Jill likes the way his shirt looks on him - loose enough for comfort, but tight enough that when she looks at him, she can almost see the toned muscle underneath the midnight blue material. The top two buttons are undone, giving her a glimpse at his remarkably pale skin; her fingers reach out to touch it, skimming along the dip of his collarbone (“fossa jugularis sternalis,” he tells her). She quirks her mouth in a lop-sided smile as her fingers move outward, venturing beneath his shirt to his shoulder.
His palm presses to her cheek, and when Jill looks up at him, he siezes the moment by claiming her mouth with his own. It isn’t quite as possessive this time; they’re long beyond that point by now. Her fingers reach for the buttons on his shirt, but his hands cover hers. “Things are going to be a bit different tonight, Jill,” he says, a smile playing on his lips. Before she can even question what that means, he’s picking her up and carrying her off into the bedroom.
Jill’s never been in his bedroom before. It’s dark, and she can’t see much, aside from her captain. He lays her on the bed and stretches out beside her, kissing her again. His hand drifts beneath her shirt and slips underneath her bra to cup one of her breasts. He loves to play with her breasts, finds inifinite fascination in toying with her nipples until the flesh hardens between his fingers and her breath comes in hitching little gasps. He likes to hear her beg, which she does now, whispering his name against his lips.
He denies her, even when she keeps begging please. Her hand reaches up to touch the skin exposed by the collar of his shirt, and she groans as he rolls one of her nipples between his thimb and forefinger.
His mouth is pressed to her neck now and he licks along the pulse he finds there. She’s almost to the point of squirming now, and he’s fucking enjoying it. He pushes her shirt and bra up, exposing her breasts to the cold air. His mouth trails downward, kissing the swell of her breast. His hand is still busy with the other breast, even as he takes the nipple of the other between his teeth and teases it, before soothing over it with his tongue.
Jill’s moaning openly now, arching her back and begging for more. His hand moves away, snaking down her stomach. He deftly undoes her belt with one hand; the button and zipper follow soon after. She shivers, anticipating his hand dipping between her jeans and flesh. He takes his sweet time in doing so, and she can almost feel his smile against her skin. When his fingers delve in to stroke her clit, he remarks on how wet she already is. “It’s so easy to get you going, isn’t it, Jill?” he asks quietly, his voice sounding more like a purr. She whimpered a “yes” in reply as his fingers stroked her in agonizingly slow, small circles.
She whimpers again, bucking her hips forward, again begging for more. He chides her for her impatience, even as his fingers move faster, pressing harder into her clit. She grips the back of his shirt with one hand as she comes, her hips arching forward, thighs shaking. The back of her head digs into the pillow as she rides out the waves of her orgasm.
When she returns to her senses, she finds that he’s moved. He’s at the foot of the bed, pulling her shoes off. Her jeans follow a moment later, and then he’s pulling her to the edge of the bed, so that her legs dangle off the side. She sits up, and in the faint light coming in through the curtains, she can see that he’s smirking at her.
“Captain-,” she starts to speak, but stops as he slides a finger inside of her. It becomes a soft whimper as the first finger is joined by a second. He curls them inward, quickly finding her G-spot and slowly teasing it.
He laughs then, deep and velvety. She’s used to quickies in his office - blowjobs under the desk, a quick fuck with her bent over his desk while everyone else is out for lunch, in his car on the rare nights he’s driven her home. This kind of treatment is new for her. He withdraws his fingers and kneels before her. She frowns; never before has he gone down on her. His hands tease her skin, his fingers still slick with her juices, and he trails his mouth along the inside of her thighs. A whimper escapes her as she leans back on her elbows. She whispers his name when his breath ghosts over her sex. Awkward and insecure, Jill looks to him; their eyes meet. For once, he’s not wearing those stupid sunglasses of his. He smiles at her before his tongue darts out to taste her. She whimpers again.
He’s slow, experimental at first. It’s almost as though he’s trying to discover exactly what she likes best, exactly where to exert the right amount of pressure, what makes her thighs jerk and her toes curl - and he just keeps repeating it, again and again and again. Her head lolls back, her fingers grasping the back of his head and forcing him further, deeper. He grips her thighs, holding her hips down as she bucks against him. She groans as her arm gives way and she collapses to the mattress. His tongue dances circles around her clit, pushes harder; she comes, crying out his name. He slows his ministrations, his hands massaging her outer thighs as her hips spasm against him.
She’s still catching her breath when he moves again. She scoots backward on the bed, watching as he retrieves a condom from the night stand. Their eyes meet, and a shiver runs down her spine when he grins at her. He unbuttons his shirt, but doesn’t strip it off; instead, when he joins her again on the bed, he’s still clothed. He kneels between her thighs, and she can only watch as he unbuttons and unzips his pants. His fingers tease his length for a moment as he in turn watches her. That smile is tugging at his lips again, all confidence and lust.
“Captain,” she whispers.
The grin widens as he pushes his pants and underwear down enough to free his length. He uses his teeth to rip open the condom wrapper, which he tosses to the side as he slides the condom on. He kisses her again, one hand pressed to her cheek as the other guides his length inside her. She arches against him, moaning against his lips. His hips move slowly, agonizingly slowly, drawing another moan from her. His lips move from her mouth, down her jaw, to her neck. Her hands are at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as he moves faster now, harder. One of his hands is at her hip, his grip tight enough to bruise. She gasps against his ear, and it’s almost enough to finish him - almost.
He pushes himself up to sit; his hands lift her hips and hold them there as he pistons into her. His head lolls back, his eyes closing tightly. It’s such a strange sight, her captain so unguarded and unreserved. So beautiful, she thinks. A blush creeps along his cheekbones and he looks at her again.
“Come for me, Jill,” he whispers. “I want you to come for me.”
It sounds as though he’s begging her. She whimpers his name. His thumb finds her clit, rubs it as he thrusts into her. “Come for me.”
Her thighs clasp around him tightly, her fingers dig into the sheets as she comes. She clenches around him, spasming around his length, and it’s enough to topple him over the edge, too. He thrusts wildly into her for a moment before he comes, his head tilted back and his eyes shut tight. His teeth are bared as he grunts - it’s the most noise he ever makes when he orgasms.
His eyes open again, and he’s grinning, his hands rubbing her thighs, almost affectionately. She smiles softly, sleepy. She reaches a hand up to touch his face, and he turns into it, brushes his lips against her palm. It would be so easy to fall in love with this man, she thinks as she rubs her thumb along his cheek.
But the moment passes, and her captain withdraws from her. He gets out of bed and begins stripping off his clothes, announcing to her that he’s going to take a shower now. Jill laughs under her breath, shakes her head. Maybe not so easy after all, she thinks to herself, before deciding to join him.