Unbreakable - Surviving the Truth · (Roswell Fanfiction) ·

ELEVEN

My moans bounced off the shimmering walls, the sounds of pleasure remaining within the confines of the room. 

His hands moved down my naked body, stable warm fingers swept along the curves of my breasts and waist. The wetness from his mouth was drying on the side of my neck by the time his lips touched the bony protrusions of my hip bones.

My hips lifted, pulled towards his touch, desperate for the pleasure he could provide, while the back of my head pressed into the mattress, the arching movement proceeding slowly through my yearning body. 

I was acutely aware of every brush of his body against mine. Every time the dark hairs on his thighs brushed against the sensitive skin of my own thighs, having small bursts of electricity trickle through me.

Like two highly charged entities, there were (almost) literal sparks whenever - and wherever - our bodies came into physical contact. 

His feelings of desire - his lust - was throbbing inside of my body, just like I knew my own was resonating inside of him. The knowledge alone that he was completely naked, that he was touching me intimately, that he could make me come with a puff of breath against some highly enticed areas, was highly erotic to me. 

Knowing that he had such power over me and still decided to not abuse that power, was arousing. I had given my body up to him, to his ministrations and his love, and it was beautiful how he decided to cherish it. How his main focus was to give me pleasure.

In the end, my pleasure was his. And his pleasure was mine. It truly was a win-win situation.

My moan was disrupted by my gasp as his fingers suddenly touched me intimately. I felt his lust-filled eyes on my face, saw my own flushed face with closed eyes through the image projected into his mind, as he inched one finger inside of me.

Having him move his finger in and out of me in that slow rhythm that imitating the actual act of lovemaking was almost more seductive and sensual than actual intercourse. This way his focus was completely on me, his eyes watching every small nuanced movement on my face, his ears drinking the sounds from my mouth, his free hand on the curve of my waist soaking up every tremble and quake of my pulsating body, without his attention being distracted by his own pleasure. This way he was changing his touch in response to the noises I made, changing the pace according to the movement of my hips.

Adding a second finger, he leaned forward over my abdomen to trail slow and deliberate kisses along the midline of my stomach. His fingers loved me at a faster pace as his lips enclosed my nipple, his tongue flickering the engorged tissue, and rather expectantly bringing my orgasm crashing into my body like an electric storm. My walls contracted convulsively around his fingers while I fisted the sheet in my hands. 

Slowly, I landed in reality, my hips lowering to the solidity of the mattress, Max slowly removing his fingers from my heated core. 

I could still feel the warmth from the energy cap Max was keeping alive across the opening to my cervix. It was not much, only a subtle pleasurable warmth. I had come to realize that the warmth was magnified in the moment of climax, working to immediately remind me of our secondary objective in doing this.

Birth control.

But keeping the protection up during my release had proved to not be a problem. At that point, Max was always incredibly in tune with what was happening to me, in his attempt to guide me to the most explosive orgasms, that his control over the energy protecting my cervix was kept intact.

The problem was his own orgasm. Our 'results' concerning that problem had been worryingly inconsistent. Sometimes it worked, most times it didn't. The energy from his own release disrupted everything, made him lose control of his abilities in general - if only for a couple of seconds. But that could be enough.