juststopped | for Krem

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krem

for Krem

It isn't the first time she's ended up somewhere she didn't necessarily intend. In private, she's done her fair share of crying over Flemming - she misses her daughter like a part of her, even after so many years - but in public, she's decided to put a brave face on it. After he'd delivered her to her apartment, Krem had told her that he'd be happy to take her for dinner, once she felt more settled. Adaline's done a little bit to make the apartment her own. She's gone back to the place that Sam bought her and put together a capsule wardrobe that's a sad shadow of her guest room back in San Francisco. She is, in short, trying. And that has to count for something.

It's the middle of the afternoon when she texts Krem.

Dinner would be nice - Adaline.

They arrange to meet at a place that Adaline's walked past a few times. It's not a particularly showy place, but she does make an effort, putting on a dress with a full skirt that reminds her of something she might have bought new in the fifties. She does her hair and make-up. She considers heels for a long time and then decides to wear them anyway. Krem strikes her as someone who doesn't lack for confidence, quiet though it seems to be.

She's a little late when she steps into the restaurant, shrugging out of her coat to let the hostess check it for her.

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It was with much regret that Krem had to abandon Adaline's breasts. He kissed each of them on his way down her body, slow and lingering at the top of each one. As he slid off the side of the bed, he gently dragged her to the edge, exerting strength without much brute force.

This time, he lifted only one leg, placing her foot against his chest so that when he leaned in it bent her leg toward her chest. He kissed her cunt sweetly at first, before swiping his tongue filthily against her, purring as he renewed the taste of her in his mouth.

How strong he is makes her feel fluttery in her belly. She's quite content to be moved wherever he wants her. She pushes one hand into his hair, pulling this time, the other grazing over the full curve of one breast. This time, when he feels the press of his tongue, she tips her head back and moans loud enough for him to hear it.

The more relaxed she was, the easier her noises came, the easier it was for Krem to relax into what he was doing to her. For a while, he kept it strictly his mouth, lips and tongue busy against her, teasing at her clip, across the slip folds of her before dipping his tongue into her wet heat. But that was progressively becoming too little for him; he wanted to hear the noises she made as she was driven more and more wild, the sounds on the edges of desire, all the noises she made when she came.

She rocks her hips up against the press of his mouth, her fingers tightening on her breast, squeezing, rubbing her nipple between her fingers. He fingers tighten in his hair, pulling.

"Oh, my God," she mumbles.

He glanced up her body briefly, a steady wonderment at the reaction from her, pleased to be getting it out of her like that. Everything about the way she responded sank through him excitedly. He sighed against her, moaning filthily as she tugged at his hair.

He slid one of his hands up her thigh, thumb rubbing at her cunt briefly, before he gently spread her open. As his mouth slid up to suck gently at her clit, his other hand come up as well, sliding a single finger easily into her, curling just a bit once it was pressed inside.

She likes the sound he makes when she pulls his hair so she twists her wrist and does it again, a little harder this time, as her hips lift, pressing into his mouth, the slide of his finger inside her.

Between his legs, he could feel the distinctive heat of his arousal, the hearing sort of desperation that came along with being with someone else. He could set it aside for the moment, content with the way she had her fingers tangled in his hair and her cunt pressed against his mouth. He rocked his finger to meet her, humming softly, teasing a second finger against her already.

"Don't tease," she says, losing the words to the edge of a moan, squeezing her breast harder, nails pressing into her skin. "God, please, Krem." She rocks her hips rhythmically up against his mouth, grinding up against him without care or reserve.

The soft, plaintive way she said it--still a command with her hand still in his hair, there was no mistaking that she still had control here--made him purr and concede to her wishes. Krem slid his second finger into her, working his hand faster than he had been before. He licked and sucked at her clit, the filthy noise of it and his fingers moving filling up the spaces between her ragged breathing and just driving his body hotter still.

It doesn't take long, with his mouth and his fingers, until she's teetering on the edge of it. She palms her breast, squeezing her nipple, pinching it with her nails, until she tips of the edge and comes, trembling, sobbing, her back arched to press her cunt snug against his mouth.

He could feel the tipping point coming, the way her thighs trembled near him, how her body tensed up a little just before she let out that rapturous noise. He felt her cunt squeeze around his fingers and he groaned, keeping them moving, keeping his mouth and tongue steady as she rocked herself against him, working herself through the tremors of her orgasm.

When it's over - when she's spent - she tugs at his hair lightly, lifting her head to look down at him.

"Come back up here," she says.

He eased back from her slowly, as she began to relax, as her breathing slowed down a bit, at least to only trembling gasps. The tug on his hair made him gasp and laugh breathlessly. He licked his lips, sliding his fingers out of her before he gingerly climbed up onto her bed, doing his best not to dislodge her hand from his hair, letting his gaze scrape over her slowly, admiring her flush and relaxation and contentment.

The first thing Addie does, once he's up on the bed with her, is lean up and kiss him, deep and thorough, his mouth full of the taste of her. She moans, deepening the kiss a little with a nudge of her mouth, the press of her tongue.

"Now you," she says.

Krem was more than happy to kiss Adaline back, to open his mouth and slide his tongue against hers, even to press his body close to hers and map the shapes of her with slow, gentle fingers. Her offer didn't surprise him, but it brought up the worry that these things always did, the bitter discontent in his stomach.

"We don't have to," he said. He trailed the back of his nails down her stomach. "We can give it a moment and go for you a second time."

Adaline frowns a little at that. She doesn't pull away from his hand but she does lean back enough to be able to look him in the face.

"You don't want me to...?"

"I do," Krem said, but there was a note of hesitation. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was still fully clothed, lying in her bed with her, strewn naked and lovely across the blankets. He cradled her hip gently, smudged his thumb across the arch of the bone. "But there's no obligation."

"I'm more than old enough to make my own decisions, Krem," she says, a touch reproachfully. She lies back, blonde hair tumbled across the sheets. "And I'd like to. Please."

He kept his hand on her hip a moment longer, before, not quite reluctantly, pulling his hand from her skin. It was hardly that he was reluctant to be there--far from it--but more that he didn't want to take his hand away from her.

He slipped out of his waist coat and tossed it to meet her clothes on the floor, and then his shirt as well, sitting up for a moment in his binder, covering him from collarbone to diaphragm, and his slacks.

Adaline lies back and watches, comfortable enough in her own body, her own nudity that she doesn't feel the need to cover up as she watches him. She reaches out and brushes her fingers against the fabric across his chest.

Krem pulled the velcro loose at the side of his binder, then pulled it gently off over his head, tossing it to join the rest of their discarded clothing. It left him bare from the waist up, the musculature of his chest and arms defined from years of training, the slope of his breasts small but definite in their weight. He paused, watching her carefully for reaction.

Adaline's gaze doesn't flicker away from him; he's her entire focus. Her eyes dip down from his face to his chest and make again. She shifts, pillowing her head on her arm, looking at him expectantly.

He watched her eyes, the way they moved on his body for a moment, and when she twitched a brow at him he smiled a little. His hands dropped to his belt, opening it, and then his fly. He slid his slacks down his thighs enough to reveal his modest black shorts, the discrete bulge in his shorts. It was slightly less impressive for him to take his pants off than it had been to get Adaline naked; he wasn't nearly so graceful about it.

When they were off though, he sat there in his shorts, contemplating if he should take them off, or take out his packer, or leave the whole business alone for a moment. He stared down at himself, more contemplatively than anything else.

He'd been so confident before and this moment of hesitation opens something soft and tender in Adaline's chest. She sits up, leaning to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, letting a little heat blossom there, a little desire.

"I just want you to be comfortable," she says, gently.

He sighed out, a bit gustily. It was not quite a laugh, but it might have wanted to have been. Like with taking his slacks off, it was a less graceful strip to get out of his shorts. But the quiet assurance, the contact of her mouth so near to his, was a balm.

And then, there was just the two of them. He smiled, soft and open.

"Well. Here's me."

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