keptherwaiting | 2023 - Near Paris, France

“It has been roughly six hours since the last,” Jasper jokes, pulling away from her whispers only to chase her lips with his own.

He tugs her off the counter and into his arms as soon as he captures her in a kiss.

“Memory of a goldfish,” Alice quips, squeezing his waist with her knees as she wraps herself around him, cradled in his arms.

She presses her forehead against Jasper’s after breaking the kiss, just breathing him in as she threads her fingers through his hair. “We can just kiss a bit if you wanna—there’s lots of pictures to hang and things to fold still, if you don’t wanna bang me on this counter right now.”

Her words are punctuated with a long-suffering sigh and a pout. “I guess.”

Her pouting is too much. It is an art she has perfected.

Jasper laughs.

“Well, I had been plannin’ to take you right here and bang you on this counter, but now I’m concerned because you brought up the Honey-Do list and what’ll happen if I keep puttin’ off on hangin’ those pictures?”

“They’ll keep,” she whispers, hands sliding down his arms until she reaches low enough to start tugging at his shirt.

Alice manages to pull the hem of the shirt up enough to free it from between them, so she can skate her fingers on the bare skin of his abdomen underneath. She shifts, needy for him as she so often is, her mouth leaving a trail of kisses and nips across his jaw and throat.

“We won’t,” she pants against his skin, her fingers moving higher up his chest, tangling herself in his shirt. “Use the kitchen for anything else, after all.”

Jasper, even if he hadn’t been joking, doesn’t know if he could escape now. He’s helpless for her.

He adjusts his grip, settling her back on the counter so he can slide his hands under the skirt of her dress.

“Well, it’s not like we haven’t been making the rounds of defilin’ the different rooms of the house,” he murmurs, throat bobbing against her lips from her touches and kisses.

His fingers skate along her thighs, teasingly.

Her hips buck forward at his fingers on her thighs, stuttering the slide of her hands under his shirt for just a moment.

Then she’s back to curling her fingers, nails scratching lightly against his skin, her lips curling into a small against his throat.

“Gotta christen them all,” Alice whispers, humming softly under her breath. “Our first house with just us. Can’t just let these rooms go unused.”

Jasper has been so used to holding back with his powers. Even when they’d find a secluded spot or a weekend away, he’d be in control. Now, though, in the quiet of their own house with no one for miles, he’s begun to truly let go.

The thrum of their twin desires fills the room around them, the air choked with it, the feelings amplified, as Jasper’s hands finds her hips beneath the skirt of her dress and pulls her flush against him.

“God, Alice,” he murmurs, moving against her sinuously as he toys with the thin straps of her undergarments.

His mouth captures hers is another hungry kiss.

She inhales sharply, lips parting under his, tongue darting into his mouth to slide against his.

Her hands grip the edge of his shirt, pushing it up, up, up until they’re almost tangled in it. Alice breaks the kiss to yank the shirt over his head and toss it behind him somewhere on the kitchen floor.

Her ankles cross at his back, keeping him pulled tight against her before she nips at his bottom lip with a soft growl, kissing him again.

She makes him feel so feral with how greedy he gets for her.

The thick of their desire would be a fog if could manifest physically. His own pulls at hers eagerly.

He bends her back as nips and bites at her lips, licking his way into her mouth, as soon as his shirt is discarded and forgotten on the floor.

His hands tug at her underwear to strip them off of her with a clear rip of thread and fabric. He grips at her bottom tightly then as he grinds against her with an answering growl.

A whine leaves her when he grinds against her, his pants an overwhelming texture against her bare skin.

She feels like she could fly apart—before this house, alone in France, it had been so long since he’d been able to truly be free with his powers. Alice had almost forgotten what it could be like and now she’s desperate to never forget again.

“Jasper,” she gasps, rolling her hips against his, his name a breath of air against his lips, wanting to stay as close as possible. “God—I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs, and his mouth leaves hers to drop to her neck where he nips at her skin, the barest scrape of his teeth.

He moves against her as if in a dance, a constant push and pull of their hips, the friction unbearable and perfect all at once.

His teeth sink in a little harder, not enough to break skin or scar, but enough as if to make his claim. He licks at the spot not a moment later before sucking gently on her skin.

This time, the gasp of his name is punctuated by a jerk of her hips and a soft, strangled noise. His teeth, the claim—he makes her weak.

Her fingers curl into the waistband of his pants, fiddling idly for a moment before slipping to the closure, fumbling at the button as she tilts her head back to give him more room to work.

“I need you,” Alice bites at her lip, finally undoing his pants enough to slip her small hand inside of them.

His breath hitches at the first touch of her hand and then he utters a soft growl as he bucks into her tight fist as she encircles him.

And then what follows is a flurry of movements.

Him, pulling away just enough to wiggle his pants down to his ankles. Her, skirt hitched higher around her waist. Hands moving, grasping, and swears uttered until finally - finally - as he sinks into her.

“Fuck.”

He barely gives them both a chance to catch their breaths before he’s moving, thrusting into her, grinding against her, lost in the haze of their emotions.

Alice curses under her breath, her hands moving to curl at his shoulders and cling to him as he moves inside and against her. Her foot slips at the small of his back and she’s fighting with the layers of fabric that make up her skirt, to keep them at her waist.

“Wait,” she mutters, pushing him away and shuddering at the loss of him when he slips out of her. Her resolve weakens for a moment but one look at him, the way his eyes smolder and the fall of his hair in his face and she’s scrambling off the counter to rid herself of the troublesome skirt.

Her fingers make quick work of the zipper, letting the fabric whisper around her ankles, then she’s pulling her shirt off too, for good measure, leaving the impractical, lacy bra on for the tease of it all.

Then, Alice takes his hand, placing it on her hip as she leans over the counter, her backside rubbing against him when she arches back into him. “Okay,” she whispers, tossing a grin over her shoulder, “I’m all yours, cowboy.”

Jasper had kicked off his boots, shoving his pants away from underfoot as she’d shed her dress and now he steps back into her space as she arches into him.

“Jesus, Alice.”

His gaze is dark, hungry and fierce, as he spins her around, pressing her back against the counter to kiss her once more.

Kissing her breathless, hungrily, until she’s gasping and needing and then he picks her up, always so effortlessly and easily, and has her spread out on the kitchen table in a blink.

He likes her like this, spread out before him and he wants to taste her, wants to put his mouth to her and make her cry out and bring her to the edge repeatedly, but he also just really wants her.

He grabs one of her hands and moves it to her own center to touch herself, even as he guides himself back into her.

They only use the table as a collecting place for the odd piece of mail or receipt and a few flutter to the ground as he spreads her legs wide and starts thrusting into her, fast and hard enough that the table skids against the old stone flooring.

One hand clutches the edge of the wood, her breath hitching in time with the thrust of his hips. Her other hand is still for a moment, caught up as she is in watching her husband.

The way his arms cage her in against the table, the stretch and burn of him inside of her, the way he holds her legs wide. The look of pure concentration, the wrinkle of his brow.

Her fingers move against herself, and she arches into them, into him, her teeth tight on her bottom lip. She loves him, loves him so much.

“God, Alice. You’re so beautiful,” he says, voicing his thoughts as he fucks her with a steady, unrelentingly assertive pace.

His gaze is still dark and hungry, focused only on her, and that little wrinkle in his brow grows more pronounced as he concentrates on her pleasure, pulling at the tendrils of it and heightening it with each stroke of her fingers over herself.

God, if anyone walked into the room right now, they’d be swept away by the lust and the love, and the pleasure too. Anyone in the house, really. And yet, no one will. Because they’re alone for once. Truly alone, and Jasper can just feel.

It coats them, blankets her, and chokes the room, the tendrils of it sinking into the wood and the stone and the walls like an unseen fog spreading.

It’s dizzying and intoxicating.

It chokes her, makes everything else a haze she doesn’t see or notice, not when his feelings for her coat her like a heavy blanket.

Her feelings in return—reverberated and fed into his, a never ending cycle of want and need and love. They feed off of each other, always have, for better and worse. This is for better, always—

Alice gasps, her body alight as he toys with the threads of her desire as her fingers circle herself, dip lower to brush where Jasper sinks into her. Her had slides to rest at his hip bone, palm flat against his skin as she licks her lips, tries to find words in the heavy fog overtaking her mind.

“I love you,” she manages, her fingers curling, nails scratching at his skin. “God—Jasper, you’re so amazing, I love you.”

“Fuck,” Jasper growls, low and raspy rough, and he grips her hips tight as he starts pounding into her. “I love you too. Jesus, darlin’.”

The table skids against the floor and the wood creaks beneath her at the fast-paced movements, and Jasper only just manages to sweep her up and into his arms when the table leg snaps.

He’d only seen it happening in a way because he’s so aware of everything at the moment. How her skins feels against his, every little sound their bodies make as they come together again and again, the feelings coursing through and around them, the thick cloud of desire and pleasure that makes every hair stand on end.

“I’ll fix that,” he promises with a breathless laugh, not even pausing for a moment in their love-making as he holds her easily in his arms and he moves her over him again and again.

Edited 2020-10-09 17:25 (UTC)

She giggles as the world upends, the table snapping under her and then she’s upright, safe in Jasper’s arms.

The laughter cuts short, though, caught in her throat as a moan works it’s way out instead, at how he holds her easily, works her over him with no problem at all, standing.

She’d be lying if this wasn’t secretly a favorite thing of hers (well, not so secret between them)—the way his hands spread to hold her weight (negligible to him, anyway), the way he handles her like it’s nothing at all.

Moving her hands to his shoulders, Alice squeezes her fingers tight, shuddering as she draws closer and closer to the edge with every thrust. Her forehead rests against Jasper’s, her lips parted as she breathes heavily through them. “Fuck, baby—you’re so, I can’t—“

“I know,” he murmurs, his lips moving against hers, breaths mingling, “God, I know. Just let go, darlin’.”

Her being so close only feeds his own, and he adjusts his grip and moves her faster.

“I love you,” he pants, “I love you so much.”

He says it, and she breaks, as if his permission was all she needed. It washes over her like water, radiating outward from her core, the rest of the room falling away.

Her knees squeeze his sides tight, her hands tight in the ends of his hair as her head falls back, as his name and curses tumblr past her lips in a steady stream.

Trembling, pulsing around him, all Alice can do is hang on to Jasper as he moves her, as everything becomes overwhelmingly too much in the haze of their mutual lust and love.

Jasper presses his face to her neck, eyes squeezed shut, an utterance of a groan and a growl as he rides her through her orgasm.

It burns through him, tugging incessantly at his own, as surely as the squeeze of her knees against his sides and the tight grip of her hands in his hair.

He grips her tighter, moving her faster, chasing it, and he follows her with a shout muffled by his mouth pressed to her neck.

She’s dragging him up to kiss almost immediately, hard, licking her way into his mouth, panting against his lips as she strokes his hair, vaguely smoothing the mess her fingers had left.

“I love you,” Alice gasps, her legs still trembling at his sides, her whole being still alight with passion and love and so much. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he says, the words nearly lost, muffled against her mouth as he steals another kiss. He holds her close until the trembling subsides for the both of them and then he turns to set her on the counter.

The room is still blanketed with their emotions, heavy with it, and it’s dizzying still. Jasper presses his forehead to hers with a sigh, and then he laughs.

“God, Alice. We really would get more done if we could keep our hands off each other and stop breakin’ the furniture,” he teases. “Stop distractin’ me, Mrs. Whitlock.”

But, even now, he could take her again, right then and there.

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