her thighs flexed, and her body pressed. He knew it was just the most convenient way to massage him, but the shifting movements never quite let him forget that she was straddling him.

“I wish I could,” he said. He did, too. He could walk away from everything and live out here and learn to surf. She'd probably get canned, but there would be some way to make enough money to scrape by on, and they'd be happy. For a moment, he saw it all. Never mind that they had just met, never mind that they had never even kissed, never mind that he would be giving everything up. “If I didn't have to go back to LA to be a movie star, I bet I would.”

He cracked an eye open and looked at her, then chuckled as if it had been a joke. It didn't seem believable to him, and he knew for a fact that it was happening.

“I feel incredible,” he said. “You're amazing.” There was still plenty of stiffness in his chest, but that wasn't as bad as his back and shoulders. He could live with it, and if he turned over, there would be no hiding his hard-on, and he didn't want to ruin the moment, yet. Eventually, it would happen, unless he was going to lay face down on the sofa all day.
 
Misha continued to work on Charlie's back as he talked about having to go back to LA to be a movie star. She was, admittedly, a little sad at the reminder that he was going to be leaving in just less than a month, but she understood. Acting was his dream, and he had the one in a million chance of actually making a living at it. Sad as it made her to think he had to leave, she was happy for him, too. Not many people had the talent or perseverance to do something like that. Even if he wasn't a big A-list star (at least, as far as she knew), the fact that he made a living at it was something to be proud of.

Her hands slid up his back and began to massage gently at his neck and shoulders. It was more an absent touch than a real massage. Her fingers were just gliding softly over the skin on the back of his neck while she considered the various things she had to do today. She'd gotten most of the chores done last night, in her attempts at distracting herself from Charlie's potential activities in the town. An echo of jealousy shot through her again - it wasn't as strong as it was yesterday, probably because he was back now, and she was touching him in what was undeniably an intimate (if not strictly sexual) way. Part of her wanted to ask him what happened, whether he had success in finding a girl to take him home last night. Most of her had no doubts in the matter - he hadn't gotten back by the time she'd fallen asleep, so what else would he have been doing?

"I can't imagine that last night's... um, exertions were very good for your sore muscles." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she blushed, realizing even as she was speaking that they were incredibly inappropriate and that what he was doing last night was definitely none of her business. She climbed off of him, one hand pressed over her mouth. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I don't know what's wrong with me." She couldn't meet his eyes. "I'm gonna, um, go start breakfast." With that, she fled into the kitchen, anxious to get away from the moment she'd managed to make so terribly awkward.
 
He chuckled at her mention of his exertions. If she only knew. The next thing he knew, she was standing up, and the weight of her on his back was gone. He looked up, and she looked mortified, her hand over her mouth, her cheeks bright red. She couldn't even look at him.

“Nothing happened,” he blurted out, and reached out to catch her wrist. Except he was still a little stiff, and dopey from the massage, and he missed her wrist and flopped off the couch as she retreated into the kitchen. He slowly climbed to his feet, wondering what the hell was the matter with her? It didn't take long to put it together. He'd been telling himself that she wanted him all this time, but he had only been thinking about himself. How would he have taken it if she'd gone out last night to get laid? He didn't think he would have offered her a massage this morning. He took a deep breath. If she felt half of what he was feeling, this was torture for her as well.

“This is fucking nuts,” he muttered. He went into the kitchen, found Misha banging around, and he put his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. He was still hard, still in a daze from her hands, but he was strong, and he held her. He whispered softly.

“Nothing happened,” he whispered. “The girl I want is here. I know you can't, but I know this is driving us both crazy, and this is only the second morning.”
 
Misha was so busy getting out the various implements she needed to make breakfast and beating herself up over being so nosy that she hadn't heard Charlie follow her into the kitchen. She gasped and started in surprise when she felt his hands on her sides.

She couldn't stop herself from leaning back into him as his arms found their way around her waist and pulled her back against him. She could feel his erection pressing against her lower back. The sensation made her heart-beat pick up. Half of her wanted to give up her attempts at keeping something resembling a professional distance between them, to grind back against him and show him exactly how much she wanted him. The other half of her, the half that won her little internal argument, wanted to hold very still, because she couldn't give in and there was no reason to torture him further. She reveled in the feeling of his arms around her and, for a moment, allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to act on her feelings, what it would be like if she could allow him to hold her like this all the time.

When he told her nothing happened, she felt a little knot that had formed under her breastbone release. It wasn't fair of her to feel this way, but it was a relief to know that he hadn't found someone else to spend the night with. She nodded as he told her what they both knew - that this was crazy, that she was torturing both of them by trying to maintain that separation that was supposed to exist between her and a guest.

She turned her head to look at him, their faces dangerously close, and closed her eyes. "I don't know why I keep trying," she admitted softly. She lifted one of her hands and pressed it over one of his. "I know I won't be able to keep this up for the entire month. It's only been a couple of days and already I can barely control myself." She opened her eyes again, feeling torn. Part of her felt like she could try to maintain what was left of her 'professional distance' even if it was a futile attempt. The rest of her wanted to stop driving them both crazy with this sexual tension when she was only going to give in to him tomorrow or the next day at this rate anyway. The result was that she was frozen, caught between her fear of losing her job and the increasingly overwhelming desire she felt, only amplified now by his closeness.
 
He let his cheek brush against hers, his breath hot on her skin, his arms holding her close. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her, tasting paradise. He felt her hesitation, and he squeezed his eyes tight, trying to ignore it. She wanted this. He needed it. The rule that made her hesitate was unfair, unreasonable. It was inhuman to try to enforce it in a situation like this. The two of them were here, alone, for a month. Who could expect them to resist an attraction like this?

It wasn't even just a case of random lust. He had tried, last night, to be interested in the girl, but he couldn't even remember her name. He knew abstractly that she had been pretty, but his thoughts had been so fixed on Misha that he'd worked harder to get her off the hook than he had to get her on. And now he was here, with everything he wanted in his arms.

“I want you,” he growled in her ear. He pressed his cock against her, making it very clear how he meant it. “More than I've ever wanted anyone.” It was true, he realized. He'd had relationships that lasted months where he'd felt less than he had in the past two days. He took a deep breath and slid his hands to her hips. He held her still and took a step back. “But you're the one with something to lose.”

“I'll be the biggest asshole in the world if I push you.” He took another step back and let go of her hips, clenching his fists and forcing himself to hold them at his side. “I'm sorry. It has to be your choice.”
 
Perhaps it was odd that his insistence on resisting ended up being that last straw. Once his hands left her hips, she turned slowly around to face him. It was one of those moments that crystallizes in your memory - it took her a split second to see everything. His clenched fists, as if he was trying to physically hold himself back. That stubborn look on his face that told her he really wouldn't push her into this, no matter how much he wanted her. His eyes half-closed in an expression that was almost a wince, like he was preparing himself for the worst possible news, not just the rejection of a girl he'd only met two days ago. He knew what she would be risking by giving in to their desires... but she already had. They'd already crossed the line from employee-customer to something like friends. Half of what she'd been afraid of was that he'd tell someone about how he'd banged the hot manager at the B&B in Tahiti and it would somehow get back to her boss, but this moment was more than enough evidence that he wouldn't risk her livelihood so carelessly. He really did care about her.

Misha took two wordless steps toward him, wrapped her arms around his neck, pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed him. His mouth was soft and warm, and she felt a pulse of giddy energy shoot through her body when he started to respond to her kiss. Her body molded against his, and she could feel his erection against her hip. She shifted her hip slowly, back and forth against it, heat and wetness gathering between her own legs at his reaction to it.

"You," she murmured against his lips, not quite willing to pull away from him so she could speak normally. "You're my choice."
 
It was all he could do to force himself away from her, and he didn't dare look at her. He barely even heard her, his thoughts were so deafening, kicking himself for pulling back when he knew he could have... and kicking himself for not leaving her alone when she'd walked out of the living room. Then she was kissing him, and it was everything he had wanted.

Her arms around his neck, her lips pressing hungrily against his, as he devoured her, his mouth covering hers. His head came down, taking more, his tongue flicking against her lips, demanding her mouth, possessing it. She pressed against him, her body's need communicating itself by the way she rocked herself over his cock.

He wanted to take her right there, but he was too hot. He wouldn't last a minute if he didn't back himself up a little, and he was determined to give her an experience she would never forget. There would be time for quick fucks in the kitchen, but now....

He slid an arm around her waist, and the other under her thighs, scooping her up in his arms. For a moment, his body protested, but he straightened up and grinned at her, carrying her towards the stairs.
 
Misha hadn't quite expected him to sweep her off her feet, literally. She yelped in surprise, her arms tightening around him as he lifted her, and then she laughed. She felt a little like a bride, being carried up the stairs like that, and could feel a blush rising on her cheeks the thought. It wasn't exactly an appropriate thought to be having when she'd only just met Charlie. Then again, she wasn't normally the kind of girl who fell into bed with someone she'd met two days ago, either.

She managed to wait maybe 15 or so seconds before she decided that she needed to be kissing him again, so she started trailing small kisses up and down his neck and shoulder, nibbling gently on his earlobe every time her mouth came close. She waited until they were up the stairs and in his room before she finally lifted one of her hands to his cheek and turned his head toward her so she could kiss his mouth again. It was easy for her to lose herself in his kiss - she was only very vaguely aware that her knees felt a bit weak, and that it was probably a good thing he was carrying her.
 
The kissing made it tricky, and for a moment, on the stairs, he almost lost it. He was sure she wouldn't forget being dropped and falling down the stairs with him, but it wasn't quite what he was hoping for. Shifting her weight in his arms, he got his balance back, and at the top of the stairs he kissed her back. He couldn't get enough of her mouth, and for a few long moments, he just kissed her fiercely, but he had to set her down soon. Carrying her up the stairs had done the job of cooling him off a little. Though he was still hard as a bar of iron in his trunks, he wasn't about to go off. He kept his lips on hers as he inched into the room, until his knees found the foot of the bad.

He set her down gently, laying her on her back, and then he broke the kiss. He stood over her, looking down at her, and pulled his shirt off. He hadn't missed the glances she had been stealing at him, and he smiled playfully as he twirled the shirt on his finger and then draped it over her face.

He leaned down over her, quickly, and let his lips touch her belly. He breathed deep, and let out a happy sigh, and let his tongue trace a slow circle around her navel.
 
Misha couldn't help the way her cheeks flushed at the look he gave her when he pulled his shirt off. It left no question that he knew she'd been checking him out when she thought he wasn't looking. So much for being subtle. And since he knew anyway, she took the opportunity to ogle his toned torso utterly shamelessly, with a sheepish grin on her face.

She laughed again when he tossed the shirt at her. She tried to catch it and swat it away, but it missed, and she ended up pausing for a moment to enjoy the sudden flood of his musky, masculine scent that enveloped her. Distracted as she was, she didn't quite realize what he was doing until she felt his tongue tracing lazy circles around her stomach. She pushed the shirt aside and sighed happily, stretching her stomach taut and arching ever so slightly into his touch.

Her shirt was already pushed up around her ribcage to grant him access to her stomach anyway, so she shifted slightly and pulled it the rest of the way off over her head. Then, grinning mischievously, she tossed it at him, draping it over his head the way he had done to her.
 
He growled in protest as he felt her shirt draping over his head, straightening up and pulling it off, and realizing that she was topless now. He let out a sigh.

"Oh my God," he whispered, and slid his hands over her body, covering her breasts. "They're too perfect. You can't just whip them out at me with no warning like that." He said, squeezing them gently, grinning. His hands kneaded her breasts, feeling her nipples hard against the centers of his palms until he shifted his hands and caught them between his first two fingers. He leaned over to give each one a quick flick with his tongue, and then slid a hand under her back, lifting her head to meet his for another deep, desperate kiss.
 
She couldn't quite hold in the noise of pleasure she made as his hands slid up over her body to her breasts. It was almost a purr, and she shut her eyes to better enjoy the feeling of his touch. Her eyes fluttered open again and she smiled shyly in response to his compliment. "Now you know how I feel whenever you smile," she answered honestly.

She'd barely gotten the words out of her mouth before her breath left her in a gasp as his fingers caught her nipples and his tongue flicked out over each of them.

She hadn't even managed to catch her breath after those two little touches before his mouth found hers and he kissed her hungrily again. She reached up and buried the fingers of one hand in his hair, trying to pull him closer, while her other hand splayed out over his back and glided up and down, over his skin, as if she were trying to touch all of him at once.
 
He lost himself in the kiss. His mouth pressed down, feeling her lips answering, pulling him, wanting more. His tongue slid out, swirling around hers, wrestling each other. He never wanted it to end, and he felt her hand in his hair, trying to pull him down as if they could melt into each other. His hand was tangled in her hair, pulling her up against him the same way, and his other hand stroked her body. Long, slow caresses, from her shoulder over her breast, letting his thumb strum over a nipple in passing. Then over her ribs, along her belly to her hip. When his fingertips found the waist of her shorts, he pressed down, dipping under, feeling the muscles of her groin and the heat between her thighs. Then he pulled back, and his hand traveled back over her body.

Three times his hand made the trip, each time his fingers slipped a little farther into her shorts, a little closer to her pussy. Then he pulled his lips away from hers. He lifted himself up over her and looked down, and he didn't dare to speak. The things he wanted to say were too terrifying. He kissed her chin, and let his mouth slide slowly down her throat. He let his breath heat her skin, the tip of his tongue flicked out, teasing, leaving wet streaks, and his lips gripped the flesh, pulling it against his teeth, and then let go before he left a mark.

He dragged his mouth down her neck this way, and then over a breast, until he found her nipple and let it press against his teeth, flicking it with his tongue.
 
Misha felt her mind pulling in two directions at once. She kept losing herself in the kiss, only to be drawn slowly back out, shifting her focus to his hand, as he inched slowly down under the waistband of her shorts toward her pussy, but never quite reaching it before pulling back up her body. She whimpered with a mix of desire and disappointment each time he withdrew. She simultaneously wanted desperately for his fingers to finally reach her slit and quench that need that was growing within her, but she also never wanted this slow, passionate build-up to end.

He broke their kiss and Misha almost wanted to pull him back down to her, to refuse to allow him to end it, but then she caught the look in his eyes, and it stole her breath away. She wanted to speak or to act, but she felt frozen, pinned under the intensity of his gaze. It made her feel utterly naked in a way almost more intimate than the actual act of stripping off her clothes.

By the time she managed to find her voice, he was kissing her neck again, and she instinctively lifted her chin to grant him better access to the sensitive skin there. "Charlie..." she breathed, gasping every time his tongue darted out onto her burning skin. Her hand was still buried in his hair, and she found herself gripping it hard enough that she was certain it must have hurt a little. She loosened her grip slowly, but found that she had to concentrate on keeping her hand relaxed enough. His mouth found her nipple; her whole body arched with a ragged gasp, and she found herself holding too tightly again. She gave up, then, and her hand slid down his body to his shorts, where she trailed her fingers teasingly along to skin just above and then just below the waistband.
 
Her fingers teased under his waist, and he shuddered with excitement. Though it had only been a few days, he felt like he had always been wanting her. He knew he could have taken her that second and had one of the best fucks of his life, just from the hunger he felt. He was starving, but he was going to pace himself. He sucked on her nipple, flicking it with her tongue, loving the way her fingers dug into him. Her need matched his. He looked at her, grinning.

“Misha,” he said, his voice thick with passion. He tried to think of something smart and eloquent that would tell her that what he was feeling was more than just lust and friendship. The only words that came to mind were too heavy to ask their short time together to support, so he just shook his head and chuckled.

“I need you.” It wasn't a fraction of what he wanted to say, but it would have to do. He kissed her between her breasts, and traced down with his tongue, moving across her belly. His hands slid to her hips and began to slide her shorts down, as his lips paused to kiss her navel, his tongue dipping in.
 
Back
Top