1 comments/ 8398 views/ 2 favorites Chasing Cars Ch. 01 By: KSonoma It's 2:15am when he asks, "so how do you feel about this?" I tilt my head to look over at him as we walk toward his car. The gentle quiet of the residential street is broken only by the rhythm of our footsteps. "About what?" I ask. He flips his hand back and forth between the two of us. "This." Oh. I think back to earlier this evening. He'd spilled wine on his hand as we sat with our coworkers for a glass after service. I'd smiled and offered him a napkin but he'd moved closer, reaching out to wipe it on my leg, then hesitated. "You'd better not," I'd playfully warned. "I almost did," he'd pulled away, leaning back into his chair. "I saw. There's a line, and that might have crossed it." His serious eyes had caught mine for a quiet moment. A solemn nod. What am I supposed to say? I don't want to date a coworker, but we certainly are toeing the line. Over the last eight months, we've been fostering an emotionally intimate relationship without crossing any physical boundaries. Enjoying each other's inappropriate jokes. Bonding over an infinite number of "that's what she said"'. Being vulnerable together, sharing our stories with each other. But we work together - an obvious problem. It's cliche to say it, but having done so several times in my twenty-four years, dating a coworker is simply not a good idea. And yet... watching his tall, lean frame glide beneath his grey suit during a shift often elicits a very physical reaction from me. My eyes travel up his body and I'll catch my hand lifting to touch him. What if I reached out and touched him right now? What harm would feeling his firm body beneath his clothes do? I shrug. "We're cool, no one has crossed any boundaries." He gives me a sideways smirk as we step across the empty intersection. "What if I told you that I wanted to?" I give him my full attention. His eyes avoid mine, looking forward stubbornly. I touch his arm to stop his movement. He turns and as his steady blue eyes focus on me I sense his confidence in our mutual attraction. A small frown sets into my features. Sure, I desire him. But I'm also in control of my hormones enough to see the wisdom in resisting that desire, in directing those energies elsewhere. I take a deep breath and try to clear my mind as I exhale. It's late. I should probably just head home. I break our stare and look onward toward the first line of cars. When I start to turn away he steps toward me and with a gentle hand on my shoulder, he turns me back to face him. Surprise raises my eyebrows and I catch his eyes twinkling in the streetlight. A seriousness to his features anchor me in place. The hungry look he gives me sends a pleasurable shiver up my spine. I feel the goosebumps prickle across my skin. My brain reminds me that it's late and that standing here with him is a bad idea - each moment together in this quiet intersection adds a drop of boiling desire to the growing pool within me. The hand lingering at my shoulder is molten - an unnatural warmth burns where he touches me, sending tendrils of heat across my chest. His eyes flick to our point of contact and then back to my face, searching for the answer to his question. He wants to cross the line. My silence has wiped some of his confidence away and he hesitates, seeming unsure what to do next. The solid, still weight of his hand is asking a question, "may I?" I inhale and a subtle hint of toasted oak and wine tickle my senses. I take a deeper breath, closing my eyes to catch the nuanced scents of his body - the soft sweat of a long work day, the warm leather of his jacket, and that woody cling that speaks of the wine cellar at work. His hand at my shoulder shifts to grasp my arm, gently pulling me toward him. A sudden surge of desire weakens my knees enough that I sway, and quickly both of his hands are gripping my arms to steady me. His momentary concern initiates a cascade of emotions playing across his face and I seem to hear his thoughts as they play across his features. The question lingers in the air between us. The tilt of his head waits for my answer. The hands on my arms come alive ever so slightly and his thumbs stroke the thin material of my shirt. I hold my breath, a quiet observer as the hormones chase heat and electricity through my veins. My stomach flutters and I feel something low inside me tighten. Of their own volition, my eyes travel to his mouth. Those soft, inviting lips are slightly parted and I catch his quick intake of breath. Does he know how long I've wanted to feel that mouth pressed against mine? Too many long, intimate conversations shared at a careful distance have threatened the guilt-free civility that has long existed between us. As each new breath enters my lungs, the idea of resisting the inevitable outcome becomes more difficult to hold on to. The thought of breaking his hold on me, of ruining this moment is too foreign to comprehend. "So. How do you feel about this?" his quiet voice draws me back to the question of the night. I can feel his light grip continue to pull me ever so slightly, inviting me closer. Desire is a solid presence in my chest, aching for me to give in. He senses my hesitation, but his hands are pulling me closer and he's stepping forward. "How do you feel..." His eyes are enveloping me as they flood my vision. "About..." His warm breath reaches my skin and the lingering scent of the wine we'd shared invites me to relax into him. "This..." His mouth aligns with mine and he pauses, a hair's breadth before his lips would fall upon mine. A low sound escapes me, frustrated that he's given me another chance to consider these actions. Is this a wise choice? Likely not. Am I mesmerized by the slow rhythm of his thumbs kneading my upper arm? Am I frozen by the warm breath caressing my mouth as my heart pounds steadily in ears? Yes. "Yes," I whisper, and the quiet of the night crescendos around us. - His slow, hesitant kiss is a soft brush of lips alighting briefly against mine. His mouth continues past, grazing my cheek as the warmth of his breath and the tickle of his mouth burn a gentle line of fire toward my neck. A flutter in my stomach makes me dizzy with anticipation. His cheek caresses mine, the soft whiskers of the day exciting my skin. A hand slides up my arm and cradles one side of my neck, while at the other side, his mouth continues to glide down toward the nape. "Oh," an involuntary sound escapes me. Tantalizing warmth glides under my collar against my skin and I shudder with pleasure. My hands need something to steady myself against and I find his torso beneath his open jacket. Uncertain fingers graze his middle, spreading to trace the lines of his abdomen around his hips. His moist lips tease the curve of my neck as my hands curl under the bottom of his shirt. They find skin and I press my palms against his back, bringing him closer to me. He holds himself still, a solid statue against the pressure of my hands. The torment of his teasing mouth against my neck and the denial of his body pressed against mine release a groan of frustration - my fingers flex and nails press into his skin. His quick intake of breath leaves me only moment enough to realize I've scratched him before his mouth becomes a firm pressure at my neck and, like a switch being thrown, I feel all my muscles relax at once. I stay vertical only due to his hands on me as I struggle to use my palms on his hips as anchors. Reeling from the sudden rush of sensation, I melt into his grasp. The pressure on my neck relents and I feel my strength return. Wow. We stand frozen, my quick breaths welcoming in the sweet warmth of his scent. His hands still hold me while he leans over my neck waiting for my response. I'd scratched him. He'd bitten me - if you could call that sensual bit of pressure a bite. Did I want more? God yes. As a car's headlights wash over us it becomes apparent that we are still standing in the middle of the intersection. Headlamps break the spell and we release one another and move to the adjacent sidewalk. "Wow," he gives me that sidelong look. I try to suppress a grin but the giddy arousal wins out. I bite my lip to hide my smile. "Mm," he hums, watching my mouth. I feel a hot flush leap toward my cheeks and I turn toward his car. I take a dizzying step forward. The next step is easier and after a pause he begins to follow. "You said you'd give me a lift home?" I ask, not sure what to say. "I did say that," comes his quiet reply. Another wave of desire flashes through me. Only the sounds of our footsteps accompany us up the hill to his car. Amber lights flash as he hits his key fob. I step around to the passenger side and tug the handle. "I think my side's locked?" I tug again for good measure. "Oh, it sticks. You have to... I'll get it," he says quickly stepping around the front of the car. As he steps in my proximity again the crisp spring air suddenly thickens and time seems to slow. The only sound heard over his quiet movements is my heart drumming in my ears. A whisper of reasons to step back from him are lost to the night. A part of me still argues for rationality, but having had the smallest taste of him, that part is overridden by my desire for more. Warmth ripples through my body as I flash back to his mouth against my neck. Who knew that area was such a hot button for me? I realize he's speaking. "Hmm?" I answer, shaking my head clear. His silent stare lasts a full breath. "Grab the handle," he repeats. I raise an eyebrow at his tone, but I dutifully turn around and give it a tug. When I look back at him expectantly, he has stepped right up behind me. "Put your free hand on top of the car for leverage." I react to his nearness with a tightening low in my body. As I raise my hand to the top of his car, his right hand envelops mine on the handle and I feel his open jacket flutter against my back. I find myself leaning in closer to the car and his body follows mine, slowly pressing into me. An ache fills my chest and settles between my legs. Desire thunders through me as his left hand alights on my shoulder. Tender touches trace down my arm until his palm pins mine to the top of the car. "You have to lift," he begins, tensing behind me and bringing the lines of our bodies together. "God," I breathe, weakening again and catching myself between him and his car. His hips slowly press into me as he lifts up on the handle. I suddenly want nothing more than to be lying underneath him, feeling his warmth above me as his strong hands grasp my body. "Like this," he murmurs at my ear, giving the handle a quick wrench. The door cracks open and he starts to relax behind me, moving away. No. I quickly press back into the door with my body, shutting it firmly once more. The sudden tension in his arms lets me know I've surprised him. My heart hammers in my chest and I briefly worry about the words forming on my tongue. "I want you," I begin, glancing back, "to show me exactly what I should do." He relaxes and a low hum vibrates through us. "My pleasure." Chasing Cars Ch. 02 He parks on the street and turns the engine off. "I had a really great time tonight," he says into the silence. He's watching me with that quiet amusement in his eyes. I wonder if my eyes reflect the desire I feel burning beneath the surface. I can't help it; want him. After an evening like tonight, my hormones are screaming at me to invite him inside - in more ways than one. He'd been silent on the brief drive to my place. Had my invitation been too forward? Not that I regret it. After months of carefully keeping my distance, my concern for keeping things platonic with my coworker has quickly been discarded. My caution for the future is overwhelmed by the sensations of the present. The heavy air of his car caresses my lungs and I flashback to his breath against my mouth. The warm scent of leather and wood press me back into my seat and I inhale the richness of his presence. My chest rises slowly and his eyes lazily lift to meet mine. Take me, a quiet thought whispers at him. His body language changes. Did some flicker of the hunger I feel for him reach my eyes? It's either that or he is able to read my mind, which isn't the first time I've thought that this evening. He leans toward me and his expression becomes less amused and more sensual. I wonder if he's going to kiss me again. He glances at my mouth and I turn my body to face him. Yes, my mouth - I lick my lips - wants to join with yours. That teasing brush of our earlier kiss was seductive but ultimately unsatisfying. I lean forward, inviting him for another. That amused flicker touches his eyes again. "May I walk you to your door?" Fuck, he's playing with me. He knows I want him. Is he enjoying watching me squirm? I guess it's fair - I suppose I am the one who's been adamantly maintaining the distance between us. Just because my will has slipped and I want his firm body pressing into me doesn't mean he has to give it to me. I flashback to him standing behind me at his car, and the thought of him hard beneath his jeans sends a wave of arousal over my body. He hasn't even touched me and I'm already wet for him. I recover, "you may." I can't help but smirk as I wonder what will happen at the door to my apartment. Will he kiss me? Please, sir. Will I invite him in? Will he invite himself in? Or will we wait until next time I need a ride? Sigh. I could use a good ride right now. We step out of his car, and he follows behind me as we cross the road. I recall that first kiss again and almost walk a little slower through the street just to give him a chance to reenact it. No such luck. We ascend the sloped driveway to my building and I step up the two stairs into the covered entryway outside my door. He waits on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, watching me curiously. Damn it. What am I supposed to do right now? Desire is coursing through me, but reason threatens to make another stand. It's probably too soon for sex, right? According to some. But my libido is screaming at me to forget about all that and just invite him in. My hand is in my jacket pocket, wrapped around my keys. Indecision plagues me. I sigh with frustration and lean back against my door, facing him. That seems to please him. He casually climbs the two stairs to join me on the porch. "Carson," I begin. "Kris..." he breathes, taking a small step closer to me. I can feel the heat from his body. With my back to the cool door, the contrast in sensations distracts me. What was I going to say? Jesus he's standing so close, and he's so goddam appealling. His 6'1" lean, athletic frame teases me from under his clothes. I know he's a runner and a former martial artist - I've already caught myself thinking naughty thoughts about his stamina and his strength. I involuntarily bite my lip. This is so frustrating. I just want to touch him. And dammit, I want him to kiss me. His eyes watch my teeth nibble at my bottom lip. His mouth parts slightly and he breathes the heavy air. His exhale is so close that his breath lands on my neck, giving me goosebumps. He raises his gaze and catches mine. I can hardly stand to look at him standing so close. This slow torture is incredibly arousing but equally infuriating. He licks his lips and raises his left arm, extending it to lean against the door. My skin is on fire with the feel of his warm body so close to mine. His right hand rises and he gently takes hold of my chin. He leans in, and I moisten my own lips. His breath caresses my mouth and I suppress the frustrated whimper that threatens to escape me. Fucking kiss me, Carson. Please. He turns my chin to the side and his lips land upon my neck. He doesn't start gently; his mouth finds that sweet spot and with the perfect pressure, he bites down. My knees buckle. He catches me and pins me to the door with his body, stepping his leg between my thighs and pressing his hips against me, never moving his mouth from my neck. He bites again, and this time I can't suppress the sound that escapes me. "Oh," and I wonder if my neighbors have their window open. Don't care. I recover enough from the shock of sensations that my hands are able to find their way under his shirt. A moment of pleasurable deja vu hits me and I willingly replay our earlier scene. I knead my fingertips against his back, and the next round of pressure against my neck sends my nails digging into his skin. He shudders and moves to lean away from me. What? No. "No." I hook my fingers into his belt loops and pull him firmly against my body. His lips find mine and I finally get that kiss. Our tongues meet and a quiet note of pleasure eases past my throat. My hands crawl back under his shirt, kneading the firm muscles and itching to scratch him again. He grasps my hips and presses himself against me. I can feel him growing harder under his clothes. God I want to touch him. My hand hears that thought and reaches down between our bodies. He leans back just enough to let it pass, and I flatten my palm against his crotch. Right there. I grip him over his jeans, stroking once up the length of his shaft before letting go. His mouth slows against mine and I can feel him pulling back, putting on the brakes. He gives me one more tender kiss and then leans a shoulder against the door, facing me as I face the sidewalk. I take a deep breath and my teeth find my lip again. I almost laugh as I realize that at least a few of the neighbors can probably see us through their windows, despite the sheltered porch. But it's late, and also: don't care. I look over at him. He's breathing deeply and watching me. He reaches a hand over and his fingers trace lines from my shoulder down my bare arm causing the goosebumps to return. I turn and mirror his position, one shoulder against my door. A seductive smile plays at his mouth. He glances out across the sidewalk at the neighbor's house. I follow his gaze. Their curtains are drawn. Lights are off. But someone could wake up or come home or walk by at any moment. He looks back at me and reaches for the button on my pants. I wrap my hand around his wrist gently. "Wait." He hesitates. I bite my lip and then, deciding, I trace lines up his bare forearm. He takes this as a signal and he proceeds, unclasping the lone button. His fingers slowly find their way under my shirt, tickling my stomach and tracing a line along the top of my pants. I inhale with pleasure. His fingers hook into a belt loop and he rotates us, putting my back against the door again as he steps in front of me. He uses both hands to slowly drag my zipper down, watching me the entire time. Heat pours over my skin and my body radiates with desire for this sexy creature in front of me. I glance once more toward the neighbors. Shouldn't I stop this at some point? I can't. I haven't been touched like this - with tenderness, with passion, with confident intention - in far too long. Coherent thought evaporates as his fingers gently trace a line down the front of my pants, following the zipper to the seam that leads between my thighs. My clit throbs as he caresses it carefully over my clothes and teases small circles along my inner thigh. He leans his mouth in close to mine until his breath presses against my lips. A pulse of desire adds to the pleasant aching inside me. He moves his hand up to find my waist line and then, gently against my skin his fingers slowly slide under the material. His lips are tantalizingly close to mine, and I can tell when he realizes I'm not wearing any underwear - a smile breaks across his face. He allows his top lip the slightest contact with mine as his hand slowly inches down over my landing strip. He teases his lips against my mouth. Mine opens with invitation, begging him to kiss me. His fingers skip past my clit, reaching lower until he discovers how wet I am. He grins again and allows his finger to moisten in my folds before he slowly shifts forward. He hesitates, hovering over the sensitive button begging for his caress. In a synchronized movement, his mouth falls softly against mine as he gently brushes his moistened finger against me. Oh god. He moves with a slow rhythm that makes me moan involuntarily. Electricity arcs from each point of contact until even my feet begin to tingle. The slow, careful way he massages my sweet spot while kissing me so tenderly cause a high voltage pulse to course through me, bringing my attention to the building pressure between my legs. The fact that he's about to make me come while standing here on my porch hardly registers. My breath quickens at the growing intensity and I reach for something to hold onto. The steady pace of his movements don't waver as my hands find his body and fingers grasp at his shirt. I hear myself whimper as the throbbing pressure threatens to become too much. I want to touch him. My hand reaches down and I find him, firm and ready beneath his jeans. I grab him over his clothes and he bites down on my bottom lip, the hand between my legs fighting to maintain that steady pace. He brings me in that moment, and the rolling climax that crashes through me overwhelms my senses. An explosion of sensation erupts from low inside me and my entire body tingles. He doesn't stop caressing my clit, and each beat of pressure makes me shudder uncontrollably. He uses one arm to support me as my knees buckle yet again. His mouth smiles against mine as he teases me, making me shudder over and over as I drown in sensation. Finally I manage a weak, "stop," and he slowly removes his hand from my pants. He waits until I open my eyes, then puts the tip of his finger in his mouth to taste me. He closes his eyes and smiles. "I'd fuck you right now, here on this porch," he says in a low voice. "But," he begins, re-buttoning my pants, "we can save it for another time. Goodnight, Kris. I had a really great time tonight." He shoots me that amused smile and then leaves me there on the porch.