DISCLAIMER: Los Hombres De Paco and its characters are the property of Antena 3. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
"Silvia," Pepa whispers, nuzzling her hair. There is reluctance in her voice. "Get up, Princesa. We can't stay in here all night."
They're curled together in the shower of Silvia's sister's bathroom, under a light spray. They've just had mindblowing sex, and Silvia has just come harder than she ever has in her life, and she just doesn't want to move.
She cracks an eye open, and Pepa is looking at her with such tenderness that Silvia forgets to breathe.
Instead, she reaches up a hand and reverently traces Pepa's cheek. Pepa smiles that beautiful smile again, and Silvia leans in for a kiss. I want to do this for the rest of my life, she thinks.
But the water is getting cold, so they get up, smiling, not talking. Silvia steps out first while Pepa shuts the water off and uses her foot to slide the bath mat over the (now large) puddle of water next to the tub. Silvia can't help snorting in laughter, and Pepa's smile is pure mischief this time.
Pepa goes for a towel, but Silvia is there first, smirking and holding it out of Pepa's reach. Pepa looks at her, quizzically and with a challenge dawning in her eyes, and Silvia relents. The cloth releases its folds under her hands, and then she's toweling Pepa off, rubbing the soft fabric over Pepa's softer skin. Pepa sucks in a deep breath. Silvia dries her shoulders, her arms, her breasts. Pepa's breathing gets unsteady when Silvia reaches her hips, and she gasps softly when Silvia drops to her knees, rubs the towel over her ankles, her calves. Silvia presses a kiss to the side of Pepa's knee, feels a tremor run through Pepa's entire body. Pepa's right hand drifts down, tangles itself in Silvia's damp hair. Her left drifts to the sink for support as she leans slightly against it.
Pepa is panting, and Silvia feels like the most powerful woman on the earth.
The towel slides up Pepa's knee, and Silvia watches it as if from afar, with fascination. She has never done this before, never been so wantonly sensual.
Pepa's muscles tighten when the towel hits the middle of her thigh. Her abdominal muscles flex. She gasps harshly, and almost falls over onto Silvia when Silvia slings the towel around her hips and pulls her a step closer.
This close, Silvia can feel the heat of Pepa's core. She can smell Pepa. She drops the towel, uses each hand to trace the defined valley where Pepa's stomach narrows.
"Pepa," Her voice is a solemn whisper, and Pepa looks down, trying to blink through the haze. Silvia looks up, lets a wicked grin cross her face.
"You're all wet."
Pepa whimpers, and spreads her legs ever-so-slightly, and that's all Silvia needs. She's never done this before (but she's Googled it, and after recovering from the blush, had studied with even greater concentration than she had when she'd made top marks at university). Based on the noises Pepa is making, though, and the way she's tugging on Silvia's hair and the way her hips are jerking and the way she's got this half-whine trapped in the back of her throat and it just won't stop, Silvia's not doing too bad. Pretty damn well, actually.
Pepa tastes fantastic.
Pepa's hips start to move faster, and Silvia grabs hold of Pepa's hips, bracing her lover. She dares to let a little bit of teeth graze Pepa's clit, and Pepa comes, a guttural groan ripping through her. Pepa's arm gives out, for the second time this evening Silvia comes close to being squished, and the best Silvia can do is slow Pepa's descent, half-lower her lover to the ground as Pepa's body continues to shake.
Pepa might be sore when she sits for a few days, Silvia thinks, and stifles a hysterical laugh.
The tremors eventually cease, and Pepa is left splayed out on the cold tile. Her breathing is harsh, color high on her cheeks. She is unbearably beautiful. Silvia is paralyzed by her beauty. Pepa forces her eyes open, and Silvia's heart squeezes at the vulnerability she sees. Pepa half-reaches out, and Silvia is there quickly, blanketing her, holding her. Pepa's arms crush Silvia to her and she buries her face in Silvia's shoulder, inhales deeply.
They lie there for a few minutes, but they're still damp from the shower and starting to shiver. So they reluctantly stand again, and Silvia gathers their clothes into a messy pile. When she turns around, Pepa has picked the towel up from the floor and wrapped it around herself. But it's soaked and she's still shivering, and Silvia makes a move toward her, wanting to warm her lover up.
Pepa backs up a step, shakes her head at her. "Nuh-uh, Princesa," and there is laughter in her tone. She waggles a finger at Silvia, and Silvia makes a show of making a face at her and wrapping a fresh towel around herself. Pepa picks up whatever they had caused to fall earlier, Silvia tucks the bundle of clothing under her arm (damn, she's going to have to wear her same dress to work tomorrow), and Pepa eases the door open, pokes her head out. After a moment, she opens the door more fully, slips out. Pepa nods at Silvia, and Silvia brushes by her, pausing as Pepa gently eases the door closed without a sound.
The walk to Pepa's "bedroom" is charged. Silvia feels sensitized, like every hair on her body is standing on end. The house is dead silent and almost pitch black; their breathing is loud in Silvia's ears, and it's a miracle they don't trip over anything. It's terrifying. It's invigorating. It's the first time Silvia's broken so many rules. It's erotic.
She feels a sudden rush between her legs.
She can't help herself, steps closer to Pepa. Their thighs brush. In the dark, Pepa's hand runs down Silvia's arm to her hip, and Silvia's next breath is a little raspy. She can almost hear Pepa's satisfied 'Payback is a bitch.'
Pepa turns her on in a very embarrassing way.
They finally reach Pepa's room, and Pepa silently opens the door, letting Silvia enter before she walks through and eases the door closed. Silvia, groping, manages to turn on the low-level bedside lamp and flick it on. She turns away for a moment to lay her dress over the desk chair.
When she looks back, her breath leaves her in a whoosh. Pepa has draped her towel on the doorknob. Her back is to Silvia, and the shadows playing across her back are incredible. She stretches, like a cat, and Silvia feels her mouth water.
"Pepa," her voice is much lower and rougher than she intends, and Pepa turns around slowly. There is seduction in her eyes.
"Yes?" Pepa draws it out as she steps closer. Silvia suddenly feels stalked, feels like prey. It's a little intimidating.
It gets her even wetter.
Pepa turns off the light, and Silvia stifles a moan.
"Do you have a problem, Pelirroja?" In the darkness, Pepa is crawling over her, that lovely back sinuous and smooth under her hands. Silvia threads a hand through Pepa's hair, uses the other to palm a breast.
"Just a little something ." Whatever she was going to say is lost when Pepa runs a teasing finger through Silvia's wetness. She gasps, and bucks, and Pepa chuckles lowly, nips at Silvia's throat.
Then Pepa drops the act and makes love in earnest. For all that she'd been pure sex a moment ago, somehow it's better this way, so much better. Her brow is furrowed in concentration as she moves her hand gently, and Silvia's fisting the bedsheets, and when she comes she has to muffle her cry in a pillow.
She's shaking. She feels more open than she ever has in her life. She almost wants to cry.
Pepa, somehow sensing what she needs, is there, cradling her in strong arms and rubbing her back in soothing circles. Silvia holds onto Pepa for dear life, never mind that Pepa has rocked the foundations of hers. Finally, she stops, and though Pepa's hold loosens, she does not let go. They fall asleep twined together.
In the morning, she will awaken before Pepa, will slip away to take a shower. She will walk back in to find Pepa lazing in bed, watching her with hooded eyes, and she will stutter and stumble and make a fool of herself. She will throw her dress on, her hands will be shaking, and she will need Pepa to do the buttons. The feel of Pepa's hands near her skin will cause her almost to stop breathing. She will back out of the room like Pepa's on fire, turn her back on Pepa's bemused expression, and almost drop the jam as she gazes dreamily into Pepa's eyes across the breakfast table.
But for tonight, Silvia forgets all that should make this wrong. Though she does not remember her dreams, she does know that they were some of the happiest she's ever had.
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