The Adult Denby Fanfic Site

Simplicity

AUTHOR: Amanda J Frechin.
DISCLAIMER: The usual. I don't own the characters, but I own Amanda (sound familiar?) Dez, and Kelli.
FEEDBACK: To Amanda J Frechin

Diane kisses him on the nose and walks into the living quarters. Denby follows.

"Harry, would you like something to drink?"

"I'd like a whole glass of you, baby."

His eyes narrowed down to her chest, and he had a boyishlike grin on his face. Diane wants to backside his head, but doesn't, waiting to see what his smart-ass comment is going to be.

"Denby, see, when you try to be funny, you're not funny. But, then again, that's one of the reasons why I love you."

She pinches his cheek with a little grin on her face. Harry grabs her hand and pulls her close to him. You could feel the body heat radiating from them, their bodies pressed close together. They look at each other, and he kisses her cheek, painfully slowly. He moves down, placing butterfly kisses along the way, to her mouth, where he gives her a sensual kiss.

"Diane, when you're aroused, your face get's flushed."

"Gosh Harry, you know how to kill the moment."

"If I say 'I love you,' that will make you happy, won't it? But, if I use it to much, for an example "I killed the cat, but I love you," it would have much less of a positive effect. I can't use it too much; it will become more tedious."

Harry takes her into an intimate position, holding her delicately, as if they were dancing, with her hands held in his. Directing her hands to fill his in the most sweet way, he looks assured and situates his head onto her shoulder. He whispers to her, and Diane identified what he was singing to her.

"...when I need you, in the night when I feel blue, and that is why whenever I want you all I have to do is dream. Dream, dream, dream, dream, dream...."

He kisses her neck, tongue sliding up and back down again, leaving her skin cool, and then brushed his lips over the flesh. She sighs, dragging him closer, enfolding him in her arms.

"Honey, you don't have to dream anymore."

He picks her up in his arms, walks into the room, carrying her over the threshold like a new groom. He lays her on the bearskin rug that was before laid the fireplace. Diane unbuttons his shirt, while he is concentrating on removing her nightgown. Mouths pressed together, they struggled with the clothing, not wanting to break the contact. Her hands stroked his hair, now in a tumbled disarray. Somehow, in the heat of their miasma, Denby's boxers were ripped off and thrown into the fire. Diane giggled, her head lolling to the right and then to the left.

"It's waving again."

Grinning, Denby kissed her again, softly, as if she was going to shatter.

"I've been wanting you since....forever, darling."

He thrust into her, her back arching with each thrust, her hands turned to talons and she clawed his back. Diane reached out to him, his body, Harry leans into her, hissing, his voice becoming horse and he grunts, gone from the realm of human communication. Diane reacts, flipping him to the side, then to the other, holding him closer and closer, tighter and he's thrusting, the whole room and rug becoming one hazy cloud. Moaning, they merged, closer, and closer, tighter, tighter....the room was shaking, contracting around them, and they swam in it, loving it. While nearing orgasm, Diane screamed at him, faster, please! He new how to touch her, oh... He knew exactly how to love her...and she loved him back.

Harry sobbed into her hair, gasping and shaking. He exploded into her, writhing and pulsing hard. Diane finally achieved and moaned, strikingly loud, and the rocked together, not giving a damn if anyone could hear them. Almost crying out, almost screaming from the sensation of bodies swimming in static. Panting, he held her head in his hands, his shoulders covering hers, his breath in her face, his eyes stabbing into hers. He smiled then, licked his lips, chuckled a bit, and leaned his head on her chest, kissing the top of her breast.

"I'm not too heavy, am I love?"

"No."

Diane was so shaky, trembling so damn hard. It was hard for her to talk, and it came out choked. Harry heard it and put his hand up in her hair, stroking there. She sighed, quaveringly. Harry drifted off, his body became limp on hers, his breathing more steady. She clasped her arms around him. She felt severed, still, from the room, not there at all, still floating on a swirling cloud with Harry. Had reality ever felt so distant in her life? She doubted it. No man had done this to her, but a sickening feeling of dread hit her dead in the stomach. Was that old saying, 'if it's too good to be true, then it usually is?' correct. She discontinued that thought. He had shown, numerous times, that he was human and he fucked things up constantly. But she loved him for admitting that, loved him for actually coming to revel in that. He was human.

Another knock, a damned annoying one at this juncture, sounded at the door. Harry groaned. All right, maybe he hadn't been asleep like she had thought.

Continued in Part 21.