Posted: June 2004
Title: The Interview
Author: Helena Snow-Renn
Type: RPHet
Characters: Sean Bean / OFC
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: As always, this is fiction. It never happened.
Warnings: Totally self-indulgent Mary Sue. Maybe light kink… a gag to prevent screaming. If either of these is not your thing, don't read.
Beta: ALEX, with many thanks.
Summary: A big break for the newbie takes an unexpected turn…
Author's Note: Because there's not enough SeanHet out there. He needed to leave Viggo's ass alone for five minutes. Not to worry, dear readers. Our lovely MarieSuzanne likes Viggo, too.

*****

"So, the senior reporter is on location; the second lead, out on maternity with twins; one associate AWOL, one sick; one already on assignment; that leaves you." Andrew, my editor, looked worried but at least he wasn't foaming at the mouth. Yeah, me, not the youngest but the newest. New town, new job, new life, all about six months ago.

"So, Sean Bean, the actor," mused my boss, giving me that weird teeth-baring grimace he thought was a smile and cracking his knuckles. Under the desk, he cracked away at his ankles as well. The man was a strange duck. "The British can be hard nuts to crack. Don't let him intimidate you. I don't care what you gotta do, get into his head. Gimme your list." Two minutes of red-lining and scribbling later, the list of questions I'd already been working on for a couple hours was thrust back into my hands.

"There, this might help. Read over it on the train. Then take a cab once you get into the Village. You know where you're going?" I nodded. He pushed two hundred-dollar bills across the desk. "Good. Here you go, just in case. You're buying. Get a receipt." His critical eyes raked over me. "You look good. Try not to fall on your ass, okay? In any sense of the word. People finally know who he is here, but over there, he's been top shelf for years."

Tell me something I don't know.

"And remember, get into his head."

I wondered if Andrew had ever heard the phrase, ‘Middle-class woman's bit of rough.' Somehow, it didn't seem likely.

Fuck.

Sean fucking Bean.

It was a fantasy and a nightmare all rolled into one. I would have killed my own mother for a go at this a year ago. It had gone to the verge of unhealthy, the depth of my interest in the little world he had participated in. It was almost lucky, the flames that had come my way when I started to write about the actors as characters. Too innocent to use a fake name despite a venomous ex who was out to ruin my life, I'd endured the wrath of my places of employment and worship. It had been easier to leave and change my name. In hindsight, that was the best move I could have made for myself. Now, the sour taste in my mouth faded but not entirely gone, I didn't want anything of it anymore.

Except I did.

What I really wanted, let's be honest, ladies and gents, was a chance to go home first for a little stress relief. I was going to have to be totally focused tonight, both about the interview and to hide the inevitable reaction to the man. He had to get hit on all the time; I wanted to be the one true professional. A session with the vibrator would have helped to take the edge off. But no, damnit. There was no time.

Alighting from a generic yellowcab, I gripped my notebook and teeny tape recorder. Thank god I was first to arrive. Hard enough to walk already, without him watching me. ‘Left, right, left right, that's it girl, don't trip on your heels, don't fall on your fucking face, don't catch those big hips on any narrow aisles.' Fuck.

Nervously, I twisted the silver rings I wore around my fingers, and tugged and smoothed at the green suede-like material of my dress. Soon, there he was. His presence shone like the proverbial light in darkness. Near the door, he stood talking to the swarthy host/waiter. When he was pointed in my direction, I rose to my feet. Is that proper, for a woman to stand in the presence of a man? Probably not, but too late. ‘Are you going to salute the flag, dummy? Sit down!' Fuck.

So. He's real. Tangible. Not so much taller than me (in my heels), definitely well-dressed; he looks a little older in person, his face a bit more square, his hair even shaggier than in the Cannes pictures. He speaks quietly and moves in a way to suggest he doesn't want any special attention.

Introductions made, drinks are ordered. I suggested we take care of business before dinner. He agreed affably. "Bit jet-lagged," he admitted.

"Do you want something for it? I have both acetaminophen and ibuprophen if you can believe it." Oh, yeah, I'm a walking chemist.

The corners of his eyes crinkled. "You offering me drugs?" he queried.

"Not the bad kind!" Nice come-back...Not! I got one second of killer smirk and then he agreed to that as well. I fished through my purse to find a little box with four individually-wrapped doses and handed him one.

"Thanks. Though I like taking pills about as much as I like flying." He pulled a face. "Well, Pam, what do you have for me?"

Wouldn't he like to know?

Shushing the errant thought, I launched into the interview; all nervousness flew out the window. ‘I'm in control.' It was my little up-and-coming publication interviewing him, after all. He's just a guy, after all. Yeah, a guy with magnetism like a fucking geographical pole… but forget about it. Do your job, wrap it up, go home with some very pleasant memories.

I paid attention. Scribbled, let my tape run. The man turned almost shy. He hates this, I could tell, however used to it he might be.

"You hungry?" I asked as he eyed the far corners of the room distractedly for a moment.

"Famished! Is it that obvious?"

"You seemed to be running low…" For that, I got a sharp look and then a smile.

The minute he put his hand up, there was a waiter at our table and menus before us. We ordered, and I continued with a few more questions about a movie recently out on video. Every answer is carefully thought out, and though he often repeated himself and used familiar phases over and over, it is not due to any uncaring, just habit. Well, I could edit. No problem.

"In this project, you are neither the villain, a romantic lover type, nor a tragic hero. What are you?"

" An extraterrestrial."

I gave a very loud and disgusting snort, purely out of surprise. Sean stared at me a second, then giggled. Actually giggled like a little boy. I was blushed madly and apologized at least twice. These English and their "good breeding." I was giving "Yanks" a bad name.

"Never mind," said Sean. "Food's here, and thank god." With that, he dived in and I followed suit. The conversation became more relaxed, casual. He asked about my job, and I found myself telling him about my recent relocation and life-overhaul. Not wishing to seem either nosy or like I knew more than I should, I shied away from his current personal life and asked what his childhood was like--much different than mine!

That I got through the meal without spilling anything was a miracle in itself. After the plates were cleared, I had only two or three last questions. When it was done, I thanked him and prepared to go. It was Friday night in New York City, after all. Certainly he had plans.

" Wai' a minute," he said, before I even stood. "Is that all?"

" Of my questions, yes. Why? Did you have anything more you wanted to add?"

" Actually, yes. So, stay." I settled back in my chair, surprised again. I'd assumed your average famous person would want one to clear out ASAP and leave them in peace. "Three things," Sean continued. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure. Was that ‘one?'" I asked, for some reason getting the impression of mental sparring ahead.

"Aye," he said to me, and "Coffee," to the waiter, holding up two fingers. Then he proceeded to tell me, via tape, and as fast as I could scrawl in shorthand, everything he'd wanted to say before, that didn't come up during the "real" interview. That was quite a bit. I wondered if he got this talkative much. Now I would have half a night of editing to do, to retain the true content but to cut the fluff to under two thousand words.

"So, that was ‘two," he finally stated, as we finished the strong Italian coffee.

"What's ‘three?'" I wondered aloud.

"You'll have to turn the recorder off." His voice was so deadpan, and I wasn't looking directly at him when he asked me to, I never expected what came out of his mouth next. I simply reached over and clicked the button.

He leaned forward toward me. When his mouth was within inches of my ear, he said, very low, "Let's cut the shit, lass. Eh? Ah ca' tell by yer face yeh be wantin ' me."

Eyebrows I could keep from rising, mouth from gaping like a fish, nostrils from flaring, but not the damn blush from crawling up from chest to hairline. The heat it was generating meant I had to be the approximate color of a Maine lobster.

"'S all right. ‘ S no different than how I'm lookin' at you righ' now." The green eyes gleamed predatorily.

Right. I'd been rather high off the success of my questions-and-answers flow, along with some act of god that allowed me to speak with him like a normal person… and now this? It felt like failure, somehow, that I must still be bleeding nothing-better-to-do-with-my-life, obsessed-fan-girl underneath my new supposed polish. And, ‘Lass?' What the hell was that? I had a name, didn't I? I looked away from him.

"Pam." Oh, goody. He remembered my name. How nice. The tone of his voice carried a pleading note. What was that all about? "Look, I can't promise you anything but tonight. I've got two long days of pick-ups in front of me, and then I'm gone. Back to London. And, I'm sorry if you're insulted; I'm taking a chance…"

What Internet buzz I remembered always insisted what a sweet man he was. So far, I'd agreed. Up till about twenty seconds ago. My rational mind was pissed. Every thing from the neck down was demanding I throw him on the table and climb on. My response sounded strangled, at best. "On what?" Ah, my lost tongue. Thank you.

"That you'll say ‘no.'"

"Something that rarely happens to Mister Sean, I take it?" Well, that was a little out of line, perhaps, particularly the sarcasm that I couldn't seem to suppress.

He chuckled. His large, warm hand landed on mine where it was white-knuckling the recorder. "Mostly it's me who says no."

That rather floored me, if it was true. "Well, why?"

"Don't you know? I tend to make messes of things. Got quite a track record, me."

"Don't we all?"

"Maybe I take it too hard, then."

I looked over at him. He seemed tense, shifting, waiting for some answer, some indication of yes or no. I stared hard into those world-weary greens. If you believe in reincarnation, which I do, they revealed a score of past lives, many of them harsh.

"Been years since I been with a woman." Oh, the implications of that, if it wasn't just the biggest lie I'd ever heard. "Hell, it's been a while since I've been with anyone." He let that hang in the air while I struggled to keep a straight face.

" Mexico? Malta?" I finally managed. It wouldn't do to give away the extent of my familiarity with his projects. He nodded. The latent, undead, sworn-off, slash-writing nemesis tried to resurrect. " Squeeeee!" Oh, shit, not now! I was going to be sitting in a puddle if this didn't stop.

And, "Shit!" was all I could manage to squeak out. Composure, my ass. But I held on.

"Problem?"

" No. Mental picture."

"You're shaking, lass."

"Am I?"

He picked up my hand and sandwiched it between his palms. It was, indeed.

"Aye. Why?"

It was high time. If I had to kick myself tomorrow, then let it not be one the side of caution, for once, for this, for Sean.

"Because… Oh, fuck it!" He grinned. I took a deep breath. "It's been that long; I want it that bad." I flushed again over the ungraceful delivery. "Where's your room, Sean?"

Sean's pupils jumped. Dilate; contract. The patented slow, sexy smile spread over his lips. I looked at his lips, imagined kissing them. Shit.

"Yes, then." He was asking for confirmation.

"Yes, and please, even."

"With cream and sugar on top?" Wicked man.

"Plenty of that, I'm sure. Probably even seconds and thirds."

Shit. I was having pre-sex banter with Sean-fucking-Bean. What was the world coming to?

He slid out from the table. "Come on now, before I embarrass m'self." I stood too, giving myself few seconds to balance. Then I glanced where I wouldn't have dared before. He'd been fighting the erection battle, that much was obvious. I turned away to allow him time to deal with his not-so-small problem. While I crossed the room and took care of the bill with the waiter, he fussed with his wallet, room keycard, shades.

When he was sufficiently distracted and in control, he collected me and we set off toward his hotel, up two short blocks and halfway down a long. I marched at his side, pointedly not behind. Realization set in. My body felt like it had gone all soft and melty. I was over-conscious of the swaying movement of my hips, the jiggle of my breasts, the exaggerated ‘female' walk those heels necessitated. Sean watched from the corners of his eyes, as if for any sign of weakness or change of mind. Every few seconds, his eyes flashed to the front. Well, one of us needed to watch where we were going.

Once at the hotel, we had to wait for the elevator. The thing was ungodly slow. It stopped at every single floor on the way up, whether someone needed it or not. I stood in front of Sean and leaned back into him. His heat sunk into me through our clothes; I could feel the firm thighs and the mass between, the taut torso, those damn fine, strong shoulders, soon to be laid bare by my own hands. Sean brought one arm around the front of me and gently caressed my waist, flank, up to the underside of one breast. The peak was so tight and achy.

Sean was on the ninth floor. Finally the geriatric elevator released us. A hallway. His room. Behind me, he clicked the light switch. His hand came down on my shoulder. I was pushed against the wall, lifted bodily and then Sean pinned me to the wall, his mouth hard and wet over mine. Our tongues tangled together like playful river animals. I kissed back with all my lust. He forced my legs apart and around him; they folded over his hips and gripped. One of my hands went into his thick blond hair, one to his face, to trace the planes and lines as we kissed. There was no subtlety, just driving raw need. Our eyes remained open, taking in all the frightening consumption of it, feeding off each other's reactions. His larger body rocked against mine, hands near mauling me in his urgency; I couldn't get enough.

"Put me down!" I gasped finally "Take your clothes off!"

"Aren't you the bossy one, Pam?" he laughed, a bit breathless. He let me wiggle down and spun me 180-degrees, unzipped my dress and drew it overhead in one quick pull from the hemline. Before I gave a thought to it, he had broken the thong panties I wore in two places and thrown everything aside.

I turned; he was working at his own clothes, too. Jacket slid off, mock-turtleneck shirt pulled off revealing the chest I had to touch with hands and tongue while his breath grew short and heavy. Now he had found my breasts and he caressed and kneaded at them till they stung. Rock-hard nipples craved the body's release for their own little explosions. Every slide of his fingers against that highly sensate skin sent quivering shots of pleasure to my sex. Following the light trail of hair downward from the middle of his chest across his flat belly, I went to work on his belt. Sean caught my earlobe between his teeth. Another, different, set of shivers cascaded down my body all the way to my toes. When I finished with his fastenings, I pushed his pants and boxers down over his hips. He stepped out of the tangle of clothes and without a second thought, I did what instinct demanded—dropped to my knees.

His rod stood out proudly, alive and purple with blood, from red-brown curls, the balls heavy and meaty below. The near-round head was shiny with moisture oozing from it. I reached with both hands to grasp the shaft and closed my mouth around it.

"Oh, fuck, yeah," Sean's accent went deep ‘Shire. "Suck me cock, lass!"

Starting with the silk-over-steel head, slowly sliding my lips over ridge and valley and shaft, I pulled him in applying all the suction my lungs could muster. My head tilted back, hands extending the mouth-tube for the rest. Lips firmly gripped, tucked over teeth. Suck down, clamp, seal, up and down that throbbing hardness. It took coordination to do all that, not crack my jaw, and still breathe. In, out, in, out, at first slowly, then quicker, till Sean was shaking, pumping his hips, near-jumping with every stray lick to his phallus. I withdrew it from between my lips, shining with saliva and pre-cum. "I gotta lie down!" he said urgently.

He backed over to the large bed. I gathered his balls in one hand, following. As he lay back, I knelt between his legs, head immediately in his lap. It was getting so I felt like a total slut, and in an odd way, I liked it. He certainly wasn't complaining. The musky scent of him drifted up my nose, pheromones tickling my senses; I licked up one side of his cock and down the other, swiping the velvety head. Gently, I poked the point of my tongue into the tiny slit, and let him watch me take in his salt. "Mm, Sean!" Strings of stickiness followed my tongue as I lapped it up.

Sean had his arms crossed behind his head, legs spread around me, something between a half-smile and a half-snarl on his arresting lips. I knew that look. Hell, I'd had wet dreams about that look. It was that of a man totally intent upon his passion, so close is he, who is in the same moment hesitant to use his partner's body as he needs to for fear of seeming the brute. That was a mouthful, too intellectual to actually say at this moment. Rather, I covered his surging organ further with my mouth, giving head till even my nose-breaths ran out and I was suffocating. Sean peeled my hands away from his cock and replaced them on his thin-skinned inner thighs. With eager hands I stroked that soft and sensitive flesh, the fine hair, the tightening sac. He gave sharp little thrusts with his hips, squeezing his ass muscles. Oh, he was lovely, slowly coming undone like that under my willful lips and tongue. I could tell he was holding off, holding back, and wondered why.

Coming up for air once more with hands taking over for my tired mouth, I flung my hair back and asked, "What do you want, Sean?"

He said, " Wha' you're doing is jus' fine."

"Yeah, but that's not what I asked. Please, Sean. How do you want it?"

The reply was immediate. "Lie on yer back, then."

I crawled over him, and did it. The bed was as soft as a cloud. It almost felt like I was floating on another plane. Sean straddled my chest and fed me his cock. Some squeak or noise must have escaped me because he said, "Oh, don't worry, lass, there'll be more t' come." He smiled sinfully and thrust. And again, fast, and faster, with hips pistoning. He dropped to all fours, shoved a flat pillow under my head, and with the added leverage, stuffed my mouth full of cock. The hot, pulsing length of it hit the back of my throat; I opened and swallowed and he let out a high gasp. Every muscle tensed but he kept moving. While the rest of my body writhed on the bed in effort to accommodate the force of his thrusts, I relaxed my neck and throat. We both knew what was going on. He was fucking my mouth, I was sucking him down like the nearest truck-stop whore, and we were both eating it up.

" Oooooh!" The man moaned, low in his chest. My hands flowed up over his hips to squeeze the powerfully flexing buttocks. His thighs started to tremble again, his breathing rasped in fits and starts somewhere above my head. The vein along the underside of his cock pulsed hard; I flicked my tongue against it in answer. Sean moaned and growled; rich blasts of semen burst into my oral cavity. I sucked till my cheeks caved, clamping my lips tighter, milking him of everything he could give. The vicious fluid tasted slightly bitter, like fish and lager. Sean shuddered, still on hands and knees, as I licked him clean, though I'd swallowed most of his offering.

After a moment, he lay slowly down, rolling to his back. He was satiated now, but not me; I was needy. I dragged my tingling flesh up the golden length of him and settled into his arms. He kissed my cheek, then my ear, murmuring incomprehensible words; at least they sounded complimentary.

His breathing returned to normal and he seemed to doze. Being a tactile creature, I decided that if he was not up to giving me pleasure at the moment, then I would help myself to it. Let him sleep. Based on his native time zone, he'd been up all night.

While he rested, I explored his body to my heart's content. Good god. The man was forty-five years old and he was gorgeous. The impression was not made in any conventional way. Up close, he looked his age, so it wasn't a fountain-of-youth thing. Maybe… just the way he was put together. The way he moved. The way he talked. Fascinated by his masculine allure, I touched him freely from ear tips to knees. My fingers glided down his chest, his stomach. He had the cutest belly button—both an innie and an outie at the same time. I combed through the springy pubic curls but left the softened penis alone. ‘He' would let me know when he was ready.

It was something like petting a sleeping lion. Would he wake up and like this, or would he find it cloying and invasive like so many men did?

The ache between my legs had not subsided. Though I moved very slowly, I was also twining and squeezing my legs through his, arching my back, pulling in on my abs and pelvic muscles. Abruptly, he rolled and put his back to me. I wanted to screech in frustration. Instead, I stuck out my tongue and licked his back, down his spine, up over the shoulder blade. Unable to stop myself, I laid both hands on his ass and caressed the firm curvature of it. He shivered, suddenly very much awake. I ran the tip of my tongue to his neck, licked behind one ear.

"Horny?" gruffly, was the only thing he had to say for himself.

"Mm-hmm." I pushed my pubis against the crack of his ass.

Sean turned over again to face me. He looked into my face, eyes slitted from tiredness and something like amusement. "Tell me… are you a screamer?" One side of his mouth curved up slightly.

"Um…" What the hell? "Not very often. Why?"

"So you have before?"

"At times."

"Like what times?"

If he was going to mess with me, then I'd give it right back. He wanted me to spell it out? Fine. "Like, when it's really good. Or if it's really big. You know. Sometimes from getting eaten out…or when I'm getting the shit pounded out of me…."

"Will yeh let me gag you?" Well, that was point blank.

I stared hard into his eyes. "Either you're incredibly conceited… or … Oh gawd!" It hit me. Sleeping Sean was one thing. This other one, alive, awake, more or less telling me I was in for the ride of my life, had fried my brain. With amazing accuracy, he bit a certain spot on my neck that makes me crazy. My eyes must have bugged out of my skull. He continued, " Y'see, just in case, I'd rather not that people hear things… These walls might be thick, but more likely they're not."

"Oh." That was probably true. And if it was just a gag and not being tied up… "Okay, but not with something that's going to gag me in the process, alright?"

"You seem to have a fairly high tolerance for large foreign objects in your mouth." His eyes snapped with humor.

He didn't even have to get up; there was a case or bag under the bed on his side. After rustling in it a minute, he held up a length of dark blue satiny material with a white rubber dowel, about an inch and a half in diameter and four inches long, in the middle. "Can you handle this?" I nodded, and sat up so he could tie it behind my head. My breathing would not be hindered at all, and it would muffle any noises that inadvertently escaped. A person could bite it as hard as she wanted without damaging it. That was good. No doubt I would need to…

"Oh, that's nice," he said, and laid me back down. A second later he was kissing his way down my stomach to my slit. I keep mine totally shaved, out of personal preference. "Look at that bald little cunt," he drawled, pushing my legs apart. And then, his mobile lips and tongue were right there, right where I needed them so badly. Sean shifted around till he was lying in the vee of my legs, legs that widened their position of their own accord and …

My nether lips were peeled apart and that tongue stroked my quivering, itching little nub. I couldn't even watch. From the get-go, my clit went into hyper-drive. Sean's tongue, warm, wet, drag-rasping over my surfaces, found the places that needed friction the most. Far be it from screaming, I was near hyperventilation. Little mewls escaped from behind the gag even as I bit down on it.

He raised his head. His mouth and chin were coated with my juices. "Grab the headboard," he suggested. I stretched both arms up and found it. Then, that tongue again. Two long fingers pushed up into me, sliding in slickness to the knuckles. I tightened those muscles around his digits. My legs moved all on their own to the oddest configuration: one foot flat on each of his arms, but bent double at the knees and flat to the bed. Sean spread my folds back and took the jutting but tiny knot of nerves into his mouth, still swirling crazily. I bore down on his hand, which he shoved back hard with. The long-delayed orgasm approached like a freight train from hell. He licked, sucked, snaked his tongue till I was shaking, bucking my hips as wildly as I could with him holding me down.

And he stopped. "Not yet , baby." I was practically crying with frustration and want. He applied the tongue-tip again. It squiggled and it circled; my orgasm crashed upon me. If not for the rubber bit in my teeth, I would've been wailing like a banshee. Molten lead exploded outwards from the pit of my belly; the tiny ticklish sex-spot under Sean's lapping tongue the center point of it all. Fingers pinched my burning nipples tightly and pulled. I was hissing for all I was worth; odd low growly noises rumbled in my chest. My legs tried to snap together over suddenly over-sensitive parts, but Sean leaned his weight forward to keep them open.

Then he was on me, fully on top of me, and "Oh, god, he's gonna fuck me!" appeared in a thought like an immense, blazing red neon sign. My cunt, still set on spasm, was filled and plundered. This time I did scream. He slid into me balls-deep, spreading me wide. The solid length of him stretched me side-to-side and front-to-back. He set a hard, fast pace. There was no mercy from the start, only more and more frantic pounding. Oh, goddamn! I clung to him with ankles crossed over his beautiful back. The flexing and rippling of his muscles under my limbs only showed me how much he gave of himself, in this.

"I'm not gonna last long… ‘s been too damn long," he moaned. I didn't care at that point. I'd already come once and was well on the way to another climax. I might have been on my back on a bed, but my insides were seething with vertigo, rushing with every slide of him in and out of me. Sean's hands moved all over my body, what he would reach of it. He pulled my hands above my head and held my forearms down. Not losing his rhythm, he assaulted my breasts, sucking one nipple then the other so hard the already stiffened peaks lengthened in his mouth. Finally he buried his face in my neck with a harsh sigh. I felt teeth and it went straight to my pussy. Sean felt the clench and new, wet heat, too. Behind the bit-gag, I was making sounds that sounded like short, soft squeals.

And so it was. It was eternal, if only for those moments. Unable to kiss, Sean slid both arms under me, around my back, and cradled me. His loins slapped against mine with every push of his hips. The furrows across his forehead, the dimples-lines down his cheeks grow deeper and deeper the closer he got to cumming. I got both hands between his chest and mine. His little pink nipples had tightened to tiny beads as hard as glass. I pinched and rolled them, nails scraping. Sean slammed into me aggressively. His mouth was open, even white teeth inches from my face. I wanted to feel those teeth, feel them claim skin, break skin, for the man to swallow my blood. But some things, you just don't ask.

He buried his face in my neck and unleashed his final attack. In the lowest part of my body, his steel-hard cock began to pulse. Sean crashed into me, following its rhythm. All of a sudden he reared back, grabbed both my legs right below the knees and forced them up against my shoulders. From there, he held me down and still while he took his pleasure. Rhythmic grunting deepened into a growl, and then a groaning roar.

Oh, fuck. This was art, this was poetry and light and beauty… Wait a minute... Oh, Christ, I was gonna come. Sean whispered into my ear, "C'mon girl, come for me. Cum on my cock."

He has one of those names that's easy to say in the heat of the moment. As it stood, I'd had plenty of practice. From behind the gag, I said it. I moaned his name, clamping down, shoving him in, hitching my hips into a half-arch to draw him in still deeper. Taking what friction was needed, I grabbed his ass to pull him tightly against my intimate parts, and rubbed my clit against his body. His cock twitched hard; hot seed burst from him, flooding into me. I watched the orgasm move across his flushed face, rip through his still-open eyes.

"Sean…" A second one snuck up on me, and I flew screaming quietly over a cliff of sensation like an enormous freefall, all centered deep in my belly. He spurted his last but remained, lowered his head and collapsed heavily. His weight on me felt so good, the texture of his moist skin, his breath upon my neck, of his chest pressing my breasts flat and his slowly softening member slipping from me. I reached up, behind my head, to untie the bit-gag. The ties had slipped into a knot; he had to help me. It was a delight just to be there, to be inches from his face, to actually stare at him, to stare so intimately at my (no, not my) Sean as he concentrated. He kissed me. It was gentle, soft, a near-careful parting of lips, the lightest touch of tongue.

For the umpteenth time that night, he surprised me. Sean had never struck me as the type for after-play. But he was. Perfectly. His large, articulate hands ghosted slowly over the hills and curves of my body. It was more relaxing than arousing; it was so damn wonderful. His warm body snuggled up against me under the light sheets, his arm draped over me, legs entwined just like before when I'd been desperate to have him, only now I had and the fulfillment of it nearly overwhelmed me. I wondered how much he could read in my eyes. That was a scary thought.

After fifteen minutes of the placid hand- and lip-play, his eyelids began to droop. Regretfully, before I could fall asleep, I kissed him one last time and slid off the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" he rumbled behind me.

I spun around, not having expected any contest. "Home. I have an interview to write up."

"You have till Monday."

" No, till tomorrow, four p.m. That leaves my editor an hour before the deadline to the night run. It goes in on Sunday."

"I have a laptop. And this hotel has Internet ports if you need them. Stay the night. Do your writing tomorrow while I'm working. Then we can play some more." He grinned, humor and lecherous-male plastered on his face. Naked Sean in the bed? Who the fuck could resist that?

*****

THE END

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