The Reunion

I drew a deep breath to slow my heart rate, and smiled for what seemed the millionth time that evening, as George slickly slid the keycard into it's slot and opened the suite's door with a quiet chirp and the faint growling moan of mechanized tumblers.

He turned an arched eyebrow toward me with a pleased grin, and opened the door with a flourish. "After you, my lady..." he drawled in the deep baritone of his Memphis and whiskey-laced voice.

As always, it made me tingle.

He'd been making subtle comments like that all night, playing the part of the English gentleman, to "Butter your transition back Stateside", so he said. I'd only come back from London, officially, to attend his sister's wedding; unofficially to celebrate his new job and simply spend time together. He was intent on keeping me here this trip.

We'd met on the first day of our third year of University at Berkeley several years ago, both of us having transferred to that coast of the world to get away from our families. We were each very much out of place in Northern California's most bizarre major cultural center, and we gravitated toward one another like bees to nectar. Well, I suppose he was like the bee, in that little analogy; I, the flower, opening to his touch and allowing him access to all of the nectar he wished to partake.

We'd been inseparable for two years, free with our hearts and love, instant and abiding in our certainty we were meant to be together forever... in the way of all passionate youth, I suppose. We met each other's families, much to their great pleasure, and had plans to move in together in Boston, where he had been accepted to law school, and where I could continue onto my Masters in Philosophy.

But it was not to be. Two weeks before graduation, my mother passed away, and I return home to England in a state of distress that outlasted both the summer and start of term. She had been killed by a reaction to an improperly prescribed blood pressure drug, and the subsequent trial stretched on for three years. I am the eldest, and while we're not a family of classical structure, and while I once yearned for my escape, it nevertheless left my heart empty to think of leaving my father and brothers behind in the wake of her death.

George was a rock for the first year, and I loved him all the more. But distance only works if there is a known end in sight. And as he settled into his second year of law school, I slowly at last began to pack up my mother's belongings, having situated myself into her role as caretaker of the household. I honestly couldn't give him an estimate of how long I would be. My youngest brother was only going into his fourteenth year, and that was a daunting figure in our minds. It led to frustrated discussions and days of silence as we retreated from one another into our respective, and now separate lives.

Eventually, we both moved on, into hesitant and half-hearted pursuits of romance with others, many of whom were unfortunate enough to desire more from us. We didn't discuss such matters in what became our weekly conversations or emails, though we both knew. Although we relegated one another to the title 'best friend', we still remained uncomfortable with the duties in such a role, and did not grant one another the usual privileges of such a position.

And now, here we were. Far down the road from the week that summer long ago when he came across the sea to comfort me. Four years since I last was warmed by the caress of his eyes. Too long since I last felt my body react as it was this night - as it had since seeing him that morning, leaning against his car outside baggage claim.

Thankfully neither of us were required to do anything at the ceremony the next day, for that evening's rehearsal dinner was a blur. All I remembered clearly were the eyes that kept stealing my glances away from the bride, and the electric touches to my arm and thigh as we sat as close together as possible. Even the food served was lost to me. All I could smell was his scent beside me, and all I could taste were the flavors of him that rose to my tongue from the subsequent memories of his body in my mouth. Yet we hadn't so much as kissed all day.

I stepped into the room with a soft smile, my gaze lingering on his as I passed close, my clutch dangling from my fingers along with my heels, having taken them off in the plushly carpeted elevator. The room was as expected: spacious and richly appointed, with a huge bed, sofa, table, chairs, and a bathroom that looked to be as large, though I didn't go in. Typical DeLyon family style accommodations. I didn't comment that his parents, who had rented rooms for the family who flew in for the wedding, were obviously in favor of our getting back together.

I leaned my back against the wall of the small entryway, watching him close and lock the door, before turning to look at me with a long, silent gaze. God, I'd missed the sight of him. Tonight he wore a light blue button up shirt with simple, dapper black tie and black slacks. My breath held under his scrutiny, my body wrapped in a simple dark blue spaghetti strap dress that hugged my torso before flowing loose from my waist to my bare knees. It was suitably elegant without upstaging the bride to be. My hair, normally quite unruly for all its sleekness, had behaved admirably well this evening, remaining in it's twist, off my shoulders. The ears, neck and throat over which his eyes roamed held no adornment.

The corners of my mouth compressed in a faint smile that lit my eyes more than my face. I knew I hadn't changed much in the years since our parting, and nor had he, physically. But while there was no mistaking the spark - hell, the inferno - that still existed between us, I wondered if his tastes for such expression had changed any. Was I still enough for him?

His gaze lingered over my frame for a heartbeat longer than I could bear, and my breath released in a steady push. He smiled slowly, gave a slight nod, and turned back to the door, opening it just enough to slip the "Do not disturb" sign around to the front knob. Shutting it again and relocking it, he faced me once more, slowly moving toward me, his eyes fixed on mine.

My face tilted up to his as he came to rest against me, pinning me gently to the wall, the smell and warmth of him enveloping me a moment before his lips find mine. The clutch and shoes fell from my fingers as my hands found him, sliding up and over his shoulders as his hands found me in turn, running the length of my body from shoulder to thigh, pulling us close.

It was as if no time had passed. No other style of kiss had become more comfortable for either of us; no lips more familiar or well-mapped. Without thought, my arms wrapped about his head, my leg lifted in his hand, and he pressed us to the wall in blissful passion. A dam somewhere deep within me broke, and I cried silent tears as I drank him in hungrily. He didn't comment; didn't wipe them away or shush me soothingly. He just kissed me, long and deep, his face and cheeks wetting with my emotion. He trailed his kisses over my jaw and took my throat in their sweet embrace. I felt his tongue on me for the first time in years, and sobbed with relief and longing in a sudden burst of sound.

He kept me on that wall for some time, his mouth tracing over my exposed skin, his hands exploring the covered and hidden places he still knew so well. He turned me on it, pressing me against it firmly with his body as he found the skin on the nape of my neck with his warm and wet touch. He held me in place as he kissed down along my back, the zipper of the dress parting for his lips. By the time I faced him again and my tears had slowed and stopped, I felt as if they were the only dry part of me, and I looked to him with love and lust that I saw reflected back at me from his own shining gaze.

I bit my lower lip softly and slid out from his embrace, taking his tie gently in my fist and walking slowly backward toward the bed, my bare feet skimming over the rich rug in a slow step. "I warn you now, I'm not going to be able to control myself..." I said in a voice softer and more breathy than I had intended to use. "I've wanted you from the moment I saw you this morning.

"And I've wanted you from the moment I saw you over six years ago," he replied, following easily, as his hands unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned the slacks. It was a testament to his own ardor, this act, as he knows I love undressing him; it made me smile with ridiculous giddiness that he still wanted me as much as I did him and couldn't wait.

It was the longest trek to a bed over so short a distance that I'd ever been a part of. We never halted the gravitational pull of the sheets while our clothes fell away. I pulled close to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt, the thin straps of my dress falling off my shoulders, causing me to spill forth, the sewn-in bra tumbling away with the rest of the material. He moaned softly at seeing this, and I could almost feel the air swell along with him. My hands slid into his open shirt and lifted it free of his shoulders as he kicked off his shoes and let the loose slacks fall away with his boxers. I felt the incredible hard heat of him against my bared stomach and quickly pushed the dress down over my hips, hooking my knickers along with it, exposing me fully. He quickly lifted each of his knees in turn, in a jolting motion to remove his socks, while I unceremoniously unfastened the clips holding my twist in place. We tumbled to the bed just in time, his heat pressing down upon me as much as his weight, my legs moving to his sides, my hair fanning out behind me while I held onto his neck. We landed in a kiss, and did nothing else for a long electric moment. He was perfectly placed in our fevered sprawl, his girth nestled between my extremely wet folds, pinned between us against his belly. I felt myself slowly tighten beneath him, the warmth of his chest contracting the ends of mine to taut bundles of nerves.

He broke our kiss in a low moan as he slid along me, parting me with a slick heat that caused my breath to catch. His head dropped down my neck, eliciting short gasps from me at the nips he gave to the tender skin on his way to my breasts. My gasp that accompanied his mouth on my nipple was not as short. I arched and moaned under his circling tongue, his gentle teeth, his throbbing heat that was making my hips writhe for more. "I've missed you," he breathed as he passed to the other side, pumping a quick stroke along the slick bare valley he has bridged below.

My hands moved steadily along his back, his shoulders, into his hair; my nails finding him with the gentle scratches I knew he loves. At each new touch, each teasing pump of his girth upon me, sliding over my clit with hot, wet softness, my hands tightened on him and my legs squeezed. The words that came from me were not my own, I'm sure, so lost in obsession they seemed. "Oh, god, George! Please... please, I can't wait... I can't... I can't... please take me... please... please..."

Whether it was by pity or a mad desire of his own, he did as I begged him. Knowing it would certainly happen more than once this night, he slid his length down, down, the head of him splaying the bottom of my opening firmly, stretching me in a delicious, throbbing press. Holding there only long enough to hear me whimper once more, already so hard and wet from my own readiness, he slipped inside me easily in one long stroke, with mini heartbeat-like pumps as his length was coated in my desire, that seemed to last forever in the ecstasy it brought me. I must have given a cry at each half inch the first several inches, until I dissolved into a continuous, delirious coo. With a shudder and a moan that vibrated through him and into me, seeming to bounce in percussive waves inside my breasts, his pubic bone touched mine, cradling my clit, and I squeezed him in a full embrace both inside and out.

He held there a long while, our bodies speaking to one another in throbs and pulses and currents of radiating electricity, our heart beats vying for harmony of rhythm. His head bent down to mine, and he took my lower lip, then my tongue into his mouth, sucking gently. I felt his legs shift more securely under mine, and his hands slid from supporting him to my body, roaming over skin that ached to be touched by him. I whimpered once more to his ministrations, and he began to slowly withdraw from me, and then return, his girth moving easily in me, despite my tight grip upon it. My legs encircled him, my knees bringing him toward me with each inward stroke. I squeezed each time he withdrew, and pulled him close each time came back to me.

As his hands found my ass, cupping me to him, opening me further for his every plunge, my mouth found his ear and murmured soft whispers of what he was was doing to me; how he filled me to my deepest parts; how I could feel every throb of him, and wanted to feel the shudder of him, and the hot burst of his release. I breathed my love for him over his skin, and of every second I had missed him, longing to have him inside me once more. I kissed his lips, cheek, chin, throat, neck and ear, taking a lobe in my mouth as my hands pressed him close, trailing light nails over his skin as he drew fresh moans from me with an increased pace to my words. I clung to him tighter as he thrust harder, slowly losing the self-control he'd shown thus far, and I reveled in the hard slap and rough grip as he soared closer to his edge.

I felt my body grow hot in a sudden rush, and focused on his breathing, his body, his hair, the muscles of his shoulders, our warmth and wetness. I bore down harder each time he moved out of me, milking him, sighing at the exquisite feeling of his girth within me, pushing me apart, opening me in rapid succession, my body coating him with the sweet musk I felt running down to wet the sheet beneath me. His hands felt as if they had my ass in a completely closed grip, pulling me apart, bending me to his will. It only added fuel to my passion, and I felt the first pulses of contraction deep within me. "Ohh, love, more..."

His hips jerked into an unbelievably fast pace, and I could tell they soon moved of their own will as he lost himself in the feel of this. "You're... mine, Claire... You're mine... I want... only you..." His cock drew out until just the head remained inside me, then slammed back down again and again, sparking a long streak of lightening across my clit with each pass, his breathing quickening and his moans growing louder, near screams as his back arched away from me.

I held on as if my life depended on it, for in that moment, I surely swore it did -- that if I lost this contact, my very grip on the world would be lost as well. My breath was heavy in ragged moans to his thrusts and words, my fingers losing their hold in a sheen of masculine sweat, and raked his back softly with my nails in an effort to keep holding onto the slick skin of our passion. My squeezes around his cock began to loosen against my will, the muscles beginning a pulsing dance of their own, tightening my body quickly to the point of rapture, and sending shockwaves through my center as he pushed me over the edge in a long, continuous wail of climax, "George... George...! Please! Yes! Pleeeaase...!"

And again he obliged me. Whether from my words alone, or sensing my plunge into oblivion, or that it was simply his time, he went tumbling over the edge of his own climax, his eyes closing and his back arching as he screamed in release, continuing to move for a moment more, before plunging in deep and holding himself there, riding the wave of both our orgasms.

I cried out anew as I felt him explode inside me, my limbs finding strength from somewhere to hold tightly onto him again. In the dim recesses of my conscience, I was slightly disappointed we had passed over together. While I was able to register each exquisite pulse and throb of him within me, I couldn't make out the equally blissful individual strands of liquid heat as they erupted from him. I made a mental note to be sure I did the next time. I had greatly missed his powerful release.

As he came down and began to slacken over me, I rolled us, laying atop him with a slight grunt of effort at dragging his limp weight while keeping him inside me. I collapsed on top of him, breathing hard, and nuzzled in his neck, kissing the skin with soft nips and continuing to squeeze him inside, doing my best to keep him hard. After a few moments, my hips gave small rocks, pleased to see he was still the same in another regard. "Oh, love..." I said, looking to him with a warm, spent smile, "that was amazing." I kissed him again, my fingers running along his cheek and chest as I watched him calm down, seeing his world seeming to spin and reform.

"Oh yes it was. My lady," he responded, kissing me back with a grin and a moan to a squeeze from me inside. "I still want you. It wasn't nearly enough."

I grinned too, brightly, and increased the motion of my hips, rocking him out farther and in deeper, pulling upon him firmly but gently, looking to his face to be sure it's not too much too soon; he wasn't as hard as before, and I knew he was likely overly sensitive at the moment. Leaning forward, I placed both my hands above his head and lowered my mouth to his again, kissing him tenderly as my hips slid my tender folds over the length of his cock in small circles. My breath held each time I squeezed him inside, amazed by the uncanny feeling that my shuddering pussy was a separate entity, starved and yearning in it's own right. "I love you, Jorje," I said with a soft smile, using the nickname I'd given him from our California days, bewildered at the way the tears sprang to my eyes yet again. I rolled them and shook my head, looking back to him sternly, as if it was his fault my emotions were so out of control. "George. Stop it," I chided, smiling.

He tenderly reached a hand to my cheek, cupping it gently, and drew me down to his lips. As we slowly broke the caress, I felt the fingers of his other hand close suddenly on my nipple, drawing a quick breath into me and a throb through my body. I arched in his swelling reply to my squeeze, and moaned at his thrust, feeling him suddenly hardening.

"Oh, that's it... That feels good, darlin'..." he crooned beneath me, his voice husky as his fingers further explored my sensitive places.

Moaning to the new thrusts, my eyes closed and my body trembled violently at sustaining the slow pace after such a huge release a moment ago. I realized that I was not used to this. Stopping him with a firm press of my hips, I pushed back and down onto him to thrust him as deep as he could go inside me. "Ahhmmm..." I smiled, looking down at his adorably pained face at my halting what he had just been longing to start again. I gave him a long squeeze as I slid slowly up and off him, taking him in my hand as he came out of me. His essence trickled out of me and coated him liberally, the trails of it running down my thigh as I lifted one leg off him to the side, rubbing his torso with one hand while bending down to feed my mouth with the other.

My eyes flicked up to his at his cracked moan, my tongue working with gentle care over the slick skin. The smell of our combine sex filled my senses as my head dropped lower with long, sucking strokes of his cock. Both hands turned to the task, sliding along with my mouth, rubbing in twists on the way up and down his length, pulling the skin taut as he passed into my throat or for an occasional long suck. "God, I missed this..." I moaned, adding vibration to my work as my lips passed over his head once more.

His hips bucked wonderfully under the attention, and his moans grew louder, his whole body squirming at my touch. "Oh my god, so did I!" He lifted his head to watch me; to watch himself sliding in and out of my hands and mouth, my cheeks and lips and tongue caressing him wetly with soft, loving warmth. "Oh, Claire..." His hands found my hair, slipping into it and tightening with firm pleasure, causing me to moan in turn.