hellorhighwater | [GENESSIA] Inbox

Neil’s gaze lifted from the dishes on the cart to meet her gaze, and lost his breath again at the look in her eyes. It didn’t help, either, that there was something else exciting about Regina when she got bossy—she was hot as hell when she got bossy...

He thought for a moment about pushing it, making her tell him to do it flat out. He knew she had issues with being sure of what he wanted, so he thought better of it and just reached down to slide open the button on his fly, tugging at it just a little so the zipper slid open about a quarter of the way. All the while, he held that unabashedly hungry gaze she leveled at him, his own darkening with need at the same time as he smirked, then without comment continued picking through the contents of the room service cart.

With someone else, that moment while he considered her request might have turned into a contest of wills: her gaze hardening into a demand, his flattening in stubbornness. For whatever reason, between them, the moment remained quiet and open. He could have denied her without raising her ire, and she simply waited willing to let it be entirely his choice.

So when he made the decision, did as she'd asked without comment, fuss, or unnecessary seduction, it sent a frisson of pleasure up her spine. It meant, too, that she could appreciate the view unabashedly, and she made no bones about doing so.

While her gaze slid down his chest and his abdomen, her tongue touched her top lip. She wet her bottom lip and caught it between her teeth while her lust-darkened gaze dipped into the opened V of his jeans to caress that soft, intimate skin. Her coal-black eyes smoldered when she lingered on the shadow of his pubic hair curling at the top of the zipper.

So intent on that small patch of skin, she was completely unaware of the way her hands rubbed against the outside of her thighs, palms against them on the way down, and fingers pressed in on the long, slow drag back up.

As Neil sorted out which plates were which, he could feel her gaze even before he let his eyes flick up now and again to watch her as she lost herself in staring. Those eyes sliding over his body, settling on that bare spot where his zipper hung open--it wasn't that different from the familiar feel of her fingers or knuckles rubbing along his stomach or splaying low against his belly, save that he felt like he was being consumed by that look rather than just touched.

And she was so lost in staring that she didn't even realize what she looked like, sitting there, hands running along her legs, coiling slowly like a storm lion about to pounce on the rabbit or blackjack it was about to have for its supper...

Neil had to swallow three times around a mouth and throat gone suddenly too dry to speak before he could get words out.

"I, uh--I got some real food to go with the pancakes and sweets." he rasped, voice gone husky with desire as he lifted his eyes to watch her face again. "What're you hungry for first? Real food, or dessert?"

"Food," she answered, lashes lifting and eyes widening just so over a wicked crescent of a smile. She might not know what she looked like to him in that moment, but she saw--oh yes, she saw--the effect she'd had on him.

There was a danger point, hovering out there, where she tipped from playfully predatory to cruelly so, and this was new for them, so she'd have to trust him to let her know if he felt objectified in an uncomfortable manner. Right now, it seemed held at bay by her own awareness that she adored him. That she loved him beyond breathing. That whenever he lifted his gaze to hers, it filled her with such thronging flutters that she felt overfull to bursting, like a perfectly ripened juicy plum.

"We can work up an appetite for dessert."

Ember's Balls, he loved that smile, that little edge between dark and light--that fucking hunger that made her look even more like a hungry storm lion about to strike.

For one split second, he just wanted her to: wanted her to strike him down, take what she wanted, be it his body, his soul, or just his throat when he offered it to her.

Swallowing around that powerful, fleeting urge, he just nodded--then hesitated, remembering for some reason a stupid movie he'd seen in his own world, something with a big wrestler and the guy who said the thing, the one in the mask...

It took him a second to remember the line, and when he did he smirked at her, then nodded again.

"As you wish." he replied, far too pleased with himself as he gave his attention to the cart again, putting a plate of food together for each of them.

Those three little words, she knew from having seen the film roughly a dozen times, meant three other little words, and even knowing how he felt, the allusion dropped her figurative knees out from under her.

I love you, too.

"Fetch me that glass of water, farm boy," she murmured, not entirely sure he'd recognize the allusion. But she needed him to stop playing with their food for a minute and come where she could feel his skin under her hands. The lust hadn't bled out her eyes or the pit of her stomach. It had just taken a momentary backseat to the flutters of love that kept her inner Bitch in check.

He did recognize it, and for a brief moment the smirk broadened to a bright, boyish grin of delight because she'd recognized it. The sweetness of its light quickly turned to something that burned hotter, with that look still in her eyes and the double meaning of the command making his chest tight with emotion--and the fact that he was still letting her boss him around making his own belly clutch with slow burning lust.

Without breaking her gaze, Neil moved around the side of the cart, reaching out to pick up one of the glasses of water sitting on it, then came to stand in front of her, looking down with a smile as he extended it out to her.

"As you wish."

Her gaze devoured him, every shift of muscle beneath his skin, every line of his body as his arm bent and then flexed in extension, the far-too-bright curve of his smile that had irritated her in New Dodge and now made her hunger for the plush warmth of his lips against hers. And that look in his eyes, like he couldn't decide whether to drop to his knees or shove the cart aside and ravish her--it set off sparklers of desire at the base of her spine.

Gaze still locked to his, she reached out for the glass, but bypassed it to trail her fingers over the inside of his wrist first to see if it occasioned a similar reaction to before. "Someone promised me pancakes and ice cream for dinner," she murmured, still stroking his skin.

Much like before, his breathing grew notably erratic, catching and stuttering as her fingers ran along the inside of his wrist, electric and strangely comforting at the same time. For a second, it brought all his thoughts to a screeching halt, narrowed the world to that single point of contact that pressed the air out of his lungs and rained sparks over every nerve in his body.

Then the world broadened again, and he managed to pull her voice out of the air, out of his memory of the last couple of seconds--and was weirdly proud of himself for not dropping the glass of water still in his hand.

"Ordered both." he confirmed, voice rough with need despite clearing his throat. "Hope you like vanilla."

Although he'd said as much already and she'd been encouraging him to finish plating the food and give it to her, Regina didn't tease or suggest his stupid was showing. No, the raw, naked need in his face had nothing in common with his tendency to babble, and it intrigued her.

It wasn't as though there'd been any shortage of sex for either of them the past month, and he'd been restrained and gentle before the food arrived. The only thing that had changed was him taking orders. He had told her repeatedly that he needed a leash; possibly he wanted one sometimes, as well.

"Vanilla's a mainstay. It complements both sweet and spicy." Pleased with both the text and the subtext there, she stroked his wrist again and then took the water glass without dropping his gaze. "But if you want something else, you can order it."

"I, uh--I did." he replied, distracted again by her hand on his wrist, fingers going boneless just as she took the glass from him. He caught, for a second, that she'd been prodding him to get the food--but he was severely distracted by the fact that one tiny touch from her was doing nearly as much for him as taking her to bed. And he'd been flirting, mostly, letting her order him around, but...part of it felt kind of good, at least in the moment.

It probably meant something, but she was still stroking his wrist, and he couldn't put a name to the little twist of longing that came with the touch.

Taking a deep breath, he blinked hard to try and clear the haze of lust clouding his head--with just enough success to nod towards the cart.

"Something from the world I was born in--it's called a reuben. Type of sandwich." he added as he licked lips gone suddenly dry, fully prepared to turn and grab the plates he'd been loading up...except that would mean pulling his wrist out of her grip, and he...really didn't want to.

The way he reacted, and his complete inability to hear the innuendo in her comment, it set her pulse to racing, and made it difficult for her to breathe steadily. And if she knew anything, it was that if he was losing his head, she needed to keep hers; they'd more or less agreed to the other evening.

So while she nodded, said "Granny made a good one," she tightened her grip on his wrist just slightly, and drank several long swallows of the icy water and focused on the chill of it going down--even though she couldn't quite avoid the dip of her gaze to where the swollen head of his cock just barely protruded from his open jeans.

"Kneel for a me a minute, love?" she asked softly, gesturing with the water glass to the space just in front of her on the couch. It wasn't a command, like before. He was coming unraveled, which made at her feet a safe place for him to be.

When her grip on his wrist tightened, Neil's breath rushed out of his lungs in a long, ragged sigh--and weirdly, he felt some tension go out of him, felt strangely grounded despite the way his body burned for her hands, her mouth, for every part of her he could get his hands on...

He wasn't even thinking as he sank to one knee in front of her--then brought his other leg down, kneeling at her feet rather than simply genuflecting, as he might before the throne of the Night Dragon back home.

Down on his knees like this, in front of Regina...it took him worlds away from thoughts of home when he brought himself back to the moment. No, this was nothing like kneeling before his king: this felt beautifully, impossibly good, it felt safe.

It felt...right.

As he knelt, she drank another long swallow of ice water and then set the glass aside to move to the edge of the couch. She hardly waited for the second knee to touch the ground before she reached out to cradle his jaw in her hand, tilt his head up enough so she could look into his eyes.

A significant part of her wanted to take the space he was in and use it. Kiss him once softly, and leave him to kneel there while she ate. Feed him a bite of food from her plate, press a foot to his crotch and let him rock against it, stroke his hair and then stand and walk away, so that he couldn't see but only hear her. That part wanted to see just how far she could put him into this raw, exposed, vulnerable space and how long he'd stay there.

But they hadn't intended anything like this, and she was still raw from the week and last night especially. While she would happily explore what got him hot, she couldn't let herself do it while teetering at the edge of an emotional precipice. So she didn't do any of those things, only murmured his name and then drew him towards her to rest his head on her knees.

He nuzzled into her hand the moment she cradled his jaw, eyes shutting with another heavy sigh. He wasn’t sure when he stopped thinking, but he had: his head felt beautifully empty, safe and so light he would have floated away if not for the hand on his face, the soft sound of his name on her lips, tethering him to the spot.

She drew his head to rest on her knees, and the lightness felt heavy again, like her fingers wrapped around his wrist. He felt steady, a stone in a swift moving river sinking deeper and deeper beneath the surface. He just had to sit there and breathe, let her touch him...

Bit by bit, that steady feeling crept into Neil’s thoughts, making him feel...more normal. Breath came freer, his head felt less fuzzy and foggy—and as he knelt there with his head on her knees, he felt good, but kind of embarrassed.

He wasn’t totally sure what the hell had happened to his damn brain—but he wanted to figure it out so he could do it again.

Drawing a deep breath, Neil twisted his head to press a kiss to her knee, one hand fumbling to find hers.

“M’ okay.” He sighed, trying to lift his head. “Hey—I’m okay, Regina.”

While he rested with his head on her knees, she smoothed her hand over his hair, and draped her arm across his shoulders to keep him close, warm, and grounded with the weight of it. But her mind roved the last five minutes, reviewing it backward and forward, and lingered on how he'd looked just as he knelt: beautiful, and so very much hers.

Between that and how he'd looked with his jeans opened--as she'd requested, just so, she was more than a little aroused and slick herself. Which was probably why when she raised her hand from his head, she looked down at him with a single eyebrow lifted and a little smirk curving her lips. "I'm glad. Because you look good on your knees."

But she only let the comment rest a beat before she stroked his cheek with her knuckles. "You looked like you might need a minute to breathe."

The look on her face made him grin as he looked up at her, his hand finding one of hers and linking their fingers together. He felt like himself again, even if he missed that pleasant haze just a little. What he liked was that steady feeling, still clinging to his bones--and when she touched his cheek, a little piece of that haze tried to creep back in, but just a ghost of it as his eyes shut and he tipped his head into her touch while his smile grew wider.

"Look good, feel good." he chuckled, opening his eyes to look up at her again. He probably ought to get up, join her on the couch...get her into bed or he was going to lose his damn mind, he wanted her so badly--but he stayed where he was, reluctant to move from his place at her feet just yet.

Instead, he drew their linked fingers in to kiss her knuckles, then just pressed his mouth against her fingers and left them there for a moment, brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"That's...I've never felt like that before." he confessed when he lifted his lips from her fingers. "Was that a spell or something? 'Cause if it was, it was an amazing one."

Did you feel good? she wanted to ask, to clarify, but when he pressed his lips to her knuckles, she waited, giving him time to gather himself, or think, or whatever he needed from his silence. Besides, his kisses always felt like silk sliding against her skin, and she hadn't stopped being aroused because she'd called a temporary halt to the play.

Quiet and still, she watched him, her gaze tracing his furrowed brow and the lines beside his mouth. As always, his face fascinated her with its rugged beauty and bold expressions, and now, in this moment, it drew the fingers of her free hand, beckoning them to follow the path of her gaze--with every stroke of her fingerpads, she wrote confessions of her love into his skin.

It was only a moment, but she'd already lost herself in her study of his face when he spoke, and it took her a moment to orient herself. As she did, she turned her hand to cup his jaw again and her lips curved softly with a knowing smile. "It's chemistry, not magic." She didn't know what chemistry precisely, but she could learn, if she needed to. "Like after you had me in the shower."

Neil's eyes drifted briefly shut as her fingers mapped his face, the blessedly familiar feel of that loving touch both electric and soothing. It started his mind to drifting again, just a tiny bit, a ghost of before. It wasn't enough to distract him--save for the fact that he was still emphatically distracted by the prospect of sex, and the potential benefits of being on his knees while she wore a short enough dress to push up over her hips...

He made himself open his eyes and focus on what she was saying--and it didn't make sense. It earned her another thoughtful frown as he released her hand, letting his fall to rest on her knee, fingers absently tracing the side along the bent curve of her leg.

"But...there was nothing rough to that, and we weren't even having sex." he pointed out curiously, watching his fingers travel higher up her leg, stroking along the line between the hem of her dress and her bare skin. "How are they alike?"

"What I feel," she began, her voice deepened and velveted in response to his potent, focused caresses, as much as the memory of how thoroughly he'd had her. "It's like I step outside my brain, and there's nothing but what I'm feeling."

His fingers strayed beneath the hem of her dress, and she grinned, shook a finger at him, and then caught his wrist to stop him going further. "It's not just the roughness or the sex. It's the trust. Putting myself into your hands. I think that's what happened."

The feel of her fingers catching his wrist again damn near stopped his heart, thrilling and comforting at the same time, bringing his mind to a screeching halt...

...and it made the whole thing a lot clearer in his mind, once he could make the wheels start turning again. The life of a soldier was a life of blind obedience and dealing with its consequences. Life in the service of the Night Dragon wasn't that much different--at the mercy of his king, unable to do anything less than as he was told. Serving as a soldier, as an assassin--forced to trust those he couldn't trust--it required perfect control over absolutely everything else that was remotely within his grasp.

Regina could give him an order, any order...and he could put himself completely into her hands, had put himself into her hands, let himself fall and felt her catch him. Nothing else existed but that, and he didn't have to think or worry or even stay inside his own skin unless she touched him--and that made him feel tethered, connected in a way he never had.

Nothing else existed save for trusting her and getting lost in that connection they shared.

"I get it." he replied simply, a world of understanding in those three simple words...then after a beat he grinned and twisted his wrist free of her grip so he could go back to running his fingers over her bare thigh.

As tempting as it was to ask him to explain what he thought he understood to her, she only lifted both eyebrows, head tilted, to give him an amused look. Her gaze dropped to his fingers, traveled up along his arm to his face, and then dropped again to watch the worshipful way he touched her. It wasn't just love and desire, she'd begun to see: it was service offered without hesitation to his queen.

"Good, because I'm still hungry." A beat, a grin, and she rubbed her foot against the outside of his leg, the arch drawing slowly up from his knee to his thigh in a demonstration of the intimate power she could hold over him. "For food." Then carefully, gently, she lay her foot over the bulge only partially obscured behind his open zipper. "And then for you."

That caress made him smile with its familiarity—how she’d driven him to distraction the first night they spent together, exercising power over him even then...

Neil hissed softly as she rested her foot against his erection, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers stilled on her leg. It was a light touch, careful, but enough to wipe his mind clean of everything but the urge to rut against it, to chase that promise of more. It was almost enough to draw him back down into his own head, to let her have him however she wanted—even if that was not at all.

His own stomach chose that moment to growl then, audibly, ensuring that Regina’s word would be law without the fun part.

Grinning, Neil bent his head to kiss her knee, then started to rise so he could finish with the food—and grit his teeth when his knee wouldn’t immediately obey him, stiff from kneeling too long. Cursing quietly, he planted a hand on the arm of the sofa and leveraged himself up with a huff, carefully bending and flexing it until the stiffness eased and he could use his leg again.

“Dinner. Right.” He agreed...and because he was feeling contrary, zipped his fly back up with a smirk before he set to finish fixing them both a plate.

First food. Then she could have her floor show back.

"Next time I ask you to kneel," Regina said pointedly, because there would definitely be a next time, and a next, and a next--unless he didn't want there to be, which she didn't think was going to be an issue. "There will be a cushion. And if it's too long for comfort, you will tell me." No room for argument, no threat. He knew she could enforce her will for good or ill, so there was no need.

Likewise, she didn't pout or protest when he zipped his jeans. They'd crossed a line, he felt exposed or contrary or whatever he felt, and they both needed to be comfortable and to trust that the other would press pause or stop if things went too far. She did, however, watch him and then glance up to meet his eyes to acknowledge he'd done it.

"Have I mentioned that you're surreally gorgeous?"

"...deal." he agreed, after a pause to protest, then promptly think better of it. Ember's Balls, he was going to get turned on every time she told him what to do from now on.

Well, more turned on than usual.

He was keenly aware of her eyes on him as he finished getting them both food, glancing up as he brought two plates over to the couch to catch her looking. The compliment turned his cheeks a little pink, but he smiled as he sat down beside her, passing her a plate of food, along with cutlery and a napkin before settling his own plate on his lap.

"Once or twice." he quipped, unsure as ever how to handle it when she just--said stuff like that. It made him feel hot and shaky inside, in a really nice way, he just had no idea what to do with it. Pretty words he'd heard before, from women he paid--he was known, feared, admired for his skill and his cruelty, for his fire and his fury.

Knowing that someone saw him as something beautiful, just to look at...it was good in a way he couldn't explain.

"Then you stand me next to an angel like you? And I'm definitely chopped liver." he went on. "Not talkin' myself down, that's just facts."

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six

Re: 9/24 - around quarter to six