It's not often that the two of them end up like this. Their group has split up into various permutations over the years, from realizations of attraction or drunken experimentation or honestly just pure convenience, but Liam and Marisha just don't happen that often.
So he likes to make it last.
He kneels between her legs, kissing a slow line up the inside of her thigh, and feels her fingers threading through his hair as she lets out a fluttery, anticipatory sigh. A gentle press of lips to her center, making her breath hitch just a little. A few laps of his tongue before he's delving in, the very tip of his tongue against her clit and her fingers tightening in his hair.
He alternates between the tip of his tongue and long, flat strokes, his hands curled around her legs to feel her strain as she tries to buck her hips up against his mouth. He can feel her start to tremble, hear the litany of swears pouring from her mouth...and he stops.
"What - oh god, Liam, no, don't stop - " She tugs at his head, which he resists with a grin.
"Do you not want this?" he asks, leaning in to nip at the inside of her thigh. "Do you want it quick?"
She pauses, and a moment later he hears her quiet, breathy reply. "No. Not quick."
"Alright then." And he presses his face back between her legs, elicting a soft moan from somewhere above him.
Marisha, for her part, has fire dancing over every nerve already, and is lost somewhere between no more and don't you dare stop. One hand clutching the headboard, the other Liam's hair, riding the waves of pleasure washing across her body with every movement of his mouth. He leans back at one point, claiming to require oxygen, and substitutes his fingers. It's a rougher, faster sensation, and she relishes the difference, feeling the heat begin to pool low in her body and her hips start to grind down against his hand.
And he stops.
"Fucking shit," she spits, bucking her hips against empty air. "Goddammit, Liam, goddammit -"
And his hand is back, double-time against her clit, and her other hand slams back against the headboard as her body arcs with the sudden fire reintroduced to her veins.
And he stops.
"Fuck!"
He knows she's close, knows it won't take much to tip her over the edge now, and he's careful, using just enough pressure to make her tremble beneath him, then pulling away. She's a mess, dripping wet against his hand and splayed across the bed in whatever direction her muscles decide to go, eyes clenched shut tight.
"How're you doing, babe?"
"Fuck you, Liam."
He chuckles, pulling on her arms to reorient her a bit, and leans over her, kissing a line down her neck. She shivers at the press of his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, shifting her legs to make room for him between them. His cock brushes against her and her whole body quakes, just at that brief touch, and he can't stop the shiver that runs across his shoulders.
"What do you want?" he asks, low and dark against her shoulder.
"I want to come," and it's almost a whine, even as she presses a kiss to his ear, his jaw, his neck. "Please, please, I want - "
The sentence ends in a sharp gasp as he reaches down between them, rubbing the head of his cock against her to collect some of the moisture there, and drives himself into her. A low, satisfied-sounding moan in his ear, her nails pressing into his back, and the feel of her wet and hot and squeezing all around him almost undoes him on the spot.
But she doesn't want quick.
Marisha wraps her legs around his waist, pressing against the small of his back in an attempt to drive him deeper into her, but he leans back and readjusts her legs until her feet rest on his shoulders. The new angle hits something sharp and sweet inside of her, and she feels a shiver run down her spine and into her belly.
Liam rocks back and thrusts into her, making her eyes flutter closed as that sharp feeling washes over her again, and again as his hips rock, setting a slow, sweet rhythm that has little gasps and moans escaping her with every movement. Her body still demands release, and even the air against her skin seems like too much, but the sparks behind her eyes seem, at least for now, to sate the burn of her nerves.
And then, without pausing, Liam's hand reaches down between them and his thumb finds her clit. He starts rubbing against her, first in time with his thrusts, then faster, until Marisha's arching off the bed, hands twisting in the sheets, a long string of nonsense pouring out of her mouth, most of it comprised of four letters.
And he doesn't stop, not this time, and Marisha feels fire pour down her nerves to collect at a single point before her mouth drops open and her head falls back and she lets out a wordless cry of pure relief as the tension drains from her body with a series of pulsing waves.
Liam pauses, just for a moment, resting his head against her leg and collects himself. Marisha's body clamping down around him, the arc of her body and the look of bliss on her face, have all coalesced into an assault on his own desire and self-control. But he regains it, with some difficulty, and as she slumps back against the pillow he moves again, first with the thumb against her clit, and then rocking his hips back into her.
She's so, so sensitive now, and her whole body jerks with each movement against her, an exhausted, detatched sort of giggle bubbling up from her.
"God, Liam - " She interrupts herself with a gasp. "You're trying to kill me."
"Only a little," he grunts, and if she's in the mental state to get the joke she doesn't react, laying a hand over her eyes as she gives himself over to his ministrations.
She comes again, a moment later, with much less fanfare but a release none the less, clenching down around him and biting her lip hard.
And he doesn't stop. He has to switch hands, but he doesn't stop, driving himself into her over and over, watching her body twitch and arch and hearing the sounds she makes as she comes a third, a fourth time.
He feels like he reached his own limit long ago and has been holding on for the sheer sake of seeing her taken apart, sprawled out beneath him and reduced to little more than a bundle of oversensitive nerves. Finally, he drops his hand to the mattress beside her head, leaning over and bending her nearly in half in the process, and lets himself go, fucking roughly into her until the headboard thumps against the wall. She reaches up, grabbing it with both hands in an attempt to muffle it, and he buries his face between her arm and her neck.
Her body is tight around him and she drops one hand down to his back, tracing long lines against his skin, scratching her way back up, and it's the quiet sharpness that sends him over, his cry muffled by her skin as he goes still against her.
It's a long moment before he can move, rolling over to lay beside her and flopping an arm over his eyes. She joins him a moment later, pillowing her head against his chest and draping her arm over his torso.
"Every time," she mutters, exhaustion clear in her voice. "You do this every time."
"I have yet to hear a complaint," he responds.
"Yeah, well." And she seems to lose the sentence after that. Which is fine. He's pretty sure conversation is beyond both of them, at least for the next little while.
Quick (Liam/Marisha, Edging/Overstimulation, NC-17)
So he likes to make it last.
He kneels between her legs, kissing a slow line up the inside of her thigh, and feels her fingers threading through his hair as she lets out a fluttery, anticipatory sigh. A gentle press of lips to her center, making her breath hitch just a little. A few laps of his tongue before he's delving in, the very tip of his tongue against her clit and her fingers tightening in his hair.
He alternates between the tip of his tongue and long, flat strokes, his hands curled around her legs to feel her strain as she tries to buck her hips up against his mouth. He can feel her start to tremble, hear the litany of swears pouring from her mouth...and he stops.
"What - oh god, Liam, no, don't stop - " She tugs at his head, which he resists with a grin.
"Do you not want this?" he asks, leaning in to nip at the inside of her thigh. "Do you want it quick?"
She pauses, and a moment later he hears her quiet, breathy reply. "No. Not quick."
"Alright then." And he presses his face back between her legs, elicting a soft moan from somewhere above him.
Marisha, for her part, has fire dancing over every nerve already, and is lost somewhere between no more and don't you dare stop. One hand clutching the headboard, the other Liam's hair, riding the waves of pleasure washing across her body with every movement of his mouth. He leans back at one point, claiming to require oxygen, and substitutes his fingers. It's a rougher, faster sensation, and she relishes the difference, feeling the heat begin to pool low in her body and her hips start to grind down against his hand.
And he stops.
"Fucking shit," she spits, bucking her hips against empty air. "Goddammit, Liam, goddammit -"
And his hand is back, double-time against her clit, and her other hand slams back against the headboard as her body arcs with the sudden fire reintroduced to her veins.
And he stops.
"Fuck!"
He knows she's close, knows it won't take much to tip her over the edge now, and he's careful, using just enough pressure to make her tremble beneath him, then pulling away. She's a mess, dripping wet against his hand and splayed across the bed in whatever direction her muscles decide to go, eyes clenched shut tight.
"How're you doing, babe?"
"Fuck you, Liam."
He chuckles, pulling on her arms to reorient her a bit, and leans over her, kissing a line down her neck. She shivers at the press of his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, shifting her legs to make room for him between them. His cock brushes against her and her whole body quakes, just at that brief touch, and he can't stop the shiver that runs across his shoulders.
"What do you want?" he asks, low and dark against her shoulder.
"I want to come," and it's almost a whine, even as she presses a kiss to his ear, his jaw, his neck. "Please, please, I want - "
The sentence ends in a sharp gasp as he reaches down between them, rubbing the head of his cock against her to collect some of the moisture there, and drives himself into her. A low, satisfied-sounding moan in his ear, her nails pressing into his back, and the feel of her wet and hot and squeezing all around him almost undoes him on the spot.
But she doesn't want quick.
Marisha wraps her legs around his waist, pressing against the small of his back in an attempt to drive him deeper into her, but he leans back and readjusts her legs until her feet rest on his shoulders. The new angle hits something sharp and sweet inside of her, and she feels a shiver run down her spine and into her belly.
Liam rocks back and thrusts into her, making her eyes flutter closed as that sharp feeling washes over her again, and again as his hips rock, setting a slow, sweet rhythm that has little gasps and moans escaping her with every movement. Her body still demands release, and even the air against her skin seems like too much, but the sparks behind her eyes seem, at least for now, to sate the burn of her nerves.
And then, without pausing, Liam's hand reaches down between them and his thumb finds her clit. He starts rubbing against her, first in time with his thrusts, then faster, until Marisha's arching off the bed, hands twisting in the sheets, a long string of nonsense pouring out of her mouth, most of it comprised of four letters.
And he doesn't stop, not this time, and Marisha feels fire pour down her nerves to collect at a single point before her mouth drops open and her head falls back and she lets out a wordless cry of pure relief as the tension drains from her body with a series of pulsing waves.
Liam pauses, just for a moment, resting his head against her leg and collects himself. Marisha's body clamping down around him, the arc of her body and the look of bliss on her face, have all coalesced into an assault on his own desire and self-control. But he regains it, with some difficulty, and as she slumps back against the pillow he moves again, first with the thumb against her clit, and then rocking his hips back into her.
She's so, so sensitive now, and her whole body jerks with each movement against her, an exhausted, detatched sort of giggle bubbling up from her.
"God, Liam - " She interrupts herself with a gasp. "You're trying to kill me."
"Only a little," he grunts, and if she's in the mental state to get the joke she doesn't react, laying a hand over her eyes as she gives himself over to his ministrations.
She comes again, a moment later, with much less fanfare but a release none the less, clenching down around him and biting her lip hard.
And he doesn't stop. He has to switch hands, but he doesn't stop, driving himself into her over and over, watching her body twitch and arch and hearing the sounds she makes as she comes a third, a fourth time.
He feels like he reached his own limit long ago and has been holding on for the sheer sake of seeing her taken apart, sprawled out beneath him and reduced to little more than a bundle of oversensitive nerves. Finally, he drops his hand to the mattress beside her head, leaning over and bending her nearly in half in the process, and lets himself go, fucking roughly into her until the headboard thumps against the wall. She reaches up, grabbing it with both hands in an attempt to muffle it, and he buries his face between her arm and her neck.
Her body is tight around him and she drops one hand down to his back, tracing long lines against his skin, scratching her way back up, and it's the quiet sharpness that sends him over, his cry muffled by her skin as he goes still against her.
It's a long moment before he can move, rolling over to lay beside her and flopping an arm over his eyes. She joins him a moment later, pillowing her head against his chest and draping her arm over his torso.
"Every time," she mutters, exhaustion clear in her voice. "You do this every time."
"I have yet to hear a complaint," he responds.
"Yeah, well." And she seems to lose the sentence after that. Which is fine. He's pretty sure conversation is beyond both of them, at least for the next little while.