forthsofar | the cushy sheltered way of life was really no fun

Entry tags:

nick

the cushy sheltered way of life was really no fun

She's kept quiet about it. Not because of any worry or concern, not because she feels as though she's done anything wrong--indeed, in a way this feels the furthest thing from incorrect. There's just been a lot to think about, thoughts and feelings and needs that she's been turning over in her head and trying to parse out on her own before she brings them up with either Nick or Sabrina. She'll need to, because they're the cause of it all, the ones that sparked that odd blossoming warmth within her as they asked questions that held just the barest edge of command behind them.

It could be that she's understanding it all wrong, her relative inexperience turning words murmured in the heat of passion into something that feels more weighty than it is. But somehow, she doesn't think so. Whether she's misunderstood or not, though, Rosie wants to be sure of herself, and sure of what she wants. As she'd been told before, so many times, that's the only way this works.

After a few days of thought, she's ready to open the conversation, and given that they already had plans this afternoon, Nick seems the perfect person to start with. Settled on his couch and entwined under a blanket, they watch--well, mostly--the season premiere of that awful witch show Nick had fallen in love with during his convalescence, the both of them laughing and shouting things at the screen. Once it's over, Rosie reaches for the remote control, clicking the television off.

"Nick," she says softly, a flutter of uncertainty starting up in the pit of her stomach, something she tries to ignore. She turns in his arms until she can press a kiss to his mouth. "Could I...there's something I wanted to talk to you about." Realizing how that might sound only once it's out, her eyes widen, just slightly. "Something...I think it's something good, I promise."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nick shifts to accommodate the way that she turns on his and, gratefully accepting the kiss, both eyebrows slightly raised.

"We can talk about anything you want, babe..."

Rosie doesn't miss that note of surprise in his voice and the way his eyebrows tick up just slightly. Neither of them entirely reassure her, but she's started and the only thing to do is keep going forward. "I know," she says. "I know we can."

She kisses him again, knowing it's just another delay but drawing another bit of confidence from it regardless. "Um, I've been doing a bit of thinking, the last few days. About...when we've been together, when we've been--" Rosie stops, blushing hard and kicking herself a bit internally for her own awkwardness. "When we've been having sex, there've been times you sort of...ask me to do things, or tell me to. Do you have an idea what I mean?"

"I think so?" he says, pausing for a moment. "Like earlier when I asked you to touch yourself when you were on top?" He strokes his fingers along her arm. "You're supposed to tell me if I do something you don't like, Rosie."

Her stomach twists at the reminder and the way he sounds almost concerned. She'd barely even started, and already it seemed as though she was doing it all wrong. There's a moment where she thinks about dropping it entirely, papering it over with smiles and kisses and as much light distraction as she can manage--and with how wrapped up in each other they were, still in the throes of the newness of their relationship, it shouldn't be difficult at all to shift to a far more pleasurable activity.

But she's committed to this, and to him, and that means she has to keep going.

"Yes, like that," she says. "Or when you tell me I'm good after I do what you've asked, or sometimes you have this look when you're watching me take my clothes off. Things like that." Rosie looks up at him, mingled uncertainty and reassurance in her face. "It's...it's not something I dislike, Nick. And I'd tell you if it was, I promise." She swallows hard. "It's quite the opposite, in fact."

Understanding starts to dawn on Nick's face -- a slight widening of dark eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"So you're telling me that you like it? When I do things like that?" He strokes his hand down her arm. "It turns you on?"

She nods, slow and with a bit of hesitation. That softening of his expression relieves a bit of the tension inside her, but there's still enough there, enough questions, that she's not as light and easy about it as he's starting to be.

"I do, and...and it does," she says. "It makes me want to keep doing what you say, or giving you what you want. And it's strange, I know it is, and goodness knows if anyone tried to order me about in any other context I'd be offended, I'd hate it and it'd make me want to do the complete opposite of whatever they were telling me to do, and..." Realizing she's just chattering at him in the way she does so often when she's nervous, Rosie forces herself to quiet, just watching his face for a moment.

"I don't know why it is, whether it's just that I know you've got more experience than I do, or because I trust you so much, but I know I want you to keep doing it. If you want to. Obviously."

"If it helps, it's not that unusual," he says, shifting a little so that he's fascing her properly, twirling her dark hair around his fingers. "I've been known to get off on it myself, depending on who's in charge. Sabrina's pretty good at that." He flashes a brighter smile at her. "A lot of people enjoy handing over control, babe."

"She is," Rosie says, the agreement coming so easily she doesn't even think about it. Not until it's said, anyway, and her face is growing hot with another fierce, deep flush. "Um. When...when we were together, the other week, there were a couple times she asked me to say please before she did something, and. Well, I liked doing that for her, too."

Crinkling her nose and grimacing slightly in embarrassment, she ducks her head a little, not enough to dislodge Nick's hand from her hair. "It's really not that bad?" she asks, knowing it sounds so stupid and naive, the kind of question he's probably never needed to ask for himself, confident and assured as he is. "Maybe all that matters is that I like it, and want to keep doing it, but I just...I want to be sure I'm not doing something wrong."

"It's really not that bad," he reassures her, still playing with her hair. "Especially if it's consensual and everyone's having fun. It's definitely something that we can play with, if you want..."

"I'd only want to do it if we were both alright with it," she says, and it's easier now to lean into that touch to her hair, letting it soothe her as it always has before. "And since it seems we are...yes. Let's play around with it, I'd like to do that."

"Would it help to know what I like, when I play like that?" He asks, head tilted. "Might give you an idea of some of the things you'd like to try."

He's not at all self conscious when it comes to things like this.

Even as awkward as she sometimes feels, being so inexperienced while Nick is very much the opposite, Rosie can't deny how useful it is at times like these. "I think it would," she says, trying to project a bit more confidence when she nods once again. "I could use a few ideas, probably, something to start with."

She smiles again, shy and a little coy all at once. "And I always like hearing the things you're into, Nick."

"Well, the being made for ask what I want. The pleases. That's a good start," he says, shifting so he's more comfortable. "I like a little pain. Being tied up is good. Being called names."

It's quite the list, and Rosie has a sense it's really only the beginning of one much longer. She snags her lip in her teeth, thinking it all over, weighing her feelings. "Names like...like what?" she asks, that one catching her focus--and a bit of her concern--first. "I don't know that I'd want you being mean to me, Nick, not after...well, you know the kinds of things David said, when his stupid charade was all over."

"What I like and what you like don't have to be the same thing, Rosie," he says, gentle. "For me, it's...there's something about the humiliation of being told exactly what I am...it's...really hot."

"I know it doesn't have to be the same, Nick," she says, her tone flustered and a little sharp because of it. "I just...I needed to say that. Ask about that." She frowns, breathing out a long sigh. "Sorry, I know you're just trying to make me feel better about all this."

Curling close to him, she rests there in silence for a few minutes. "I know I like being told what to do, or what I'm...allowed to do, maybe? Like being given permission to touch myself, or being told how to position myself, things like that. And I know I like it when obeying you gets you to tell me how good I'm being, and I've liked it when you use your teeth a little, when you're sucking on my nipples or kissing me."

"So a little pain is okay," says Nick, tugging her hair lightly. "That's good to know."

He pulls her hair, and maybe it's just because it's in combination with their conversation, but something about it makes her breath catch. "Y-yes, Nick," she says. "I suppose a little pain would be okay."

Again, that thoughtful silence; one that has just a faint edge of heat to it now. "I wouldn't want you to leave me like this or anything, like if you were to leave the room, but if you wanted to try tying me up, or...or covering my eyes or something so it'd be a mystery what you were doing to me, we could...do that."

"That's good too," says Nick, keeping a firm hold in her hair, his other hand covering her breast over her shirt and squeezing. "What else? Use your imagination, Rosie."

"Oh, goodness, Nick," she says as he starts pawing at her, that hand still tight in her hair. She can't stop herself--doesn't want to stop herself--from arching into the touch. That twist of uncertainty in her gut is long gone now, replaced with something far more pleasant.

"Dif-different positions?" she tries, after another moment of thought. "I've liked being o-on top, that's good, but...but you could have me from behind? While I'm on my hands and knees?"

He pinches her nipple through her shirt and the thin fabric of her bra, rolling it between his fingers.

"You'd look good like that," he says. "On all fours. Doing what you're told."

The pinch is hard and unexpected; Rosie yelps, but pushes again into the touch rather than away. "I want to...to look good for you, Nick," she says, breathing hard. "However you want me to look."

The words practically fall from her mouth, the tone of them quiet and already so deferential. In a way, the most surprising thing right now is how easy it is for her to start.

"I know you do," he says. "I know you want to be a good girl for me, Rosie." Holding her head in place by her hair, keeping up the pinching touch, he leans in and takes a kiss.

She moans something that might have been a yes against his mouth, kissing him back with so much near-desperate need that she might have found it shocking under another circumstance. As it is, her heart is racing, that now-familiar heat starting to bloom between her thighs, and all she wants is more.

Nick breaks the kiss with an audible, filthy noise.

"I want you to go into the bedroom and strip down to your underwear then get up on the bed on all fours," he says. "Understood?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject