26. In Xanadu

IN XANADU

MADDY

Paul had well and truly put us in our place. I might have been offended, but it is so good to see him settling in and feeling secure. I get the giggles as soon as we close the door, and I am still bubbling with mirth as Andrew gently pulls me across the hall and through our door, closing it behind us.

I've lost a little of the hormonal haze that had fallen over me during the song. Andrew must sense my change of mood because he says quietly, "I can sleep on the couch if you prefer."

"Is that what you want to do?" I ask.

"No," he says, "Not in the least. I want to begin at the top of your head and kiss you down to your toes and all in between. I want to make you moan and scream with desire. But most of all, I want to sleep in the same bed with you because that is what you want; not because my daft old grandfather decided we should."

"Good," I say. "Because that is what I want, too. Except for the screaming part. We'll need to be quiet."

Andrew wraps those long arms of his around me and whispers in my ear, "I can be very, very quiet. Can you?"

His breath on my ear rekindles the flame inside me, like blowing on live coals. "Then let's be glad that your grandfather at least got one chore out of the way for us, and get to the fun part," I say.

Andrew gives me that wicked, lopsided Lane grin, begins unbuttoning my shirt, and says, "As you wish."

"Are you my dread pirate?" I ask, making reference to the Princess Bride .

"I am," he says, with mock ferocity. "Be still while I ravish you, wench, lest I keel haul ye."

The effect of the threat was somewhat spoiled because he made it in a harsh whisper, then nibbled on my ear in a way that sent lighting shooting from my head to my toes. I started giggling again, as much from nerves as from his funny pirate talk.

As he undid my last shirt button, he peeled my blouse down over my shoulders, trapping my arms.

"Arrrgh," he mockingly growls. "D'ye think that's funny? Yer a disrespectful wench, you are!" With that, he scoops me up, still trapped in my blouse, and gently tosses me onto the bed.

I bounce a little, but the springs don't squeak, showing that someone had paid attention to the small details of security — as in not sharing personal activities with the neighbors.

"M'lord," I squeaked, getting into my role, "Methinks thou art a trifle overdressed for the occasion."

"Oh ho," he returned, in the same playful way, "Uppity, too, I see. Were you the kind of naughty child to unwrap your gifts on the sly? Be a good wench and lie still while I unwrap my present, then you can have your turn."

With that, he deftly undid my jeans and slid them off me, leaving me clad only in bra and panties.

"Oh, and a sweet little package you are, too," he adds, pausing in his labors to admire me. I shiver with anticipation. "Cold are ye? I'll warm you up . . ."

I swallow hard. With my arms trapped, I feel . . . not afraid exactly, but powerless. My shivers increase in strength, and something must have shown on my face.

Andrew stops. He doesn't let go of my blouse, but he doesn't continue, either.

"Maddy," he says, "I'm not a dread pirate. Do you want to fuck? Because I won't force you."

"I want to make love with you, my Wesley," I say. "I suspect that fucking might be involved."

He just looked at me for a moment. I can see he is trying to keep a straight face. Then he chuckles, "Oh, Maddy, you are a puzzle wrapped in an enigma. But I think I love you."

"Am I your wild thing?" I ask. I don't strain against my blouse. It is one of my favorites and I don't want to tear it, but every part of me wants to throw caution to the winds, wrap my arms around his neck; no, I want to wrap myself around him, and become one with him.

"Yes," he says, "and I have no desire to tame you." He slides my blouse off my shoulders.

"What do you want?" I ask.

Andrew is gently sliding my panties down my hips. "I want to unwrap you slowly, like the best birthday or holiday gift. I want to cherish and savor every part of you."

He runs his hands down my sides. I reach up to put my arms around his neck, but he catches my hands. "Slowly," he says. "Slowly, slowly. We have time now."

He slides one hand behind me, undoing my bra, letting it fall free. "You are so beautiful," he says. "I could worship at your shrine forever, Blodeuwedd, Buttercup, Helena, Guinevere . . ."

I pull myself up, and gently kiss him on the mouth. "Shhh," I say. "All those ladies put their lords through unspeakable trials. I just want to be me, making love to you. Right now, tonight, we don't have to be anyone except Andrew and Maddy."

I don't mention that at least two of them practiced infidelity, and that the best of them was a bossy little thing scarcely worthy of her knight.

"Then that's who we will be," he says.

Then he begins planting nibble kisses down my front, stopping just short of the part of me that aches for him. "I dreamed of you, drew pictures, and . . . and thought of you in the late evenings after shifts."

"Am I like your dreams?" I ask.

"No," he says, "you are much, much better."

He releases my hands, and slides his palms down my sides. I lift my hips, offering myself to him.

Andrew stops then, arms braced on either side of me, one knee on the edge of the bed, and just looks. The silence stretches out, and he just looks.

Finally, I say, "Like what you see?"

"Yes!" he says emphatically. He then continues with the nibble kisses, traveling down the slight swell of my stomach, ending just above the aching core of me. He blows out a warm breath over the curls protecting the heat at my center and then brings gentle fingers up to touch me. I gasp and arch into his touch desperately, pleasure zinging and tingling through my nerve endings from just this one simple brush of his hand.

He kneels at the edge of the bed, and drags me to him, my legs on either side of his head. Gravely, he smooths back the hair, and then he tastes me.

I only thought I was alive before! Every nerve in my body is awake with anticipation. I try to arch my hips to him, and I let my legs spread wide. I hear myself making little whimpering sounds, my breath caught in my throat as pleasure has its way with me.

"I doubt that other people are as lucky as we are," I whisper between gasps. "No one warned me that sex would be like this."

"Did you need a warning?" he asks with a laugh before going back to work.

I giggle. "Yes! I feel like I'm going to die every time, but in the most amazing way. If you had really died, how would I have ever found anyone else who would fuck me like this?"

He chuckles, the sound deep and satisfied, proud of his excellent work. Andrew doesn't do anything by half measures, and he treats fucking with the same care that he lavishes on his profession. He spreads me wide, and teases me by licking everywhere except the part of me that wants his attention the most. This teasing and tempting is his specialty, and I love him taking control of me in this way.

"Andrew!" I beg, fisting my hands in his hair. He lets me guide him to my swelling clit. He nibbles it tenderly, laves it with his tongue, then sucks more aggressively.

"Oh, God," I gasp, my body on fire with his attentions.

"Yes?" he teases.

"Oh, you," I try to scoff, then gasp as he slides his tongue in and out of my opening. I am so hollow, I need for him to fill me. He teases me with his tongue, driving me higher and higher. I bite my lower lip to keep from crying out. I belatedly remember that we were supposed to be as quiet as we could be.

Everything in all the world disappears. I am that one central point, I am spiraling upward, my body responding to his attentions. I shatter in an explosion of light, shattered right to my core with indescribable joy.

Sensation eases back with my climax, and I look down at him, poised between my legs, looking as if he might dive in for another round. "M'lord Andrew," I say, "You are overdressed for the occasion."

He grins that enticing Lane grin at me, and says, "Do you think so?"

He slowly undoes the buttons of his shirt, revealing a lean, muscular chest and abdomen. He's still lean and fit like a runner or a swimmer.

He makes a game of removing the shirt, placing his finger just under the collar, and twirling it around, before throwing it over a chair. He then shimmies out of his jeans, and makes a production of slowly removing his boxers. He adds jeans and boxers to his shirt, and stands before me, his manhood erect and displayed for my admiration.

I reach toward him, beckoning.

First with one knee, then the other, he climbs onto the bed. He moves like a great cat, all supple grace and feral intent.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

"Yes!" I say, packing a world of meaning into the word.

We've never struggled with the newness of intimacy like some couples do. Even in our haste, wild with need, the steps of this age-old dance are familiar, well-choreographed, and utterly, soul-drenchingly gratifying. He slides slowly, oh, so slowly, into me. I hear his breath between his teeth as he reacts to me.

Then we move together. Slowly at first, then faster and harder. I grab his buttocks, trying to pull him deeper into me. "More," I beg. "More please."

"Shh," he whispers in my ear as he obliges me, driving into me faster and harder. He places his finger over my lips, his sensitive surgeon's fingers keeping me quiet as shocks of wrenching pleasure ripple outward from the center of me. Only half aware of what I am doing, I lick his finger, and he gives it to me to suck, while he nibbles his way over to my ear.

"Harder," I try to say to him through the finger filling my mouth. Despite the fact that I can barely speak, he growls in my ear, a breathy rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

I wrap both arms around him, as if I can pull myself inside him, even as he is filling me.

"Come for me," he croons throatily as he thrusts. As if the words were key, I am engulfed in a tsunami of pleasure. I hear his indrawn breath that turns into a groan as he follows me over the edge. I feel every muscle as he tenses, feel the joyous pulsing of him inside of me. Then we coast on the waves of after-bliss.

"You are so beautiful," he says. "My dreams didn't even come close."

I try to come up with something witty to say, but what comes out is, "I love you, Andrew." The words are a little muffled because my face is pressed into his shoulder.

"Oh, Maddy," he says, "I love you, too."

Then comes the sad moment when his erection finally shrinks away, and we come uncoupled. But he pulls me close, and continues to hold me.

I drowse in his arms, unwilling to lose the warmth and closeness. Delicious though it is, a hormonal high only lasts a short while. Everyday reality intrudes, I become aware of a need for the bathroom, of perspiration drying on my skin, and a sensation of stickiness.

Then I realize something. "Andrew?" I say.

"What?" he asks, as if he is reluctantly coming back to the real world.

"I think we forgot the condom again." I say.

Andrew gives a shout of laughter, and gathers me into his arms. "So we did. But you know what? This time in the eyes of the world we are married, and I'm not going anywhere."

"That's good," I say. "Because I don't want you to go anywhere."

"Even if you don't like some of the decisions I have to make?" he asks.

That's a hard one, because I know what kind of ‘kingdom' he's about to take over.

"Promise you'll try to stay legal and moral?" I ask.

"I'll do my best," he says. "But it's not going to be easy. You and Paul might sometimes be in danger. I might have to send you back here to the Bunker, or even to Ildogis for your safety."

I sigh, and lean into him. I am thinking of getting my M.D. "We'll cope, somehow," I say. "Just don't disappear again."

"I'll try," he says. Then, as a kind of afterthought, "Shower with me, Maddy?"

"Yes, please," I say.

He scoops me up, and carries me into the shower, somehow adjusts the temperature, and steps in with me.

We soap and scrub each other. I revel in the suds sliding over his pectoral muscles, over his back, his ass, and his penis.

In just a few minutes, he is rock hard again, and I am in a state of absolute meltdown. I rub myself against him, again becoming lost in that glorious haze of sensation.

"Want you," I say, "but the bed is so far . .."

"Never mind the bed," he says, picking me up and bracing me against the shower wall.

I wrap my arms and legs around him, hanging on for dear life. I nearly lose my grip when he slides inside me again.

I am once again lost in a world of sensation. All my attention centers on the feel of his cock sliding in and out, on the feel of his muscles as he holds me.

The water cascades over us. We are wrapped in ribbons of delight. Faint remnants of a song play in my mind, "In, and out, in and out . . " I am boosted up a ladder of delight, trapped between the shower wall and my lover's body.

Again, the world explodes in sensation, this time more like a lava meltdown than sky rockets in flight. I snuggle my face in the crook of Andrew's neck, my aftershocks sending him over the edge.

I cling to him, relishing the feel of his body, of his arms, and of the sheeting warm water.

"Maddy," he says gently, "You need to lower the landing gear so I can let go before I drop you."

"Oh," I say, unlocking my feet from behind his back, and sliding down his front. He sucks in his breath as I do so. We cling together, there under the seemingly endless cascade of water.

His hand makes slow circles on my back. I want to stay here forever, in this waterfall of warmth, where it is just the two of us. No problems, no decisions, just my lover and I, sharing warmth and joy.