For betenoire_rp: Writing Sample #3
It was the smell of her hair that always threatened to undo him.
The very first moment that Sam met Annie, he noticed the smell of her hair. She used some sort of vaguely flowery shampoo. He caught a whiff of it as she stood before him, looking up at him with eyes wide, insisting that the things he were insisting were true were just aftereffects of a concussion.
The afternoon she stood with him up on the building ledge, hand outstretched to him, pleading with him to stay, the wind had carried the barest hint of that scent to him.
The first time she held him, it had overwhelmed his senses, and Sam had damn near unraveled right there on the spot.
Even now, as they tumbled onto the small, thin mattress of his fold-out bed, the springs creaking audibly beneath him as Annie sat astride him, the scent of her hair was nearly enough to drive him mad. She tried to pin his wrists near his head, and he fought her, even though it made her pout playfully down at him.
After all this time, all this longing, all he wanted to do was let his fingers lose themselves in her hair. They closed gently around two handfuls, tugging her down to him, twisting locks between them as they kissed. It felt like silk in his hands and that flowery smell filled his lungs when he inhaled, making his cock strain against the layers of fabric between them, making him press up against her demandingly.
Sam wondered if it would be at all creepy to ask Annie what brand shampoo she used.
He wanted her. He didn't think he'd ever wanted anyone so much in his life. Sam shifted, trying to roll them so he was atop her-entirely forgetting how tiny his bed was. They tumbled to the floor, Annie letting out a surprised and delighted little yelp as she went over. Her hair fanned out beautifully on the ugly threadbare carpet; for a few long moments, all Sam could do was stare.
The phone rang but he ignored it in favor of setting over Annie, leaning in to bury his face in her hair, breathing her in. His hips ground against hers of their own accord and the sensation sent a shudder through his body. All he was focused on now was her, and being inside her. He started to murmur something sweet but it faded, the phone's insistent trilling still sounding in his ears.
Everything started to fade. The flower-scented silkiness of Annie's hair gave way to rough cotton against his cheek. The soft yielding heat of her body beneath his gave way to coolness, flat, the sensation of metal pressing into his muscles here and there. And the sound of Annie's breathless, delighted laughter gave way to the sound of his bedsprings creaking rhythmically.
Sam pushed himself up with a frustrated, strangled little groan, protesting the phone's interruption. The movement tore him that last little distance free from his dreaming-because it had been a dream. Annie wasn't here. He wasn't on the floor with his body pressed against hers; he was face down in his own bed, pathetically grinding his cock against his mattress in his sleep.
She wasn't here. But even as the dream faded, the scent of Annie's hair lingered in Sam's memory.
The very first moment that Sam met Annie, he noticed the smell of her hair. She used some sort of vaguely flowery shampoo. He caught a whiff of it as she stood before him, looking up at him with eyes wide, insisting that the things he were insisting were true were just aftereffects of a concussion.
The afternoon she stood with him up on the building ledge, hand outstretched to him, pleading with him to stay, the wind had carried the barest hint of that scent to him.
The first time she held him, it had overwhelmed his senses, and Sam had damn near unraveled right there on the spot.
Even now, as they tumbled onto the small, thin mattress of his fold-out bed, the springs creaking audibly beneath him as Annie sat astride him, the scent of her hair was nearly enough to drive him mad. She tried to pin his wrists near his head, and he fought her, even though it made her pout playfully down at him.
After all this time, all this longing, all he wanted to do was let his fingers lose themselves in her hair. They closed gently around two handfuls, tugging her down to him, twisting locks between them as they kissed. It felt like silk in his hands and that flowery smell filled his lungs when he inhaled, making his cock strain against the layers of fabric between them, making him press up against her demandingly.
Sam wondered if it would be at all creepy to ask Annie what brand shampoo she used.
He wanted her. He didn't think he'd ever wanted anyone so much in his life. Sam shifted, trying to roll them so he was atop her-entirely forgetting how tiny his bed was. They tumbled to the floor, Annie letting out a surprised and delighted little yelp as she went over. Her hair fanned out beautifully on the ugly threadbare carpet; for a few long moments, all Sam could do was stare.
The phone rang but he ignored it in favor of setting over Annie, leaning in to bury his face in her hair, breathing her in. His hips ground against hers of their own accord and the sensation sent a shudder through his body. All he was focused on now was her, and being inside her. He started to murmur something sweet but it faded, the phone's insistent trilling still sounding in his ears.
Everything started to fade. The flower-scented silkiness of Annie's hair gave way to rough cotton against his cheek. The soft yielding heat of her body beneath his gave way to coolness, flat, the sensation of metal pressing into his muscles here and there. And the sound of Annie's breathless, delighted laughter gave way to the sound of his bedsprings creaking rhythmically.
Sam pushed himself up with a frustrated, strangled little groan, protesting the phone's interruption. The movement tore him that last little distance free from his dreaming-because it had been a dream. Annie wasn't here. He wasn't on the floor with his body pressed against hers; he was face down in his own bed, pathetically grinding his cock against his mattress in his sleep.
She wasn't here. But even as the dream faded, the scent of Annie's hair lingered in Sam's memory.