And now comes the part where I recycle my favorite prompt from other fandom kinkmemes, because it never stops being hot.
Harry loves eating pussy. It is his goddamn happy place. He could spend hours down there without getting tired. And obviously, he's good at it. Women have to drag his head away, they're so exhausted.
Harry/Murphy or Harry/Susan, please (or subconscious!Harry/Lash, if you think you could swing it)
Re: Dresden has a smart mouth, in more ways than one
It had been a long day.
My hair was sticking straight up and most of it was muddy. My duster was coated in mud from top to bottom, I was bleeding from a thin cut on my shoulder, there was water in my boots and some sort of kelp-ish plant in my pants rubbing against some sensitive areas in an extremely unpleasant way. And I couldn't feel the toes on my right foot at all, there were so numb from cold.
A long. Freaking. Day.
I took several deep breathes to calm myself and shoved my hip into the heavy steel door of my apartment. I was greeted by warmth and light spilling out of the apartment, and the smell of pizza.
And there was Kerrin Murphy laying longways on my couch, wearing shorts that showed off her toned legs and a thin white beater that showed off her rack. Her hair was loose around her face, and she was eating a piece of pizza from the box on the coffee table.
Damn. She looked good.
She looked up at me, wrinkled her cute little nose in hello because her mouth was full of pizza, and sat up to put a piece on a plate that she then offered to me, even though I was still standing, dripping and filthy, in the doorway.
I closed the door behind me and leaned my staff in the corner, and then shrugged out of my duster, which I considered hanging and then just threw on the floor.
I turned back to Murph. She'd finished chewing, set the plate down in front of the empty spot next to her where she clearly expected me to sit, and said. "Hey, Harry. You want a beer or a shower first?"
God damn, she was perfect.
I considered. "Beer." She cracked one open and handed it to me as I got closer. She looked me up and down as I downed half of the beer. "Long day?" she asked knowingly.
I swallowed and let out a refreshed, "ahhh" like you hear in Coke commercials. "Oh, yeah. Long day."
She looked me up and down again, hearing the squelch in my boots as I shifted my weight from side to side and pulled them off. "Did you go swimming in Lake Michigan?"
"Yep," I said. "I was practicing my butterfly stroke. Not as easy as Michael Phelps makes it look," I said, finally getting the boots off and then peeling off my soaking socks right there in the living room. We both made "ick" sounds at that.
Then she gave a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, babe."
"Oh, I'm not," I said.
She looked confused. I took her hand and pulled her up from the couch and towards the bedroom. "If you think I'm sleeping with you while you smell like the Swamp Thing," she said with dignity, "you are sorely mistaken, Mr. Wizard."
I glanced back at her with an righteously indignant eye raised as I kept pulling her forward, noting that she wasn't really fighting me. "I would never force such a thing upon you. We're going to take a shower together and then I'm going to do whatever I want to you."
She raised both her eyebrows in surprise. I wasn't usually so blunt. "Are you?" she asked as we arrived in the bathroom.
I dropped her hand and turned on the hot water. Then I turned back to her, pulled her into my arms and tight against my wet, muddy t-shirt, and kissed her so deeply and so long that when I pulled back, her eyes were glazed and her chest was heaving under the now-wet and see-through white beater, giving me a great view.
"You're damn right I am." I stepped back and pulled off my shirt. "I've had a very long day and I'm entitled to relax with the extremely sexy woman who usually sleeps in my bed."
She watched for a second as my hands moved to my belt buckle, and then she shrugged. She crossed her arms in front of her and pulled the beater over her head, doing very attractive things to her breasts.
God, yes.
She untied the drawstring of her lounge shorts and pushed them and her panties to the floor.
I started salivating as soon as I laid eyes on her. Almost drooling, to be honest, though I restrained myself because, really, that's so not sexy.
I'd ridded myself of my own pants and underwear by this point. I stuck a hand in the shower -- it was warm, because Murph had said that warm showers were about the only thing she wasn't willing to give up if she was going to be spending nights at my place and so Michael and I had installed a propane heater -- and then pulled us both in.
She helped me get the preliminaries done pretty quickly, scrubbing at my body with a bar of soap as I shampooed my hair. The way her firm little hands on my body aroused me was really just a perk.
Honest.
In less than ten minutes I was no longer so disgusting that even I wouldn't have sex with me and I had Murph pressed up against the wall of shower and was kissing her, my hands groping and hers in my hair and her tongue in my mouth.
Jeezus, she was sexy. I pulled and looked down at her, taking in the shape of her. She smiled coquettishly, a rare but good look on her. "Killer body, Murph," I said. "Dy-no-mite."
And then I dropped to my knees and did what I'd been wanting to do since I walked into my apartment to the sight of her sprawled on my couch.
I didn't beat around the bush -- the crude pun maybe only half-intended -- I just put my mouth right on her and started eating her out. Fuck, she tasted good. She let out a surprised yelp as I buried my face in her, tongue deep and moving and oh, lord, the smell of her, the taste.
It was about then that my mind got pretty fuzzy.
She sunk her fingers into my hair, scratching gently at my scalp. That was nice.
I ran my tongue completely over her, from ass to clit, in one long sweep. She let out a pretty groaning sound, so I did it again. I lifted on of her legs up and rested her thigh on my shoulder. And then I really settled in and got to work.
Fuck, yeah. This was the stuff. Just me and sweet smell and tangy taste of Karrin, warm and wet from the water and from what my tongue was doing to her, and it was safe here, and warm, and she was so, so perfect, and she made all those pretty sounds, and she was so soft and responsive under my tongue.
Fuck. Yeah.
I took my time -- I had no place to be and neither did she, except right here in the shower with her shuddering and moaning against me. I brought her close, feeling her quiver, the strain of her abdomen and the thigh that struggled to hold her upright. I tightened my grip on that great ass to help keep her standing and where I wanted her. She was about to come -- I could tell from the curses on her tongue and the shaking of her body, and I pulled back, wanting her first one to be a doozy because she was doing this for me -- letting me take what I wanted, though I wasn't sure if she really knew what that meant yet.
We hadn't been together long. Only a few weeks, and I'd let her dictate many of our extracurricular activities, certainly not unhappy with anything she wanted and still trying to figure her out. And she knew I liked to lick her, taste her -- I'd made that clear. But I didn't think she knew how much I liked it. I'd always liked to make my women feel good, but there was something more than that with Karrin.
Two more times I told her no just as she was on the edge, my tongue working leisurely, exploring every inch of her, playing with the soft folds and the hard nub of her clit and drinking in the taste of her. Finally, she was begging, please, Harry, please let me, I need to, please, please, please, Harry. And then I twisted my tongue and put a little more pressure and --
Oh, yeah. She came. Hard. Moaning, muscles clenching, the thigh on my shoulder almost wrapping all the way around my head, her fingers biting down into my skull, going up onto her toes on the one leg that was holding her up, and she said my name, over and over and over and over.
She sagged against the wall, the leg she was standing on almost buckling, and I decided that it was time to get out of the shower, because the water was getting cold, and my knees were getting sore, and, most importantly, she probably couldn't take another one standing up.
I eased her leg off my shoulder and stood, ignoring the protests of my knees. I gathered her into my arms and she set her cheek against my chest. "Hot damn, Dresden," she said.
I did not grin smugly. Really. It was not a smug grin. Wizards are not smug.
"Love you, Karrin," I said, nuzzling at the top her head because her neck was too far away.
"Love you, too," she murmured.
I shut off the water with one hand and then helped Karrin out of the shower. Her legs always got all mushy right after an orgasm and she needed a hand, though she was loathe to admit it. I helped when necessary and hid behind the mask of I-don't-want-to-stop-touching-you.
We toweled off and, since I wasn't anywhere near done, I took her hand again and led her to the bedroom.
She seemed surprised when I went back down on her after laying her back on the bed. I think she'd expected that we'd get to what most people considered the main event, but I thought of more as the after-party.
I ignored her surprise and just started licking and tasting as exploring and dipping my tongue as deep into her as it would go. This time, I pulled both thighs over my shoulders and settled both hands on her hips, holding her down.
And now that'd she'd had one really good one, I just let my mind go blank.
I don't know how long we stayed like that, her gripping the sheets or my hair or the headboard with white knuckles, me tasting and smelling and just generally blissed out and pretty much in heaven with the taste and softness and the cries she made as she came over and over and over again.
I stopped counting her orgasms after four. And the more she came, the more sensitive she got, and the easier it was for her to come again, and the better she smelled and tasted, and the more I completely lost track of everything.
I know it was a long time.
Somewhere around orgasms six or eight-ish, she started saying something in a different tone and moving against me in a different way, but honestly, by then I was just too far gone to notice the hint of distress creeping into her voice. All I knew is how good she tasted and how right it was to have her beneath me like this.
A few orgasms later, my neck was started to cramp, so I pulled a tricky move and rolled us, settling on my back and pulling her on top of my mouth. I could feel her on her hands and knees above me, her body undulating, the sounds she made getting more insistent.
She started to try to pull away, and now she was almost sobbing, but I couldn't hear her over the roaring my ears, and I just gripped her ass tighter and pulled her down against my mouth. I gave her one more, one more and her elbows collapsed completely, the muscles of her thighs and abdomen quivering uncontrollably, gasping, almost unable to breathe.
When I started in again, she gave a distressed cry and wrenched herself away from me, pulling out of my grip and rolling to lie on her back, chest heaving, gasping for breath. I started to follow her, my eyes on the swollen, wet, quivering pink center of her, and go back down, but she stopped me, gripping my hair painfully tight and roughly pulling my gaze up to meet hers.
"Harry," she said on a sob, and I noticed she was crying; real, actual tears on her face. "Harry, no. I can't do another one. I can't. It's starting to hurt."
I think it was the tears that snapped me out of it. Murphy didn't cry.
"Aw, hell," I murmured, and I crawled up her body -- which wasn't far, for me -- and pulled her into my arms. "Sorry, Murph. I'm sorry."
She buried her face into my neck. For a little bit, she was just trying to pull herself back together, and I just ran my hands over her back soothingly.
Finally, she pulled away. Her face was still wet, but fresh tears had stopped coming. I wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumb. She was so small, my hand dwarfing her beautiful face. "Sorry," I said again. "I didn't want to make you cry. I just wanted…" and I trailed off, because I didn't have the words for all the things I'd wanted.
She stroked my stubble. "It's okay," she said. "I just couldn't again. I wanted to give you whatever you wanted, but I couldn't. It didn't -- You didn't -- That was-"
"You're okay?" I asked, cutting off her rambling.
She nodded.
"And you liked it?"
She nodded again.
"And you stopped me when you stopped liking it?"
She gave a shaky smile. "Oh, Harry, I was still liking it. My body had just decided that was enough."
I grinned at her. "Okay then. Then I consider this a successful evening."
She frowned and then looked down at my body. Her gaze flicked back up to my eyes. "But you didn't come."
I looked down in surprise, suddenly aware of the pain in my dick, which was straining for attention.
"Oh," I said. "Um."
She smiled at me and rolled over on top of me, straddling my hips, my dick nestling between her legs, feeling her still-swollen flesh. I groaned helplessly. Then I furrowed my brow. "I thought you said you couldn't-"
"I can't," she cut me off. "But I think it's only fair that I give you one after you gave me -- uh. Er. So many," she said.
She reached in between us and took me in her hand. She rubbed me, pulled at me, squeezed, ran the neglected skin of my dick very, very gently against her folds. And with a gutteral groan, I came all over her folds and her stomach and mine.
She chuckled throatily at how quick it had been. "Shut up," I said as I reached out a blind hand for a washcloth I kept in the bedside table. I cleaned up quickly and threw the cloth toward the hamper. Maybe it made it. Maybe not.
She kissed the side of my neck and settled down comfortably on top of me.
A few moments ticked by as my breathing calmed. Finally, just as we were both about to fall asleep, she said, "I forgot. You never had dinner. Want the pizza?"
I grinned, already dozing. "No, thanks, Murph. I’m full."
Good day.
Ignore that first one - misformatted. For realsies fill.
My hair was sticking straight up and most of it was muddy. My duster was coated in mud from top to bottom, I was bleeding from a thin cut on my shoulder, there was water in my boots and some sort of kelp-ish plant in my pants rubbing against some sensitive areas in an extremely unpleasant way. And I couldn't feel the toes on my right foot at all, there were so numb from cold.
A long. Freaking. Day.
I took several deep breathes to calm myself and shoved my hip into the heavy steel door of my apartment. I was greeted by warmth and light spilling out of the apartment, and the smell of pizza.
And there was Kerrin Murphy laying longways on my couch, wearing shorts that showed off her toned legs and a thin white beater that showed off her rack. Her hair was loose around her face, and she was eating a piece of pizza from the box on the coffee table.
Damn. She looked good.
She looked up at me, wrinkled her cute little nose in hello because her mouth was full of pizza, and sat up to put a piece on a plate that she then offered to me, even though I was still standing, dripping and filthy, in the doorway.
I closed the door behind me and leaned my staff in the corner, and then shrugged out of my duster, which I considered hanging and then just threw on the floor.
I turned back to Murph. She'd finished chewing, set the plate down in front of the empty spot next to her where she clearly expected me to sit, and said. "Hey, Harry. You want a beer or a shower first?"
God damn, she was perfect.
I considered. "Beer." She cracked one open and handed it to me as I got closer. She looked me up and down as I downed half of the beer. "Long day?" she asked knowingly.
I swallowed and let out a refreshed, "ahhh" like you hear in Coke commercials. "Oh, yeah. Long day."
She looked me up and down again, hearing the squelch in my boots as I shifted my weight from side to side and pulled them off. "Did you go swimming in Lake Michigan?"
"Yep," I said. "I was practicing my butterfly stroke. Not as easy as Michael Phelps makes it look," I said, finally getting the boots off and then peeling off my soaking socks right there in the living room. We both made "ick" sounds at that.
Then she gave a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, babe."
"Oh, I'm not," I said.
She looked confused. I took her hand and pulled her up from the couch and towards the bedroom. "If you think I'm sleeping with you while you smell like the Swamp Thing," she said with dignity, "you are sorely mistaken, Mr. Wizard."
I glanced back at her with an righteously indignant eye raised as I kept pulling her forward, noting that she wasn't really fighting me. "I would never force such a thing upon you, Sergeant. We're going to take a shower together and then I'm going to do whatever I want to you."
She raised both her eyebrows in surprise. I wasn't usually so blunt. "Are you?" she asked as we arrived in the bathroom.
I dropped her hand and turned on the hot water. Then I turned back to her, pulled her into my arms and tight against my wet, muddy t-shirt, and kissed her so deeply and so long that when I pulled back, her eyes were glazed and her chest was heaving under the now-wet and see-through white beater, giving me a great view.
"You're damn right I am." I stepped back and pulled off my shirt. "I've had a very long day and I'm entitled to relax with the extremely sexy woman who usually sleeps in my bed."
She watched for a second as my hands moved to my belt buckle, and then she shrugged. She crossed her arms in front of her and pulled the beater over her head, doing very attractive things to her breasts.
God, yes.
She untied the drawstring of her lounge shorts and pushed them and her panties to the floor.
I started salivating as soon as I laid eyes on her. Almost drooling, to be honest, though I restrained myself because, really, that's so not sexy.
I'd ridded myself of my own pants and underwear by this point. I stuck a hand in the shower -- it was warm, because Murph had said that warm showers were about the only thing she wasn't willing to give up if she was going to be spending nights at my place and so Michael and I had installed a propane heater -- and then pulled us both in.
She helped me get the preliminaries done pretty quickly, scrubbing at my body with a bar of soap as I shampooed my hair. The way her firm little hands on my body aroused me was really just a perk.
Honest.
In less than ten minutes I was no longer so disgusting that even I wouldn't have sex with me and I had Murph pressed up against the wall of shower and was kissing her, my hands groping and hers in my hair and her tongue in my mouth.
Jeezus, she was sexy. I pulled and looked down at her, taking in the shape of her. She smiled coquettishly, a rare but good look on her. "Killer body, Murph," I said. "Dy-no-mite."
And then I dropped to my knees and did what I'd been wanting to do since I walked into my apartment to the sight of her sprawled on my couch.
I didn't beat around the bush -- the crude pun maybe only half-intended -- I just put my mouth right on her and started eating her out. Fuck, she tasted good. She let out a surprised yelp as I buried my face in her, tongue deep and moving and oh, lord, the smell of her, the taste.
It was about then that my mind got pretty fuzzy.
She sunk her fingers into my hair, scratching gently at my scalp. That was nice.
I ran my tongue completely over her, from ass to clit, in one long sweep. She let out a pretty groaning sound, so I did it again. I lifted on of her legs up and rested her thigh on my shoulder. And then I really settled in and got to work.
Fuck, yeah. This was the stuff. Just me and sweet smell and tangy taste of Karrin, warm and wet from the water and from what my tongue was doing to her, and it was safe here, and warm, and she was so, so perfect, and she made all those pretty sounds, and she was so soft and responsive under my tongue.
Fuck. Yeah.
I took my time -- I had no place to be and neither did she, except right here in the shower with her shuddering and moaning against me. I brought her close, feeling her quiver, the strain of her abdomen and the thigh that struggled to hold her upright. I tightened my grip on that great ass to help keep her standing and where I wanted her. She was about to come -- I could tell from the curses on her tongue and the shaking of her body, and I pulled back, wanting her first one to be a doozy because she was doing this for me -- letting me take what I wanted, though I wasn't sure if she really knew what that meant yet.
We hadn't been together long. Only a few weeks, and I'd let her dictate many of our extracurricular activities, certainly not unhappy with anything she wanted and still trying to figure her out. And she knew I liked to lick her, taste her -- I'd made that clear. But I didn't think she knew how much I liked it. I'd always liked to make my women feel good, but there was something more than that with Karrin.
Two more times I told her no just as she was on the edge, my tongue working leisurely, exploring every inch of her, playing with the soft folds and the hard nub of her clit and drinking in the taste of her. Finally, she was begging, please, Harry, please let me, I need to, please, please, please, Harry. And then I twisted my tongue and put a little more pressure and --
Oh, yeah. She came. Hard. Moaning, muscles clenching, the thigh on my shoulder almost wrapping all the way around my head, her fingers biting down into my skull, going up onto her toes on the one leg that was holding her up, and she said my name, over and over and over and over.
She sagged against the wall, the leg she was standing on almost buckling, and I decided that it was time to get out of the shower, because the water was getting cold, and my knees were getting sore, and, most importantly, she probably couldn't take another one standing up.
I eased her leg off my shoulder and stood, ignoring the protests of my knees. I gathered her into my arms and she set her cheek against my chest. "Hot damn, Dresden," she said.
I did not grin smugly. Really. It was not a smug grin. Wizards are not smug.
"Love you, Karrin," I said, nuzzling at the top her head because her neck was too far away.
"Love you, too," she murmured.
I shut off the water with one hand and then helped Karrin out of the shower. Her legs always got all mushy right after an orgasm and she needed a hand, though she was loathe to admit it. I helped when necessary and hid behind the mask of I-don't-want-to-stop-touching-you.
We toweled off and, since I wasn't anywhere near done, I took her hand again and led her to the bedroom.
She seemed surprised when I went back down on her after laying her back on the bed. I think she'd expected that we'd get to what most people considered the main event, but I thought of more as the after-party.
I ignored her surprise and just started licking and tasting as exploring and dipping my tongue as deep into her as it would go. This time, I pulled both thighs over my shoulders and settled both hands on her hips, holding her down.
And now that'd she'd had one really good one, I just let my mind go blank.
I don't know how long we stayed like that, her gripping the sheets or my hair or the headboard with white knuckles, me tasting and smelling and just generally blissed out and pretty much in heaven with the taste and softness and the cries she made as she came over and over and over again.
I stopped counting her orgasms after four. And the more she came, the more sensitive she got, and the easier it was for her to come again, and the better she smelled and tasted, and the more I completely lost track of everything.
I know it was a long time.
Somewhere around orgasms six or eight-ish, she started saying something in a different tone and moving against me in a different way, but honestly, by then I was just too far gone to notice the hint of distress creeping into her voice. All I knew is how good she tasted and how right it was to have her beneath me like this.
A few orgasms later, my neck was started to cramp, so I pulled a tricky move and rolled us, settling on my back and pulling her on top of my mouth. I could feel her on her hands and knees above me, her body undulating, the sounds she made getting more insistent.
She started to try to pull away, and now she was almost sobbing, but I couldn't hear her over the roaring my ears, and I just gripped her ass tighter and pulled her down against my mouth. I gave her one more, one more and her elbows collapsed completely, the muscles of her thighs and abdomen quivering uncontrollably, gasping, almost unable to breathe.
When I started in again, she gave a distressed cry and wrenched herself away from me, pulling out of my grip and rolling to lie on her back, chest heaving, gasping for breath. I started to follow her, my eyes on the swollen, wet, quivering pink center of her, and go back down, but she stopped me, gripping my hair painfully tight and roughly pulling my gaze up to meet hers.
"Harry," she said on a sob, and I noticed she was crying; real, actual tears on her face. "Harry, no. I can't do another one. I can't. It's starting to hurt."
I think it was the tears that snapped me out of it. Murphy didn't cry.
"Aw, hell," I murmured, and I crawled up her body -- which wasn't far, for me -- and pulled her into my arms. "Sorry, Murph. I'm sorry."
She buried her face into my neck. For a little bit, she was just trying to pull herself back together, and I just ran my hands over her back soothingly.
Finally, she pulled away. Her face was still wet, but fresh tears had stopped coming. I wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumb. She was so small, my hand dwarfing her beautiful face. "Sorry," I said again. "I didn't want to make you cry. I just wanted…" and I trailed off, because I didn't have the words for all the things I'd wanted.
She stroked my stubble. "It's okay," she said. "I just couldn't again. I wanted to give you whatever you wanted, but I couldn't. It didn't -- You didn't -- That was-"
"You're okay?" I asked, cutting off her rambling.
She nodded.
"And you liked it?"
She nodded again.
"And you stopped me when you stopped liking it?"
She gave a shaky smile. "Oh, Harry, I was still liking it. My body had just decided that was enough."
I grinned at her. "Okay then. Then I consider this a successful evening."
She frowned and then looked down at my body. Her gaze flicked back up to my eyes. "But you didn't come."
I looked down in surprise, suddenly aware of the pain in my dick, which was straining for attention.
"Oh," I said. "Um."
She smiled at me and rolled over on top of me, straddling my hips, my dick nestling between her legs, feeling her still-swollen flesh. I groaned helplessly. Then I furrowed my brow. "I thought you said you couldn't-"
"I can't," she cut me off. "But I think it's only fair that I give you one after you gave me -- uh. Er. So many," she said.
She reached in between us and took me in her hand. She rubbed me, pulled at me, squeezed, ran the neglected skin of my dick very, very gently against her folds. And with a gutteral groan, I came all over her folds and her stomach and mine.
She chuckled throatily at how quick it had been. "Shut up," I said as I reached out a blind hand for a washcloth I kept in the bedside table. I cleaned up quickly and threw the cloth toward the hamper. Maybe it made it. Maybe not.
She kissed the side of my neck and settled down comfortably on top of me.
A few moments ticked by as my breathing calmed. Finally, just as we were both about to fall asleep, she said, "I forgot. You never had dinner. Want the pizza?"
I grinned, already dozing. "No, thanks, Murph. I’m full."
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Dresden has a smart mouth, in more ways than one
(Anonymous) 2011-02-28 04:06 am (UTC)(link)Harry loves eating pussy. It is his goddamn happy place. He could spend hours down there without getting tired. And obviously, he's good at it. Women have to drag his head away, they're so exhausted.
Harry/Murphy or Harry/Susan, please (or subconscious!Harry/Lash, if you think you could swing it)
Re: Dresden has a smart mouth, in more ways than one
(Anonymous) 2012-01-22 05:42 am (UTC)(link)Ignore that first one - misformatted. For realsies fill.
(Anonymous) 2012-01-22 05:45 am (UTC)(link)My hair was sticking straight up and most of it was muddy. My duster was coated in mud from top to bottom, I was bleeding from a thin cut on my shoulder, there was water in my boots and some sort of kelp-ish plant in my pants rubbing against some sensitive areas in an extremely unpleasant way. And I couldn't feel the toes on my right foot at all, there were so numb from cold.
A long. Freaking. Day.
I took several deep breathes to calm myself and shoved my hip into the heavy steel door of my apartment. I was greeted by warmth and light spilling out of the apartment, and the smell of pizza.
And there was Kerrin Murphy laying longways on my couch, wearing shorts that showed off her toned legs and a thin white beater that showed off her rack. Her hair was loose around her face, and she was eating a piece of pizza from the box on the coffee table.
Damn. She looked good.
She looked up at me, wrinkled her cute little nose in hello because her mouth was full of pizza, and sat up to put a piece on a plate that she then offered to me, even though I was still standing, dripping and filthy, in the doorway.
I closed the door behind me and leaned my staff in the corner, and then shrugged out of my duster, which I considered hanging and then just threw on the floor.
I turned back to Murph. She'd finished chewing, set the plate down in front of the empty spot next to her where she clearly expected me to sit, and said. "Hey, Harry. You want a beer or a shower first?"
God damn, she was perfect.
I considered. "Beer." She cracked one open and handed it to me as I got closer. She looked me up and down as I downed half of the beer. "Long day?" she asked knowingly.
I swallowed and let out a refreshed, "ahhh" like you hear in Coke commercials. "Oh, yeah. Long day."
She looked me up and down again, hearing the squelch in my boots as I shifted my weight from side to side and pulled them off. "Did you go swimming in Lake Michigan?"
"Yep," I said. "I was practicing my butterfly stroke. Not as easy as Michael Phelps makes it look," I said, finally getting the boots off and then peeling off my soaking socks right there in the living room. We both made "ick" sounds at that.
Then she gave a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, babe."
"Oh, I'm not," I said.
She looked confused. I took her hand and pulled her up from the couch and towards the bedroom. "If you think I'm sleeping with you while you smell like the Swamp Thing," she said with dignity, "you are sorely mistaken, Mr. Wizard."
I glanced back at her with an righteously indignant eye raised as I kept pulling her forward, noting that she wasn't really fighting me. "I would never force such a thing upon you, Sergeant. We're going to take a shower together and then I'm going to do whatever I want to you."
She raised both her eyebrows in surprise. I wasn't usually so blunt. "Are you?" she asked as we arrived in the bathroom.
I dropped her hand and turned on the hot water. Then I turned back to her, pulled her into my arms and tight against my wet, muddy t-shirt, and kissed her so deeply and so long that when I pulled back, her eyes were glazed and her chest was heaving under the now-wet and see-through white beater, giving me a great view.
"You're damn right I am." I stepped back and pulled off my shirt. "I've had a very long day and I'm entitled to relax with the extremely sexy woman who usually sleeps in my bed."
She watched for a second as my hands moved to my belt buckle, and then she shrugged. She crossed her arms in front of her and pulled the beater over her head, doing very attractive things to her breasts.
God, yes.
She untied the drawstring of her lounge shorts and pushed them and her panties to the floor.
I started salivating as soon as I laid eyes on her. Almost drooling, to be honest, though I restrained myself because, really, that's so not sexy.
I'd ridded myself of my own pants and underwear by this point. I stuck a hand in the shower -- it was warm, because Murph had said that warm showers were about the only thing she wasn't willing to give up if she was going to be spending nights at my place and so Michael and I had installed a propane heater -- and then pulled us both in.
She helped me get the preliminaries done pretty quickly, scrubbing at my body with a bar of soap as I shampooed my hair. The way her firm little hands on my body aroused me was really just a perk.
Honest.
In less than ten minutes I was no longer so disgusting that even I wouldn't have sex with me and I had Murph pressed up against the wall of shower and was kissing her, my hands groping and hers in my hair and her tongue in my mouth.
Jeezus, she was sexy. I pulled and looked down at her, taking in the shape of her. She smiled coquettishly, a rare but good look on her. "Killer body, Murph," I said. "Dy-no-mite."
And then I dropped to my knees and did what I'd been wanting to do since I walked into my apartment to the sight of her sprawled on my couch.
I didn't beat around the bush -- the crude pun maybe only half-intended -- I just put my mouth right on her and started eating her out. Fuck, she tasted good. She let out a surprised yelp as I buried my face in her, tongue deep and moving and oh, lord, the smell of her, the taste.
It was about then that my mind got pretty fuzzy.
She sunk her fingers into my hair, scratching gently at my scalp. That was nice.
I ran my tongue completely over her, from ass to clit, in one long sweep. She let out a pretty groaning sound, so I did it again. I lifted on of her legs up and rested her thigh on my shoulder. And then I really settled in and got to work.
Fuck, yeah. This was the stuff. Just me and sweet smell and tangy taste of Karrin, warm and wet from the water and from what my tongue was doing to her, and it was safe here, and warm, and she was so, so perfect, and she made all those pretty sounds, and she was so soft and responsive under my tongue.
Fuck. Yeah.
I took my time -- I had no place to be and neither did she, except right here in the shower with her shuddering and moaning against me. I brought her close, feeling her quiver, the strain of her abdomen and the thigh that struggled to hold her upright. I tightened my grip on that great ass to help keep her standing and where I wanted her. She was about to come -- I could tell from the curses on her tongue and the shaking of her body, and I pulled back, wanting her first one to be a doozy because she was doing this for me -- letting me take what I wanted, though I wasn't sure if she really knew what that meant yet.
We hadn't been together long. Only a few weeks, and I'd let her dictate many of our extracurricular activities, certainly not unhappy with anything she wanted and still trying to figure her out. And she knew I liked to lick her, taste her -- I'd made that clear. But I didn't think she knew how much I liked it. I'd always liked to make my women feel good, but there was something more than that with Karrin.
Two more times I told her no just as she was on the edge, my tongue working leisurely, exploring every inch of her, playing with the soft folds and the hard nub of her clit and drinking in the taste of her. Finally, she was begging, please, Harry, please let me, I need to, please, please, please, Harry. And then I twisted my tongue and put a little more pressure and --
Oh, yeah. She came. Hard. Moaning, muscles clenching, the thigh on my shoulder almost wrapping all the way around my head, her fingers biting down into my skull, going up onto her toes on the one leg that was holding her up, and she said my name, over and over and over and over.
She sagged against the wall, the leg she was standing on almost buckling, and I decided that it was time to get out of the shower, because the water was getting cold, and my knees were getting sore, and, most importantly, she probably couldn't take another one standing up.
I eased her leg off my shoulder and stood, ignoring the protests of my knees. I gathered her into my arms and she set her cheek against my chest. "Hot damn, Dresden," she said.
I did not grin smugly. Really. It was not a smug grin. Wizards are not smug.
"Love you, Karrin," I said, nuzzling at the top her head because her neck was too far away.
"Love you, too," she murmured.
I shut off the water with one hand and then helped Karrin out of the shower. Her legs always got all mushy right after an orgasm and she needed a hand, though she was loathe to admit it. I helped when necessary and hid behind the mask of I-don't-want-to-stop-touching-you.
We toweled off and, since I wasn't anywhere near done, I took her hand again and led her to the bedroom.
She seemed surprised when I went back down on her after laying her back on the bed. I think she'd expected that we'd get to what most people considered the main event, but I thought of more as the after-party.
I ignored her surprise and just started licking and tasting as exploring and dipping my tongue as deep into her as it would go. This time, I pulled both thighs over my shoulders and settled both hands on her hips, holding her down.
And now that'd she'd had one really good one, I just let my mind go blank.
I don't know how long we stayed like that, her gripping the sheets or my hair or the headboard with white knuckles, me tasting and smelling and just generally blissed out and pretty much in heaven with the taste and softness and the cries she made as she came over and over and over again.
I stopped counting her orgasms after four. And the more she came, the more sensitive she got, and the easier it was for her to come again, and the better she smelled and tasted, and the more I completely lost track of everything.
I know it was a long time.
Somewhere around orgasms six or eight-ish, she started saying something in a different tone and moving against me in a different way, but honestly, by then I was just too far gone to notice the hint of distress creeping into her voice. All I knew is how good she tasted and how right it was to have her beneath me like this.
A few orgasms later, my neck was started to cramp, so I pulled a tricky move and rolled us, settling on my back and pulling her on top of my mouth. I could feel her on her hands and knees above me, her body undulating, the sounds she made getting more insistent.
She started to try to pull away, and now she was almost sobbing, but I couldn't hear her over the roaring my ears, and I just gripped her ass tighter and pulled her down against my mouth. I gave her one more, one more and her elbows collapsed completely, the muscles of her thighs and abdomen quivering uncontrollably, gasping, almost unable to breathe.
When I started in again, she gave a distressed cry and wrenched herself away from me, pulling out of my grip and rolling to lie on her back, chest heaving, gasping for breath. I started to follow her, my eyes on the swollen, wet, quivering pink center of her, and go back down, but she stopped me, gripping my hair painfully tight and roughly pulling my gaze up to meet hers.
"Harry," she said on a sob, and I noticed she was crying; real, actual tears on her face. "Harry, no. I can't do another one. I can't. It's starting to hurt."
I think it was the tears that snapped me out of it. Murphy didn't cry.
"Aw, hell," I murmured, and I crawled up her body -- which wasn't far, for me -- and pulled her into my arms. "Sorry, Murph. I'm sorry."
She buried her face into my neck. For a little bit, she was just trying to pull herself back together, and I just ran my hands over her back soothingly.
Finally, she pulled away. Her face was still wet, but fresh tears had stopped coming. I wiped the tears from her cheeks with my thumb. She was so small, my hand dwarfing her beautiful face. "Sorry," I said again. "I didn't want to make you cry. I just wanted…" and I trailed off, because I didn't have the words for all the things I'd wanted.
She stroked my stubble. "It's okay," she said. "I just couldn't again. I wanted to give you whatever you wanted, but I couldn't. It didn't -- You didn't -- That was-"
"You're okay?" I asked, cutting off her rambling.
She nodded.
"And you liked it?"
She nodded again.
"And you stopped me when you stopped liking it?"
She gave a shaky smile. "Oh, Harry, I was still liking it. My body had just decided that was enough."
I grinned at her. "Okay then. Then I consider this a successful evening."
She frowned and then looked down at my body. Her gaze flicked back up to my eyes. "But you didn't come."
I looked down in surprise, suddenly aware of the pain in my dick, which was straining for attention.
"Oh," I said. "Um."
She smiled at me and rolled over on top of me, straddling my hips, my dick nestling between her legs, feeling her still-swollen flesh. I groaned helplessly. Then I furrowed my brow. "I thought you said you couldn't-"
"I can't," she cut me off. "But I think it's only fair that I give you one after you gave me -- uh. Er. So many," she said.
She reached in between us and took me in her hand. She rubbed me, pulled at me, squeezed, ran the neglected skin of my dick very, very gently against her folds. And with a gutteral groan, I came all over her folds and her stomach and mine.
She chuckled throatily at how quick it had been. "Shut up," I said as I reached out a blind hand for a washcloth I kept in the bedside table. I cleaned up quickly and threw the cloth toward the hamper. Maybe it made it. Maybe not.
She kissed the side of my neck and settled down comfortably on top of me.
A few moments ticked by as my breathing calmed. Finally, just as we were both about to fall asleep, she said, "I forgot. You never had dinner. Want the pizza?"
I grinned, already dozing. "No, thanks, Murph. I’m full."
Good day.