Fire: Chapter Ten

AFTERGLOW

Michael and Shannon lay in each other's arms, their hearts pounding, Shannon's chestnut hair strewn over Michael's chest, as he gently stroked it back and off her face. She nuzzled into his neck as he let out a deep sigh and wrapped his arms around her. She could feel his heart beating, hard and fast at first, then slowing, becoming steady, strong and regular. He smelled of sex; musky and comfortingly male. The warmth of his arms felt like home.

They stayed like this for a long time. Shannon thought she fell asleep, but wasn't quite sure; but she must have done, because when she roused herself, the fire had died down to glowing embers and Michael was fast asleep.

Shannon raised herself on one elbow and looked at him. He looked like an angel: his lovely face serene, almost childlike in sleep; his soft brown
hair tousled, curling a little at the edges. His eyelashes were long and dark against his pale cheek. She watched his deep, even breathing, studying every detail, resisting the urge to touch. "I love you, Michael," she whispered.

To her astonishment, he opened his eyes, grinned, and said, mischievously, "I know. Umm...I don't suppose you've got any cigs?"

Shannon smirked back at him and got up, reluctantly. "Of course. I'll be right back." She put the kettle on for tea. After his ordeal, Michael would
be dehydrated, and somehow she had forgotten to get him to drink anything. Must have been otherwise occupied, she smiled to herself as she rummaged for her smokes.

Michael sat up gingerly, raking his fingers through his hair. "I've given up, actually... but I just have to have one now..." he said, sheepishly.

Shannon grinned as she offered him a large mug of tea and one of her Camels.

"Wow...upscale or what?!" Michael laughed.

"I have excellent taste in men and cigarettes," Shannon replied. "A by-product of my travels, I guess...." she trailed off, aware that, as usual, she was talking too much.

Michael didn't seem to mind, or even notice. "Ah, a gypsy at heart, like me..." he mused. "I've always had a hankering to travel - not in the normal way, you know, package tours and stuff - but the 'road less travelled' - I guess that's a bit of a cliche, isn't it? Well, you know what I mean though, right? Off the beaten track, like, I don't know, Africa....or China - of course, I've never really made it past the Watford Gap..." He took a deep drag of his cigarette and carried right on talking.

They talked and laughed about everything, anything - travel, literature, history, England - for what seemed like hours. Michael was so easy to talk to, and Shannon found herself basking in the joy of finally finding someone with whom she could have a real conversation - no awkwardness, no stilted grasping for something to say - their chatter flowed like a river, natural and alive. They laughed at the same things. Shannon was almost as adept at pulling faces and putting on daft accents as Michael was. They giggled like schoolchildren at the silliness of humanity. It felt as though they had known each other for years.

Eventually they figured they ought to get washed and dressed, and so, with a fit of laughter, they squeezed into Shannon's shower. Michael insisted on washing Shannon's hair, and then proceeded to stand behind her, soaping her all over with the shampoo lather.

"Mmmm....oh, Mike that feels good...." Shannon murmured.

"You feel good..." he whispered in her ear, as he nibbled her earlobe. His hands roved over her lean, slender body, to her small pert breasts, massaging the warm lather into her nipples, stroking down over her stomach, then between her legs, where she was already soaking wet, and not because of the shower.

"Oh, God Mike," she moaned. She could feel him hardening against her slick, wet buttocks. There was only one thing to do.

Shannon turned around and knelt in front of him, taking his hard manhood in her hands. He closed his eyes and let out a deep, shuddering sigh. "Oh...oh God, Shannon...where have you been all my life?"

Suppressing a giggle, she murmured "Sssh...this one's on me..."

She heard him mutter "It'll be all over you in a minute if you're not careful..." as she took his shaft into her mouth, taking it down as deep as she could manage, then withdrawing to the head and lapping with her tongue, teasing and grazing with her teeth, then sucking his entire length down again, relishing the sweet, clean taste of him along with the sound of his low moans of pleasure.

Understanding that he was more than ready, Shannon employed her skills shamelessly. She was a liberated woman, and although she appeared shy at first meeting, when it came to the bedroom she was true to her sensual, uninhibited Scorpio nature. If Michael hadn't realized this already, he was learning it now. Groaning with abandon, he grasped a handful of her hair and hung on to it for dear life. "Ohhhhh....oh yeah...sweet
christ...i...i...can't....i'm going to....ohhhhhhhh!"

Shannon kept up her steady rhythm as he came hard and fast into her mouth, and she swallowed down his hot, salty delicious come, then looked up at him, licking her lips, a sultry smile on her face. She got to her feet as his knees crumpled, and gathered him into her arms, holding his head against her belly, as he gasped for breath, his heart pounding hard against her aching centre.

"Oh....God...woman you are a vixen," Michael panted, holding onto her for dear life. Shannon just smiled, and stroked his wet hair. They belonged to each other, no matter what happened, and even if she never saw him again, she would always have this moment, of complete and utter love.

After they towelled each other off, Shannon brought Michael's underclothes, which were now dry, and they had a mutual giggling fit at the state of them. "Yup, real classy threads," Michael remarked. "The BBC wardrobe department at it's best!"

Shannon decided that Michael could probably fit into one of her oversized rugby shirts, since he wasn't very big. That, together with a pair of khaki shorts that she'd inherited from her brother, and a pair of her own woollen hiking socks, proved an adequate substitute. "Ah yes, the
picture of sartorial elegance," declared Michael as he regarded himself in Shannon's bedroom mirror.

Shannon giggled. "You look wonderful, honey!"

Michael whirled around and grabbed her, planting a kiss, then gripping her tighter as she mock-struggled. Finally when it was clear he wasn't about to let her go, she stopped wriggling and let him kiss her. Shannon draped her arms around his neck and raked her fingers through his silky, freshly-washed hair as their kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, yet with that added edge of tenderness that comes after sexual contentment and satisfaction.

After a while, Michael pulled away and gazed into Shannon's eyes. He smiled that schoolboy smile of his and then his face became serious. "Stay with me." he said.

Shannon knew what he meant, without even having to think about it. "Of course." she replied, looking into his honest, clear brown eyes. She
reached up to stroke his hair, and he closed his eyes and sighed under her touch. He was her man, she was his girl, and they were in love.

It was at that moment that there came a sudden sharp, loud knocking at the thick oak door of the croft.