NSFW
Previously on Haverbrook [read the full episode here]
“You’ve been through a tough time, and I don’t want you to feel abandoned,” he said as he put his hand on mine. This time I didn’t pull away.
When John closed his apartment door behind us, I wrapped my arms around his neck and gently touched my lips to his. His lips parted, and mine matched. My hands moved to his chest and caressed the soft cotton of his shirt and the smooth mounds of muscle beneath. John bent his head downward to deepen his kiss, and my lips reacted to match his excitement.
John’s kiss was enthusiastic, and his hands were on my hips. My fingers lightly scratched his scalp as my excitement grew. John pulled his lips away to wrap his arm around my waist and walk me to his bedroom. He maneuvered me to the edge of his bed and removed my shoes. Then my tights. He opened the top three buttons on my new-ish dress and clumsily pulled it over my head.
I sat on the edge of his bed, shivered a bit at my near nakedness, while John unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it past his shoulders and arms. Next came the white tee shirt over his head and onto the floor. He wrestled out of his shoes without untying them. Belt and pants came off in a whirlwind. He sat down next to me and leaned in for a kiss as his hand caressed my cheek, then my neck. His lips followed with affectionate kisses.
I lay back on the bed and let him explore me with his lips. As he removed my bra and panties, my bare skin could feel the heat from his. Through the fabric of his shorts, John’s rigid flesh pressed into my thigh, like a thing prodding me to notice. I moaned as his lips delighted my nipples and his fingers teased the skin on my belly and thighs. Soon his fingers moved between my thighs to amuse themselves in pleasurable flesh.
My fingertips studied the fleshy, taut musculature of his back. Other fingers busied themselves by taking notice of the rigid flesh between John’s thighs. He moved from my nipples and aggressively toyed with my lips and tongue.
After enjoying John’s attention, I told him I was ready. He slipped off his shorts and slid his flesh into me. John paused for a moment and rested his forehead on mine while I wrapped my legs around his waist. John buried his face in my neck, and I could feel his quiet moans on my skin as he slowly entered and withdrew.
At the start, thoughts still spiraled in my head – about my apartment, my unintended teleport trip, lying in a tent on a cold night. Before too long, those thoughts left me. I begged him to increase the rhythm, but he wouldn’t. My hips rocked, and my legs shuttered. And then I didn’t need John to pick up the pace; my climax was unmistakable. Only then did he pick up the pace, which was soon followed by ragged breath and a slow, low moan.
In my post-coital daze, I returned to the conversation at the restaurant that led us here:
“You’ve been through a tough time, and I don’t want you to feel abandoned,” he said as he put his hand on mine.
I stared at John’s hand for maybe a bit too long, ”Amy, are you ok?” he asked.
“You’ve been so nice to me, and I feel safe with you. I do. But I can’t shake the question of why you’re helping me,“ I blurted out. I had asked myself that question for a week; it was time I asked John.
“That night at the grocery store, you looked lost walking through the crowd of people. I know you don’t like to admit it, to me and maybe yourself, but you needed help—more than just a toilet and a place to sleep. I don’t know what you need. You’ll have to tell me when you’re ready,” John explained while he squeezed my hand.
Part of me still didn’t accept his answer, but he was right. I marveled at his sensitivity to my emotional state. Either he was especially sensitive, or I must have looked like a mess.
John mentioning my first night in Haverbrook, reminded me of the odd feelings I had.
“Do you believe in fate?” I asked, way too thoughtfully.
“I believe we make our own fate.”