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About Tehuti
I am an amateur writer of novels, serials, and novellas. Most of my work is in the genres of fantasy, mythology, drama, occult, GLBT, and erotica.
As I'm not seeking publication, I offer my work online for free reading. I'm not seeking stylistic critique so much as feedback from people who just like reading what I write. I love hearing what people think of my characters, plots, themes, etc., so if you have any comments or advice on those, feel free to share. I'm not hugely popular and often go many months without hearing from readers so I enjoy all the comments I get!
My interests are Ojibwa mythology, Mackinac Island, Egyptian mythology, Jungian symbolism and dream interpretation, ritual crime, fantasy writing, and various other things you can find in my personal bio, available just to the right. Please click to learn more about me and what I'm looking for in terms of readers and potential friends.
Feel free to hit me up if you're interested in any of these things, and enjoy my writing!
Tar! :) |
Thank You CODE: D (set in the D Is For Damien storyline)
TAKES PLACE DURING (specific story): NA (post-Missing Pieces (unwritten))
PAIRING: Lt. Alan Kincaid/Det. Michelle Rosedale (M/F)
EXPLANATION: Holy schmucks, Tehuti, ANOTHER adult piece?? As usual, I have a lengthy explanation for this one, so if you just want to see smut, skip everything in bold text.
Firstly, see "We Don't Have To Talk," to be properly introduced to newish character Det. Michelle "Mike" Rosedale, who comes to Minot, ND to help in a missing persons case, or, rather, to ask for Det. Max Kristeva's help in such. (He has a knack for such things.) If you don't feel like reading that particular scene, the basic rundown is, Rosedale gets acquainted with Det. Justin Reichert and the two hit it off immediately as great friends; so great, in fact, that they both go out, get sloshed, and hop into bed together...well, eventually they hop into bed, after stopping by the coffeetable...in any case, the morning after is incredibly, incredibly awkward. Why is that? Because Reichert happens to be gay and is already in a..."relationship"...with Officer Joe Silvertree (see "First Ride" (outdated) and "Before Anybody Misses Us" for their lovely story). Fortunately, Silvertree isn't the jealous sort, even though he's the sadistic, unstable, abusive sort; Reichert is used to getting knocked around, though this incident won't cause waves for him. Unfortunately, Rosedale ends up pregnant.
A while back, I started to write an adult scene featuring Lt. Alan Kincaid and Mandie from the novel Minot. Somewhere in the Black Binder you can find a couple of scenes with Kincaid, one of which is a dream, the other of which is out of continuity and so didn't happen. SPOILERS for Minot: Kincaid was kidnapped from his home when he was around nine and used in abusive rituals by a small cult, until his rescue around age sixteen. The noticeable results are partial amnesia, a distinct limp (from being repeatedly stabbed in the leg), and seriously flat affect (a defensive measure toward the abuse). Aside from the few points in Minot when he REALLY loses his temper, and the part at the end when he pretty much goes temporarily psychotic (the diagnosis in that story should be changed to PTSD, BTW), he acts and talks nearly like a robot, with very little emotion, either good or bad. Needless to say, all of this makes him highly unlikely to be in a stable romantic relationship. Though I did try. (Witness the two crappy scenes mentioned.) Neither of those worked out. I thought it would be quite interesting if he ended up, at least temporarily, with Mandie, who, following the events of the novel, goes into hiding from the cult until an indeterminate story/novel in which the people involved in the earlier novel have to go into police protection, and Mandie ends up under Kincaid's supervision. Considering their very weird history, it just seemed like an intriguing match. I do still feel it has potential--for a brief fling. The scene has sat unfinished, barely even started, for a while now, but I won't write it off as fantasy; perhaps it happened before the scene here, and helped prepare Kincaid for something a bit more down to earth.
Following parting ways with Reichert (who's decent enough to vow to agree with whatever Rosedale decides to do about the pregnancy, including providing child support if she decides to keep it), Rosedale is of course quite despondent and uncertain what to do; as this scene makes clear, she goes through with the pregnancy, though makes plans to put the baby up for adoption. (Undecided whether this will actually happen in the storyline yet.) She's grown close to the Minot police due to Kristeva's and Reichert's extreme efforts at finding who's missing; they each have their reasons for this cause being close to their hearts: 1. Kristeva is himself, like Kincaid, a ritual abuse survivor, and deals frequently with abuse in missing persons searches--plus, the detective who in Kristeva's childhood saved him from drowning, and whose personality Kristeva modeled his own after, went "missing" until his body was found years later; 2. Reichert was himself a missing person for approximately three days, when he was buried under the rubble of the World Trade Center, and has never gotten over how many other people were never found; and 3. Rosedale's brother went missing when they were both children, and she's never quit looking for him, even after the dissolution of her marriage. Kincaid works on the same Ritual Crimes Unit that Kristeva works for (in addition to Missing Persons), so of course Rosedale comes into contact with him too, though their interactions in Missing Pieces are minimal. Well, after Rosedale ended up preggers, the thought suddenly struck me that perhaps, she and Kincaid...? Kincaid is messed up, but not as badly as is Reichert, and his seeming lack of emotion can actually prove useful in stressful situations, such as that Rosedale finds herself in. It seems like the two of them might be good for each other, if things do work out.
In an unwritten followup scene to this, Rosedale wonders why Kincaid has shown any interest in her in the first place. She learns that just as with Reichert, he shares a particular detail with her: As I already said, Kincaid is a kidnap victim, a missing person who has yet to discover his real name, family, and place of birth. Odd how these guys keep getting drawn to each other.
Let the following scene unfold--Rosedale, after paying a visit to the Minot Police Department, discovers that her car won't start, and it's an hour's drive to her home, plus she's quite pregnant, but oh look, here's Lt. Kincaid on his way out as well, would she like a ride?--and we'll just have to see in the future if it works out. (Unlike virtually every relationship of Reichert's, except with Silvertree.)
DISCLAIMERS: None yet, except for how physically awkward some of the stuff here might be. Not yet proofed, so beware typos.
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Thank You
Rosedale didn't mean to take nearly as long as she did to get unbuckled, though the belt gave her trouble enough what with her extra girth. As if Kincaid going out of his way to make the hourlong drive to her home wasn't enough to ask. He reached her door before she could open it, and so she felt obligated to take his hand when he offered it again. She leaned on him slightly as she got out, wincing a bit that she had to do so, but he said nothing about it. He shut the door behind her and they both turned to go up the walk to her house. She made a point of keeping silent, since she felt she'd talked his ear off during the ride, when he didn't even strike her as a chatty person; he hadn't said much during that hour while she poured out everything that had been on her mind lately, but at least he'd been polite enough not to yawn or roll his eyes, that she could tell.
She let her thoughts drift so the walk seemed much longer than it was, though it couldn't have lasted more than a minute. She rather wished she'd been able to get in touch with Reichert that evening, since she could have used a talk with him. With a start she realized that almost everything she'd intended to talk to him about, she'd just gone over during the car ride. She was grateful for the relative darkness that hid the blush she felt rising in her face. She hadn't meant to be so open with him, but then again she hadn't realized just how alone she felt without even Reichert to talk to. For the hundredth time she mentally cursed the fact that he didn't care for women unless perhaps both of them were plastered out of their minds. And look where that got us, her mind added, and she unconsciously put one hand to her belly just as Kincaid's pressure on her elbow reminded her of the slight step before the door so she wouldn't trip.
With a start she realized she didn't have her house key on her; when Kincaid gave her a questioning look she pointed meekly at the side of the stoop. "There's a key behind the loose brick," she said, feeling quite lame, but again he crouched to retrieve it without any sort of complaint. Rosedale let out a small sigh and rested both hands on her belly now. "Looks like I'm finally due for some vacation time," she said as he unlocked and opened the door for her. When it got to the point where she couldn't even unlock her own door, she supposed it was best for some time off.
She pushed the door wide enough open to slip through and set one foot in the house, then awkwardly half-turned to thank the lieutenant for all his trouble and offer to repay him somehow, though she assumed he would just refuse. It took her the slightest half-second to notice he hadn't let go of her elbow yet, as if to make sure she wouldn't trip over her own threshold, but for some reason this puzzled her. She saw his silhouette--her porch light wasn't on, so they were both now plunged in darkness--and then he was kissing her. The offer of reimbursement that had been in Rosedale's throat died out in a little startled noise, but she didn't pull away--for a moment she was too confused to. She felt an almost imperceptible shiver pass through her, then her confusion grew when she realized her heart was starting to thud faster and an ache abruptly flared between her legs. That made no sense--none of this did. What was going on? She hadn't had any reason to suspect anything other than the offer of a ride and assistance getting in her house; if she'd been giving any other sort of sign, she couldn't recall it. She couldn't recall him giving any sort of sign.
Perhaps before Reichert, and before all of the past eight months, she would have surely broken away by now and probably inflicted some sort of bodily damage, as well. But for some reason she remained rooted to the spot as their tongues met and his teeth lightly scored at her lips. Eight months. It had been eight months since that night with Reichert, and before him, it had been several years. Even as she and Reichert had parted ways that awkward morning, as she'd stood in the shower, the feeling of him inside her had made her ache anew. They would've been perfect for each other if not for one obvious fact. She was even further surprised to realize that in the past eight months she'd barely even thought about sex, had seemed to purposefully shove the thought from her mind as something that wouldn't be happening again any time soon. What had made her think that? Reichert wasn't the only person in the world. That was no surprise. The surprise was receiving this kiss from somebody else so close, somebody who'd been involved in all the same investigations as she and Reichert but who as far as she knew hadn't known she existed other than as just another detective.
All of these thoughts swam through Rosedale's head in a matter of seconds. Kincaid's mouth parted from hers and she had to take a breath, she felt so dizzy. For some reason she half expected to see him turn around and disappear down the walk toward his car and that would be that. When a mere two or three seconds passed and she realized he was still there, she withdrew her other foot into the house, keeping hold of the door--both to keep her balance and to try to hide how badly her arm shook--and opened her mouth to tell him thank you for the ride, it was appreciated, only the words "We can go inside the house," were stammered out instead. Her mind did a startled flip and she wondered why she'd said such a thing; when Kincaid's mouth met hers again, his formerly supporting touch on her elbow moving up her arm, she understood why she'd said it. It had been eight months since anyone had touched or even looked at her. Even with Reichert, she was pretty sure it was mostly the alcohol responsible for what happened. Before that, several years alone, following the bitter final year of her marriage. When was the last time someone had touched her--sober, in their right mind--not because of too many drinks, but because they wanted to? The pain flaring even harder between her legs drove the point home, and she didn't protest when he stepped into her house, shutting the door behind him. She felt his hands take hold of her face to tilt her head back and she fought not to shudder, with his body so close to hers that she could feel her nipples hardening. She gingerly, shakily put out a hand to touch him, her fingers grazing his lapel. He took a step and closed the gap between them, their kiss deepening, and Rosedale felt a sudden bitter twinge. The bulk of her pregnancy prevented him from crushing her to him, if he'd wanted to, and she nearly pulled away as it would be far easier to end it now rather than wait until things grew even more awkward. She supposed this was what cold showers had been made for.
Her lips pulled from his and she took a shaky breath, though their heads stayed close, and she couldn't see his face but could hear him breathing in the dimness. At the same time that she broke the kiss she trailed her fingers down his arm to his hand and made a point of pulling it forward just slightly, as if on accident, so his fingers brushed against the conspicuous swell standing between them. She put one foot back in preparation of taking a step back and giving him his space to withdraw, hoping the darkness would make the feigned nonchalance on her face look more believable. She didn't expect his hand to stay on her, and she certainly didn't expect it to slide up the curve in a motion that made her shiver, his other hand slipping behind her back to draw her close again. This time when he kissed her, she didn't bother trying to hide the way she shook, fighting down a whimper and squinching her eyes shut. By now the searing throb between her thighs and in her breasts had her nearly in tears; when Kincaid's hand trailed up and gently cupped her, her nipple straining tight against the fabric of her blouse and her bra, a small, desperate sound at last escaped her throat, and she grasped his arms and guided him through the house, their kiss not breaking, she relying on him to keep hold of her in case she stumbled.
When they reached her bedroom door--it felt like an eternity of walking backwards through the dimness--Rosedale's fingers fumbled so much on the doorknob that she couldn't twist it open. She felt Kincaid's fingers touch hers and then the door was opened and they moved inside. She led him to the bed, her legs meeting its side, and gasped softly as his kiss moved down her neck and up again. The gentle pressure of his hands on her arms coaxed her into sitting down, and he bent over her now as he still stood, though she looped her arms about his neck, not wanting his mouth to leave hers. She had no idea what they would do. The state she was in made sex an awkward prospect, but she barely cared. By now anything would be better than nothing. If he hadn't been repelled already, she doubted he would be now.
She reached up a shaky hand to clumsily start to unbutton her blouse, her breaths coming hard and fast. Kincaid lowered himself to his knees so now she had to bend forward slightly to kiss him, and her hand joined his on her belly, expecting him to undo the rest of the buttons. She was hazily confused when she felt his fingers working at the buttons of her pants, instead. Rosedale decided not to question it; she shifted first one hip, then the other, wincing slightly when their kiss was broken, the awkward movements enabling him to loosen her pants and pull them down her thighs. She didn't even notice at first that her underwear went with them, until she felt the bedspread against her bare buttocks, and shivered as if the sheets were cold. Kincaid slipped her pants off her ankles, taking her shoes and socks with them, and a dim part of Rosedale's mind felt embarrassed that above her waist she should be fully dressed, whereas below it she was now pretty much naked. She didn't get to think about this long; the thought fled her mind the moment she felt Kincaid's hands on her knees, and then his mouth between her legs.
Rosedale let out a startled cry and jerked, her fingers digging into the bedspread and twisting it violently. When Kincaid's tongue ran over her clitoris, she dropped her head back with a low moan, thighs trembling, her body as tight as a drawn bowstring. This was one of the last things she'd expected, but by now she didn't care; the spasms of pleasure coursing up through her eradicated almost all rational thought. Her husband hadn't done that. Reichert hadn't done that.
She continued to moan, more loudly now, her belly quivering, as his tongue worked over her, bringing her almost to climax several times over, each time withdrawing just in time, as if he could read her fevered thoughts. He pulled back at last and she could hear his breath coming slightly hoarse in his throat; she whimpered and bit her lip hard as his hands squeezed her thighs and he stood again. Rosedale gasped brokenly for breath. She hoped now was the time. She hoped now it would be done. She didn't think she could handle any more of the preliminaries. Her most sensitive spots were on fire; if she didn't come soon she never would.
Now his fingers worked at her blouse. She attempted to help him, though she probably merely slowed him down, her own fingers were so clumsy. She was the one to remove the blouse, pulling it almost violently from her shoulders and tossing it aside. She expected him to yank her bra up over her arms, not for his fingers to slip under and deftly undo the clasp. It came undone, and Rosedale's breasts, no longer small, now swollen with milk, bounced free, resting against her belly which, she only now realized, was bared. This realization at last cleared her brain somewhat. She was naked--nothing else kept him from her but his own clothes, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to attempt to undress him. She had to fight not to cover herself up as a sudden embarrassment surged through her. It felt almost like some sort of cruel joke--now that she was exposed, now that she was trembling with need, there was nothing to stop him from stepping back with a sharp laugh at her gullibility and turning to head out the door. She didn't know why this image entered her head--Kincaid had never shown any signs of enjoying such behavior--but the dread of it was overwhelming, and she briefly wished she'd never accepted his offer to drive her home. The awkwardness of the morning she and Reichert had awakened in the same bed came surging back to her as well, and she'd never wished more to turn back the clock. Things could go back to normal, life could go back to normal, if none of this had ever happened, and she wouldn't awaken yet again with that sense of guilt and humiliation overpowering her. Hadn't that morning taught her anything?
Rosedale bit her lip again to avoid speaking aloud and making even more of a fool of herself. In the darkness she could barely see Kincaid's hands move to his shirt; his breath was steady and even, though quicker and heavier than it had been before, and she watched him rather dumbly as he removed his tie and jacket, his shirt quickly following. He leaned down toward her and they kissed again, Rosedale sinking back onto the bed, Kincaid slightly to her side. She moaned into his mouth and slipped her hand down his chest, his tight belly, but the motion was stopped by his belt. She shivered and whimpered, shutting her eyes tight; the sound of Kincaid unbuckling his belt made her shake harder at the implications. She tried not to think too hard, not to expect too much. She couldn't expect too much, what with even now how he didn't drape himself over her, but stayed to her side; the bulk of the baby resting inside her pressed on her heavily, making it difficult to breathe, and she had no idea why he'd even bothered. Perhaps if he'd kept his tongue between her legs...she could always stroke him, or even mouth him, in return, for how much he'd already granted her tonight. Merely to be touched, because he wanted to touch her, was arousing enough. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so desired.
She dimly heard a rustle of clothing and felt him shift; she shakily put out her hand, and her touch alit on his hip. She wished to run her fingers forward and touch him, stroke him, but wasn't certain if that was what he wanted. Aside from the catch in his breath, she didn't even know if he was aroused or not. He slipped his hand beneath her to help her slowly sit up, and she arched her neck, his tongue grazing the hollow of her throat. Now that it was plain he wasn't going away, she knew the three ways this would turn out. He could mouth her again, and she could mouth him in return; they could satisfy themselves merely running their fingers over each other, which she knew she would enjoy, seeing as it meant they could continue to kiss, and the slight roughness of his hands made her skin tingle; or she could bend forward, grasp the headboard, and open herself for him. Reichert had enjoyed her this way, although he hadn't had her extra girth to contend with. Holding on to the headboard rather than sprawling over a coffeetable would surely smooth things along.
Kincaid drew his knee up into the bed, and as their mouths still met, she fumbled to move with him, her lips pulling at his hungrily. She couldn't stand it; her hand left his arm and quested lower, until at last her fingers brushed something and then caught it, and Kincaid's breath hitched. Rosedale shivered sharply, gasping, gingerly letting her fingers slide down his very much erect shaft and trailing them in the hair at its base. He obviously wanted this as much as she did. He took her hand, easing it away from him, although they still kissed, and he slid about so he almost reclined on the bed. She pulled her other leg into the bed as well, and awkwardly got to her knees, attempting to turn herself about. He kept his hand on her hip as if to guide her, the other stroking her buttock and making her whimper. She started to draw herself toward the headboard, but he stopped her, his grasp tightening on her hip. Rosedale halted and half turned her head, which felt as if it were spinning. Lust clouded her thoughts; Kincaid's motion confused her. After all that he wasn't going to go through with it after all? She couldn't figure out how she'd gotten this wrong. It had seemed pretty obvious what they both wanted to do.
She stopped straining toward the headboard, sitting back heavily upon one knee, her breath coming in quick spurts. If she'd misunderstood and he intended to mouth he as she mouthed him, she was fully willing to go along. Whatever to relieve the throbbing pain. She started to shuffle back a bit, and when both of his hands slipped over her hips, and he started to lie back on the bed, she lifted her leg to straddle him, and prepared to shift her opening toward him, and her mouth over his hardness, but again a gentle but firm pressure from his hands on her hips stopped her. She almost let out a wail of frustration, his actions were so bewildering.
She at last stopped trying to move back, forward, any which direction, deciding to let him move and determine what they were going to do. By now she didn't even care. Anything was preferable to waiting. She hoped the strained noise that arose in her throat signaled her need clearly enough. Kincaid's fingers trailed down her hips, to her quivering buttocks, then up between her legs. Rosedale shut her eyes and tilted back her head with a shaky sigh. His rough thumb rubbing over her most sensitive spot almost made her convulse upon him right then and there; but she felt him parting her instead, drawing her labia back to expose her slick opening. Rosedale dropped her head forward again, so frustrated and confused she had no idea what to do. She arched the small of her back to part herself wider for him. If he was going to slide his finger inside her, all his fingers, his entire fist, then she wanted him to go ahead, do it, no matter how much it hurt, it was better than all this waiting.
Once he must have noticed how she was spreading herself wide, Kincaid pulled his hands from between her thighs and again grasped her hips. He pulled her toward him; Rosedale shook, not understanding. Only now did she think to glance down. She was positioned over Kincaid's groin, his legs stretched out before her, his shaft--barely visible in the dimness--rising hard and swollen as if straining for her. Understanding at last flickered in Rosedale's foggy brain. It felt as if her heart shot up into her throat, making her gasp and struggle to breathe. They couldn't make love with she upon her back, he atop her; likewise sitting up, or with her lying prone. It would be too awkward, her heavy belly impeding their movements. He hadn't bent her over the headboard as she'd fully expected him to, the most convenient way for them to accomplish their needs. Instead, he lay upon his back, his hands guiding her toward him, into a position she hadn't expected but knew would pleasure and satisfy her. She partly couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it, partly couldn't believe this was what he had chosen to do. Her husband wouldn't have done this. She didn't know if Reichert would have done this, and by now didn't care.
Rosedale dropped her hands to grip Kincaid's thighs, panting and grimacing as she ponderously shifted herself over him. He guided her legs to come down at his sides so she straddled him, still aloft, but by now gasping in anticipation. She let her eyes go shut once more when she felt the lieutenant's hands slide over her hips, fingers stopping just shy of the soft nest of hair; she allowed him to slowly but firmly pull her back toward him, her only active motion to arch and splay herself as wide as possible, then to place her hand on his erect shaft, he guiding her, she guiding him, until she felt the head slip past her wet lips, at which she let him go and went loose, and Kincaid swiftly drew her back onto him, his penis burying itself within her as their bodies met.
Rosedale tossed her head back and went tight again, a low moan escaping her throat, breaking off in a dry sob. She dimly heard Kincaid's accompanying sharp gasp, and felt his own muscles go tight, his body arching beneath her. She dropped her hands, grasped his legs, and ground herself against him, shuddering at the feeling of being filled as deeply as possible. At her abrupt motion Kincaid jerked and let out a cry, his fingers digging into her skin. They both briefly went loose just long enough to suck in a shaky breath each; when she felt his grasp on her hips change, no longer desperate for the first sweet penetration, but now ready to continue, to accomplish what both their bodies trembled for, Rosedale shifted her own grip, pulled herself forward slowly, and then pushed herself back upon him, and Kincaid pressed himself up into her, and within seconds they were moving in unison, Rosedale panting and rocking slowly but steadily, Kincaid's breath heavy as he tightened and loosened, tightened and loosened, thrusting up into her. Now that he held her against him, his fingers splayed against her groin, Rosedale sat up straight, placing her hands over his and letting her head fall back again. She gave a soft whimper, grasped his hands, drew them up further; when Kincaid clutched her swollen belly and tensed with a short, strained grunt, Rosedale let out a sharp cry, dropping her hands again to grab his thighs, shaking wildly with pleasure. She hadn't known that this would, that this could, feel so good, especially after being with Reichert, who compared to her ex-husband had been magnificent. Despite the embarrassment of the next day, that had been the best her body had ever felt. She couldn't believe how good it felt now. She wondered why he had chosen her for this moment, when surely there were much more attractive women on and off the force, women without any baggage attached. She didn't understand why he groaned and ran his hands over the swell of her belly as if the child were his, why he was so hot inside her, why it seemed that even now he must be restraining himself, and she herself, their physical need was so great, so desperate for release.
She lowered her head and tried to concentrate on the slickness impaling her again, again, again. She was dimly aware that this was better, easier, more pleasurable than if she'd been facing him, though she wasn't certain why. It didn't matter. When she started shaking he drew his legs up slightly so she grasped his knees as if to hold herself in place; the sensations coursing through her body were such that she felt she would physically fly off him if not careful. She leaned forward, the motion tilting her pelvis such that his hardness pressed more closely against her sensitive spot, and with her belly resting against his thighs, slipped her hands under to fondle him, clasping his testicles in her palm, hoping that the way he shook beneath her proved that he enjoyed this as much as she did. He ran his hands up and down her back and Rosedale literally felt her spine tingle as the rough skin grazed her and made her skin prickle. The throb between her legs had flared into a sharp flame and she knew she would come soon, far sooner than she would have liked to--she held out longer with Reichert, but she hadn't been eight months pregnant when he'd been in her--at last a rational thought flitted into the back of her brain, that of hoping he wouldn't hold her lack of endurance against her--she was fully willing, hopeful even, of accepting him inside her again when they'd both recovered--they had the whole night before them, if need be--
Rosedale yelped and spasmed, her fingers digging into his legs--she was certain that was it, she was done, when Kincaid shifted his hips to pull back from her, just for a second. Rosedale's breath came out in a startled whoosh when she sank back, feeling his skin meet hers again. What had that been--? It was as if she'd stepped off a cliff, only to be pulled back up at the last second. She held on when she felt Kincaid move beneath her, shifting his position and struggling to sit somewhat upright; she opened her mouth, not knowing if she would ask him what he was doing, or what he wanted--Anything, her mind said, whatever he wants I'll give him anything--but his arms embracing her from behind stilled the words in her throat, and then the fingers of one hand played gently over her swollen breast, the other hand running over the mound of her belly, and a long moan, growing steadily higher, worked its way from her throat. Kincaid's embrace--powerful, but surprisingly tender--pressed her to him, and when she heard his breath rasping at her neck, felt his lips meet her nape, she ground her teeth and her whole body clenched; almost instinctively she worked herself up and down, up and down, sharp and quick movements, shuddering at his slickness and heat, praying she wouldn't have to wait so long for the next time.
Inside, underneath Kincaid's splayed hand, she felt a kick.
Rosedale yelled, her cry bouncing off the walls and echoing in the corners; Kincaid's fingers dug into her breast hard enough to hurt but she barely noticed as the flood of his seed seared up inside her. Her cry broke off into dry sobs as she spasmed around him, clenching as if to milk out every last drop; then the wave broke, she felt her muscles go loose, and with an exhausted moan sank back, her damp hair trailing in her face. As she gasped to catch her breath, she dimly felt Kincaid pull out, and the slipperiness she felt upon both him and herself made her shudder again. The baby gave another small kick, as if in protest, before falling still. Rosedale's head dropped and she felt she would have sunk into the bed never to get up again had not the lieutenant's arms still been around her, holding her up. They were done, the act completed, the two of them separated from each other, yet she was still in his embrace; she didn't question it, but exhaustedly welcomed it when he pressed himself against her back, his lips grazing her ear, his hands holding the heavy swell of her belly. She didn't know how long they sat like that. She only knew somehow that he would have held her as long as she wanted, if only she were to ask, though she was in no state of mind to do so.
She turned her head slightly, panting softly as the sweat cooled on their skin, which was still hot and damp where their bodies met. His kiss moved to her cheek, his breath fanning her face, and she shivered, slipping one of her hands over his.
"Thank you," she whispered, though she wasn't sure why or for what. He didn't ask. She let herself relax against him, not caring whether they fell asleep, whether they made love again, all of it was good to her now.
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This item is not looking for critique. It was written solely for entertainment's sake. Although a scene from a possibly longer story, it is complete in itself and unless otherwise stated there is not going to be any more of it written. Additional unrelated SCENES may be written, but single scenes themselves are complete as they are. So please do not expect more. If you are interested in reading the series which INSPIRED the scene, just look elsewhere in my portfolio and you should find something. (Use the "story codes" given in the scene headers. For example, "MI" = "Manitou Island" series.)
I am not looking for critique on grammar, spelling, style, sentence structure, flow, or the mechanics of writing. What I AM interested in is commentary on such things as characterization, plot, symbolism, theme, etc.--the deeper aspects of the story. I like to know if a scene is believable, if the characters are interesting, what you thought of how they interacted, if the writing evoked any emotions, things such as that.
Feel free to criticize, but just keep in mind that I'm working on more important projects and shared this just for fun and/or to illustrate character interactions, so I don't plan to revise it any time soon. Comments on the characters, theme, etc. are more than welcome. 
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© Copyright 2011 Tehuti, Lord Of The Eight (tehuti_88 at Writing.Com).
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