That Blue Gibson: Another Round

thirty-two

Her smug smile dropped and her hand shot out to brace herself on the wall when he unzipped his shorts and pushed himself into her with a groan, "You reminded me of the first time we fucked in our kitchen, baby. Does it for me every time."

"Is that why you moved the coffee maker?" she murmured, her eyes falling closed as he worked into her.

"I like to start the day thinking about how fucking amazing you feel."

She whimpered and pushed back against him, upsetting his tempo only briefly. Knowing she was already close he kept one hand on her lower back and reached forward with the other to pull on her chin. "You're biting your lip, Elizabeth."

He fully expected that to do her in, he even had his arm ready to catch her in case her legs gave out, but instead of shuddering and collapsing against him, her green eyes flashed to his in the mirror. Watching her in dazed fascination, she held his stare as she took his finger in her mouth and sucked hard.

"Fuck," he pitched forward against her back and moaned into her shoulder, his head swimming at the sudden change in control.

He was close, so close that the air started to leave his lungs and the little white stars began to sparkle at the edges of his sight, but when she bit down gently on his knuckle and moaned he knew he was done for. Vaguely aware that she was in the middle of her own ecstasy, he wound his arm around her and held her as close as he could manage, feeling her heart drumming against his own.

She was trailing a line of kisses up his wrist and buckling his belt when he finally came to and he let her lean him against the wall while she put herself back together. He watched her, taking in the way she pulled her hair up and into a knot, the way she smiled when she met his eyes in the mirror, the way her skin flushed pink after they fooled around... everything about her was in full color again. 

It was as if she had been in a deep winter, pulled underground by the heaviness of snow only to return with the warmth and bloom back into a bigger, brighter, better version of what she had been before. He'd been through winters of his own, but he'd always come out on the other side feeling like he'd left something behind. Still, he was called resilient even though he never quite felt like he'd earned that title and now he could just point to her if people wanted to see true resiliency. "Just look at her," he could say, "Just look at her."

Once they were coherent and put back together, he made her go back to their seats first and allowed himself a good five minutes to catch his breath before following. The second he collapsed into the chair, her head was on his shoulder and she handed him a fresh coffee.

"The flight attendant knew, didn't he," he said quietly, scanning the small plane for any signs of him.

Liz just laughed into her sip of coffee, "He totally knew."

The spent the rest of the short flight either looking out the window onto the deep green landscape below or sitting in comfortable silence, their hands clasped together and her head on his shoulder. It wasn't until the plane finally landed and parked at the gate before either of them had any desire to move.

"Oh, that's the one I haven't read yet!" Liz jumped in surprise as an elderly woman leaned into their space and pointed a sharp hot pink fingernail at the book on her lap. "How is it?" she exclaimed in a deep southern accent that reminded Dave of northern Florida.

"So good," Liz said with an exaggerated nod and reluctantly sat up. "I've actually finished it, would you like to have it?"

"Oh my goodness, I couldn't just-"

"Of course you can," Liz insisted, thrusting it towards the woman, "Books are meant to be shared."

"Well that's so kind of you, young lady!" she drawled and looked up at Dave, "Looks like you have a Mr. Grey of your own anyway!"