#losing your hair doth not equal becoming a Bloke | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ansgar-martinsson · 4 years

Text

The Best Intentions - Part 26

Heat. White heat. The heat circled and swirled and balled up like an ouroboros of flame, it’s head eating its tail as it curled and whirled, fighting against itself, struggling against itself to win its own freedom. Ansgar, the head - what was left of his mind, desired the pleasure to last as long as it could; his body, the tail, demanded instant release.

Ultimately, the tail tore itself from the fangs, and the fiery snake whipped free, burst forth from its tight coil. It writhed and slithered, biting and tearing and ripping through cock and balls and down through flesh and muscle and back up through bone and sinew and heart and guts and light-blinded eyes and mouth and brain. The intoxicating, sybaritic venom, milked forth in the grip of Joline’s own orgasm, pumped like hot wine through his veins.

There had been nothing like it, nothing, for years. No climax like this one. No one like Joline. No fulfillment, no euphoria, no rapture brought by casual encounters even came close to it, to her. Ansgar Martinsson, for those precious few seconds, became mindless and soulless, his entire being ripped out, erased and replaced with a creature of pure white light. All control of his flesh was lost - pulled tight, tight as it would go, his muscles bulged, joints locked, fingers clawed, and veins popped, and his face contorted upon a long, drop-jawed, crackling roar.

And then, as quickly as it came upon him, it was gone.

“Oh,” he breathed at last. “Oh… fucking hell.”

“That good, huh?”

He heard, rather than saw Joline’s wide smile. He still had not opened his clenched shut eyes, still had not lifted his head from her shoulder, still had not unwound himself from the almost preternatural arch he made over her body. He did so slowly, one muscle at a time in a desperate measure to hold on to the euphoric sensation for as long as humanly possible. He smiled in return, letting his flesh melt down, down, down over hers, letting his weight settle upon her. “That good,” he replied. “Oh, so very good.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.”

He felt her chest patter beneath his in her laughter, felt her fingers draw a gentle long line up his back, the rope trailing behind. Coming fully to himself then, he lifted his head, pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and rolled off of her, his breath hitching in tandem with hers as he uncoupled himself from her below, as the cool air coursed over his wet, still-heated cock.

“Christ, Joline,” he murmured, throwing his arm over his eyes as he still worked to catch his breath. “Are you okay?” He looked over at her and rolled up to rest on his elbow. He took her hand in his, wriggling the rope from around her wrist. He soothed her skin with his lips, a gentle, thankful cascade of kisses. “This doesn’t hurt, does it? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Joline murmured, still breathless herself. “I’ve told you before. I’m a big girl. I can take it. I can take it, and I enjoy it. Don’t worry about me so much. I’m not so delicate. I’ll tell you if you do something I don’t like.”

Ansgar chuckled. “Fair enough.” He shifted again and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her to rest on her side, face to face with him on the bed. He stared at her, studying her for a long moment, his fingers brushing idly up and down the curve of her body from breast to hip and back again. She seemed to examine him as well, her own eyes fixed upon his, her own hand exploring the planes of his stomach, his thigh, up to his sharp cheekbones, and in his mass of curly hair.

Finally, it was Joline who spoke.

“Did you mean that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Did I mean what?”

“What you said.”

He chuckled. “I said a lot of things, darling. What in particular?”

She cleared her throat and swallowed, stilling her fingers against his scalp. “Mine,” she echoed. “You said… ‘mine’. Did you…. did you mean that?”

Ansgar took a long, deep inhale through his nose, and he gripped her hard, his hand curled tightly around her biceps. “I always mean what I say during sex, Joline. I don’t lie.”

Joline stiffened, pulled back, and shot him an incredulous look. “Oh. Really,” she drolled.

“Well, okay,” he rolled his eyes, “You know full well that I may be apt to tell some untruths in the moments leading up to it, or the hours before, but not during the act of it itself.” He smiled. “I cannot, forsooth. For such concupiscence doth bind my silver tongue,” he camped, his accent plummy and comical. Mouth opened wide, he flicked said tongue from side to side in a vulgar demonstration.

“Come on! I’m serious, you shit,” she slapped his arse. “I want to know. Did you mean what you said?”

“Yes,” he declared quickly, soberly, his features stilling into seriousness. “I meant it, Joline. And know this,” he paused, drawing his fingers down the angle of her cheek. “I haven’t lied to you about anything, and that’s a first for me. Everything I’ve told you has been the God’s honest truth. Frankly, as much as it goes beyond the pale for me, I don’t ever intend to lie to you. So you can take what I say and know that I mean every word.”

She covered his hand with hers, stilling him. “Okay. So,” she said slowly, “when you said ‘mine’ you mean that you consider me… yours?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Do you consider yourself as such?”

“What? Yours?”

“Yes. Mine.”

“I said so, didn’t I?” she queried. “I told you to… take what’s yours.”

“You sure as hell did say that,” Ansgar rumbled, clutching her tighter. “And damn. It was such a turn on for me. Made me lose my fucking mind.”

“It was more just than a turn on, Ansgar. I meant it.”

He smiled. “I know. I know you did. And that’s exactly what made it so… enticing.”

She cocked her head inquisitively, narrowing her eyes. “Does that make you… mine, then? Is the converse true?”

“Are you asking me… if I can be faithful to you?”

“I…,” her gaze dipped away for a moment in thought, and then flicked back to him. “Maybe. Yes. I suppose I am asking that.”

“I will be, if you want it of me,” he said, shifting even closer to her. He wrapped his leg around hers, his arm around her back, pulling her tightly into him. “I know I’m a terrible flirt and sort of a cad, and I’ve been bit of a whore. I know you know that about me, I’ve told you as much, but, if there’s one thing the past few years and all I’ve gone through have taught me about myself is that… is that….”

She lifted her head, peering up at him. “What… what did you learn?”

“I am faithful to those I care for. I’m actually, all appearances aside, rather steadfast and loyal.”

She smiled, pressing her palm to his chest, just over his heart. “No, I do see that about you,” she said. “I’ve seen that from the beginning.”

“I wasn’t like that before,” he cautioned. “Quite the opposite. I hurt a lot of people.”

“Well, as I said, I didn’t know you before.”

“And as I said, I’m glad of it.”

“So,” she toyed with the small hairs on his chest, raising gooseflesh where she pulled playfully upon one. “So you… you won’t fuck anyone else but me, then?”

He laughed. “For a woman who says she’s a big girl, you’re sounding awfully insecure right now.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she acquiesced. She rose up on one elbow, and he matched her pose. “But what if,” she grinned, her eyes sparkling with mirth and mischief, “what if say, Rosie were to propose a threesome?”

Ansgar’s nostrils flared and his eyes shot wide over instantly dilated pupils. He gasped, his hand clutching involuntarily at his twitching cock. He moaned wantonly. “Jesus, Joline! Don’t fucking say things like that!”

“Oh?” she batted her eyes. “Like what?”

“Like… like… threesome,” his voice cracked like a teenage boy over the word, “especially the proposition of one involving a particularly hot, blonde lesbian friend of mine. You don’t understand what images just flew through my mind, what thoughts are turning my brain to mush right at this moment. You can’t do that to a bloke. You’ll ruin him utterly.”

“No, we can’t have that,” she chuckled, leaning forward to press her lips to the tip of nose. “Can’t ruin my man.”

“Your man, indeed.” He lifted his chin, smiling as he captured her lips in the snare of his.

“Mine.”

She tasted the word in her mouth, along her lips, in her cheeks, and discovered that she quite liked it. She never considered herself possessive, she hadn’t been before. The sensual and divine pleasures Ansgar made her feel while they were in bed… the mere thought of another woman experiencing it, and as much as she cared for woman’s equality, Joline thought she might scratch a sister’s eyes out for touching her man.

What had become of her? Only days ago she didn’t understand violence. However after two nights in Ansgar’s bed, she was ready for the World Wrestling Federation to defend her place as his. Selfishly, she clung to him while she had him.

“You know,” she spoke slowly, dragging out her thought as her fingers combed down his chest. “I’ve never been in a threesome.”

“Is that so?” He grinned as the naked woman swung her leg over him to straddle his happy trail, between stomach and cock. “Have you considered it?”

“I just did.” Her hands fanned outward as she made another sweep upwards. “But here’s the thing, as much as I like Rose and I do, if she experienced an Ansgar orgasm, I might gouge her eyes out.”

He chuckled long and low, his fingers creeping along her muscular thighs within his reach, chasing the colors of Stockholm reflected on her flesh from the city ten floors below. “As much as I might fancy a cat fight between two gorgeous women over me, Rose would prefer you over me during sex. That just wouldn’t do.”

“For you or for your ego?”

“In this case, they are one and the same.”

Joline walked her fingers up his chest again, folding at the waist to bend over him. “You would be the star then, do you think?” Her left eyebrow hooked skyward, her eyes flashing dubiously.

“I would insist upon it.” His fists clutched into the pliant flesh of her ass.

“Yeah, you would,” she tsked, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shaking her head in disapproval. And yet, her hands, those soft calloused greedy hands surveyed her territory. Newly declared as hers, and she made good on that bit of business. Her head tilted as she considered her segue in their conversation. “Have you ever been with a man?” she grinned through the mischievous bit of her lower lip, her eyes twinkled in the city lights.

In the blink of an eye, a fan of limbs, and the flip of sheets, Ansgar pinned her beneath him, hips first. His smile turned almost maniacal, reading her like yesterday’s headlines. “Why? Have you been with another woman?”

She nodded. “But only once. Winters are cold in Chicago,” she offered up as way of explanation.

Ansgar’s sometimes young boy charm and glee displayed on his face in utter enchantment. Men were so easy about these things, and she was pleased that he fulfilled at least one of her expectations. “Tell m—“ his voice cracked like a boy in the midst of puberty. He cleared his throat and demanded again. “Tell me everything.”

“There’s not much to tell really,” she shrugged against the mattress. “She was called Heather, a cute nerdy type musician girl with magnificent lips and a strange fascination with John Leguizamo.”

He laughed at that, harder than he thought he should, but he couldn’t help it. The bit of information wasn’t anything he could’ve anticipated. “That’s… that’s one name I never thought could come to my bed.”

Joline flirted, fluttering her eyes and one by one, wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands climbed from his hips into his curls. “You’re not in bed with just any woman.”

Ansgar leaned into her touch like a cat to its owner’s leg, a sign of marking, a sign of appreciation, a sign of affection. “I am well aware,” he admitted soberly, rocking his groin to her center. In a hoarse whisper, he insisted upon knowing more. “Go on, tell me about Heather.”

Joline crossed her arms behind his neck, fishing for more of him, reeling him bit by bit. “It was after my divorce, before my father passed. Too many margueritas, not enough violin music. It was one night, a snow storm and two women looking for a bit of fun.”

“What did she feel like? Taste like?” Ansgar craved details, who made the first move, what they did, he wanted… and all at once, it didn’t matter. The only details that mattered were Joline.

He wanted Joline and Joline he would have.

Face first, he dropped into her neck, kissing, tasting, licking.

She moaned, encouraging his sensual exploration.

“Did you come?” he asked into her hair, prepared to wipe her memory of that encounter and replace it with another. “Did you come for Heather?”

“I did.”

Ansgar made good on making her forget any man or woman who came before him.

*~*~*~*~*~

Joline remembered watching a cruise ship float through the harbor at a leisurely knot. Ansgar was already asleep beside here, she on the precipice of sleep herself, watching the ship on the water, listening to her lover’s steady breathing and the feel of oh-so-soft sheets against her bruised yet incredibly loved skin. All of it made for the perfect lullaby, the ideal calm for sleep.

She woke gradually, her body slow to rise. She opened them to find the ship had long past, but the sun was still far from rising. The dark closed in around her, comforting, welcome, gently pushing her towards sleep again. As her eyes drooped closed again, she blocked out the world outside. It was in that moment that she felt him… maybe heard him, first. Ansgar reached for her, across the gulf of mattress between them.

No words were spoken, only the soft whisper of skin to skin. The pillows of his fingers followed the line of her spine to the dogwood branch at the small of her back. His hand expanded, filling his palm with her flesh. She waited with baited breath for his direction, another bid for her to stretch her limits of trust. One didn’t come, instead he pulled her into the circle of his arms and held her.

Ansgar outlined her silhouette with his, his front along her back. He buried his nose in her hair, smelling nothing but her fragranced shampoo, some herbal mix that he could become addicted to. His fingers stilled along her stomach, just to feel her breath, to feel her life force beneath them. She pressed her arms in against his, willingly sinking into his embrace.

The unhurried pace of kisses along her neck only encouraged to unfurl some, to let him in. His kisses and endearments traced the delicate line of her neck to shoulder, stopping at random to inhale her scent. He was the same Ansgar, she knew the scratch of his beard, the press and massage of his lips, but there was more. The question of what that more was hung above her just beyond her grasp.

The cup of his hand pressed in around her breast, and she sighed into it. He molded her soft flesh in his palm, tenderly kneading and provoking her nipple to a peak. Joline, in that moment, felt the warmth flood through her center, an eager ripple of anticipation made her shiver in arousal. She pressed back against her man, silently giving all of herself to him.

Ansgar knew the moment that she gave in to it, he felt it in her body. Her shield, that bit of her that she poised between them clattered to the floor. When she did, when her defensive wall crumbled, his flesh stiffened and firmed against her rear. He rocked his erection against her, he understood. Even in the dark with his eyes closed, with her back to him, he could read her.

His breath hot, rhythmic and oh-so-sexy against her ear.

His hand caressed her breast. He felt her pulse quicken with the beat of her heart. He did that to her, he influenced a vital part of her, and Christ- it was the sexiest part of her. How responsive she was to him.

His other slid down between her legs to her sex. Two fingertips slithered in on her welcoming tide. He was in no hurry to make her come, his seduction held something deeper than pleasure.

The hand between her legs eased them apart, just enough for him to guide his cock into her core.

She sighed with him seated within her.

He moaned as her body swallowed him, took him in, and held him there.

His cock deep and thick inside her, one hand circled her pleasure point, his other massaged her breast, and she couldn’t make a sound. This was vitally different than any of the other sexual exploits. This was personal. He didn’t fuck her this time, he made love to her.

She had no defense against erotic, sensual loving. She couldn’t disconnect from the act, it was too sweet. Joline scrambled to find her resolve not to let him close, but when he moved slowly, tenderly stroking her from the inside, she feared that she may have been too late.

#the best intentions

2 notes · View notes