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Winterfall	By : ratedgdr Category: Pokemon > Het - Male/Female Views: 3068 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own Pokemon or any of the characters from it. I also am not making any money from writing this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 1-Winterfall
- 1
Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks. I also do not any of the songs mentioned.
OK, I have NO idea why I'm writing this. I have two stories I need to have as my top priority, and yet here I am, writing this. It's a sequel, more or less, to a story on fanfiction, a story which I may bring here for anyone interested.
Language and strong sexual content warning. Is there really even a true plot involved in this? I have no earthly idea:
He knows that he really should not ignore the insistent beeping of the alarm clock. He knows that he needs to wake up now. He knows that sooner or later, his Pikachu will get so sick of the noise that he will let loose a particularly nasty Thundershock.
So he hits the clock and goes back to sleep. Or tries to.

Ever since she told him that she does not plan to spend the holidays with her family, he has been feverishly at work setting his apartment to rights, trying to make it look more presentable than a bachelor pad should be. In desperation, he starts calling many of the Gym Leaders that he has come to know so well over the years. Initially, they are quite happy to help, but the constant calling finally causes some of them to crack.
"Ash," sighed Cynthia one night, trying to fend off Lance long enough to complete her call, "couldn't you ask your mother for help? I'm sure she'd be happy to give her son a hand."
"I did," was the reply. "She's as sick of me asking her advice as you are, but Goddamnit, I told Sabrina that she could spend Christmas with me and I DON'T want her to think I'm just another slovenly bachelor."
"Can you just tell him to call back?" he could hear the Johto Champion groan, frustrated lust in his voice.
So Ash, wanting to avoid having the wrath of Lance on his head and wanting to have sexual options with Cynthia open in the unlikely event that his own relationship with Sabrina goes sour and if Cynthia and Lance cannot let their egos co-exist, spends much of his free time at the library, trying to find anything that can help him entertain his guest. There are so many books, but none of them are designed for someone like him, and he winds up being shaken awake by librarians and other patrons because he has curled up on the floor or a comfortable chair and fallen asleep.

The word of how badly he has been handling the situation does not escape one person, and he now stands at the door to the building itself, bracing himself for the likely overwhelming heat that he will encounter inside. Pushing the door open, he walks up the next two flights of stairs before finally arriving at the number he has been given. He knocks, then waits.
Soon, the door opens, and standing in front of him is a face he remembers, a face that has not taken the past few years as well as one might have hoped: his face is covered in a black stubble, a dullness in his eyes from not only the stress of the season but the stress of being a veritable celebrity. A plain black T-shirt and worn jeans are all he can bring himself to wear.
"Well," he says, "this is a surprise."
The man being addressed is wearing a beige bomber jacket and tan carpenter pants, accompanied by brown boots that seem to go with the rest of the color scheme. His lavender hair goes almost the entire way down his neck, matching the color of his goatee. "I heard you needed help getting ready to host a special guest," he says, cultured accent shining through.
"Didn't know you talked with other Gym Leaders."
"Janine called me and told me to either show up or she'd kick your head in. You may have been a pest to Jess and I but seeing you get hurt is not something I'm interested in." He looks inside and sees a familiar yellow furball glaring at him, cheeks sparking. "Relax, Pikachu, my Rocket days are long behind me. I'm not in the mood for electroshock therapy anyway."
Sighing, the Pikachu's master and friend lets James in.

"I'm disappointed," he says, lifting the teacup to his lips as he begins to write a list. "The great Ash Ketchum has really let himself go. Please don't tell me you're going to show up at the door greeting Sabrina like that."
The younger man leans back in his chair, half-slumped. "Why should you care? You're not going to be here when she comes anyway."
James smiles. "You're right. I'm not. Jessie and I have our own little plans in mind. I'll be nice and spare you the details."
"I'm touched by your generosity."
"Enough about me. We're going to need to get this place pepped up. That way, when Sabrina walks in, she'll be so amazed by what YOU'VE done that she'll push you down on the couch and unwrap herself."
All Ash does is glare.
"Hey, I want no credit for this, all right? I will stop at nothing to help you make your apartment more festive, but you have my permission to lie and say that you did the work yourself." He picks up his list. "First off, we need a tree."
"They have nice artificial ones-"
"Ugh. THOSE bloody things? The city picks up discarded natural trees and chips them into mulch, so you have no need to worry about waste."
"But-"
"I, of course, will make sure you get a good one, because it will need to co-exist with all the lights and tinsel and ornaments we'll have."
"I didn't know you cosplayed as Martha Stewart."
James looks up. "Harsh."
There is a sigh, then, "Look, I appreciate the help-"
"I'm trying to keep the peace between you and everyone you know. That and I really think you and Sabrina deserve to enjoy the holidays together without having to stress out."
"Too late."
The visitor only smiles. "Not if I say it isn't."

Several hours later, he has to admit that he is impressed.
His unexpected visitor has not only secured a respectable tree, he has purchased all the lights and ornaments one could ask for where romantic company is involved. He has also happily set to cleaning out trash, polishing, dusting, vacuuming, and organizing everything that was left. Ash has been so surprised by all of this that he cannot stay uninvolved any further, and the task that James has merrily dubbed "Operation: Stun Sabrina's Pants Off" (a name that has earned him a punch in the arm from the Psychic's suitor) is completed in almost no time at all.
"And still a few days to go before Christmas," he comments.
"On purpose, my boy," James gloats, "on purpose. This way you have time to get more of the essentials togeth-"
The ringing of the phone cuts him short.
"Just a sec," Ash tells him as he checks the caller ID. "Oh shit, it's Sabrina!"
"Just lie and tell her you did all the work and everything will be fine," the visitor says as he starts for the door. "And don't worry about paying me back, I'm just happy to help!" he adds quickly as he closes it.
"Was that who I think it is?" asks the voice on the other end.

Now he is nervous.
She has never been in any residence that belongs to him, although he has visited her home in the tropics, and the trysts they held in various hotel rooms were too numerous to count. Almost instinctively, his mind wanders to one especially daring encounter when they had visited Gardenia's residence for a garden party that they had been invited to. They had found what they assumed was a secluded spot along a hedge-lined path, and with only a fleeting glance to make sure they were alone they immediately set upon each other, tongues tangled between their lips, one of her thighs rubbing the sensitive part between his legs as he slid his hand up her skirt and pushed the fabric of her panties away from her moist pussy. The motion his hand made as he caressed her soft folds before letting a finger slip inside was overwhelming to her, and it was all she could do to not cry out his name.
And then, to her shock, she looked over his shoulder and saw Gardenia watching them, a sly smile on her face as she walked towards them.
"You know," the Grass-type Gym Leader said casually as she began to strip out of her clothes, "I come out here all the time. Sometimes I just play with myself, sometimes I have a little bit of fun with some of my team, and sometimes I bring one of the guys out here. Or Erika, if she's in the area."
"And?" Sabrina and Ash asked at the same time.
"I hope I'm not imposing on you two too much, but might I extend the invitation to make this a private party for three?"
Every time Ash thinks about that day, he smiles to himself and then tries to think of how to control his freshly awakened erection.
He looks out the window absentmindedly and watches the snow come down. It is a strong snowfall, but not so heavy as to be a complete travel nightmare. He smiles at the beauty of it all, wishing it was just a bit darker outside so the flakes could shine brighter than they already do.
The knock at the door finally returns him to reality. Not wanting to leave the serenity of the snow outside his window yet knowing who his guest is, he walks over and turns the doorknob.
Her skin, normally almost as pale as the snow outside, is tinged with touches of red on her cheeks from the cold. The earmuffs and scarf match the red of her eyes, and instinctively his own eyes move down past her gray overcoat to her legs, hidden under black slacks and fur-lined snowboots. Then he looks back up.
She doesn't look him in the eye right away, instead choosing to lean to one side to see what the apartment has turned into. "No way you did this yourself," she says flatly, and he knows that lying to her is hopeless.
"I had some help."
She snickers. "It looks nice, Ash."
She walks past him, carrying two small pieces of luggage, which she sets on the floor. She then unbuttons her overcoat and slips it off, revealing a sleeveless red blouse with ruffling on the front and a neckline just low enough to show the slightest suggestion of cleavage. Her host tries not to gulp too audibly as she drapes her overcoat on a chair before sitting down on the couch and crossing her legs.
"Can I get you anything?" he quickly asks, trying to not let the slow-burning thoughts of arousal, of the body that she keeps concealed under the fabric, get the better of him. "Tea, coffee, anything?"
"Tea might be nice," she smiles.
"Coming right up," and with a sigh of relief he turns to his cupboards. He finds the strainer ball and the loose-leaf Earl Grey and sets to work. Within mere minutes, the water is boiling, and he is waiting on the tea to finish steeping when he hears her humming. He turns around and nothing has changed except the sound.
She notices him staring but does not turn her head. "'How Do I Live' by LeAnn Rimes," she tells him.
"Ah, I thought it sounded familiar."
All is silence for a while, then he returns to the cupboard to retrieve teacups and saucers.
"Remember that time during Halloween when you couldn't stop singing 'Heaven Beside You' by Alice In Chains?" she asks him.
"'Like the coldest winter chill, heaven beside you, hell within,'" he starts singing, as if she had suggested something to his subconscious, as if he was hypnotized. "'And you wish you had it still, heaven beside you-'"
"Cream, please," she interrupts.
He jumps slightly. "R-right," he blurts as he pours the tea, adds her cream, and brings the cups to her.
"Thank you, Ash," she says sweetly, taking the cup and saucer extended towards her. Her host sits down on an old high-backed chair (a gift from Roxanne after he had beaten the Champion in Sinnoh; apparently her tastes were not quite the same as his) and watches her. Her delicate throat twitches with every swallow she takes as she lifts the cup to her lush dark red lips. He can feel his breathing become shallow with desire as her eyes close while she savors the taste, and all he can think about is what he knows he will eventually do with her.
Then she lowers her cup and opens her eyes, and he knows he has been caught.
"Have you even touched your tea yet?" she asks, teasingly.
In reply, he swiftly raises the cup to his mouth and drains it in a couple of gulps. He can hear her giggling, and all he can think of is, Dear fucking Arceus she is so sexy when she laughs. Oh my god, I think I'm going to have mental blue balls.
The cup shakes in his hand as he lowers it to the saucer, causing a discordant rattling when they touch. "Are you all right, Ash?" she asks, eyebrow raised.
LUST.
That is all that is in his mind.
I want to launch over this coffee table right now, sever every button on her blouse, tear her goddamn bra in half, yank her slacks and panties down in one swipe and fuck her senseless right there on the couch. I want to pound the unmerciful hell out of her pussy and leave her dripping with our cum all over this goddamn couch. I want her to be smiling like the slut I know she acts like in bed when I blow my load all over her face-
In the heat of his lust-tormented thoughts, he forgets that she is a Psychic, and she can't help but delve into her host's thoughts. She blushes a bit, the images his thoughts present blazing like wildfire, and then she finds herself trying to breathe deeper, trying to not break into a desire-induced sweat, the mere thought of carnality causing her to become wet with nothing but a barely-restrained lust.
I want him to rip all of my clothes off and fuck me just like he did at the beach house, she thinks. I want to feel nothing but pleasure from now until I have to drag myself back to Saffron to do my job. I want him to know that I am his and no one else's, just like he is mine. I want his cum to fill my pussy so full that it won't hold anymore. I want to be pounded into both of my holes and feel nothing more than primal urges like a wild fucking animal. I want to be fucked so much that I will want nothing else. I want to feel his cock inside me, claiming me as his own. I want to hold him close and whisper every filthy thing that comes to my mind into his perverted little ears. I want this man, and I want him NOW!
And thus, a very strange, very awkward, yet very feral silence hangs in the air between them. He sees her staring at him, red eyes glowing with pure unadulterated lust, and he realizes she's read his mind, and he feels ashamed. She's his GUEST, after all; he doesn't need to-
"Do you want to put the cups away so we don't break them?" she asks, cutting his thoughts off. There is, for him, no mistaking that tone, that sultry purr that beckons him like the siren's call.
Without a word, he takes the dishes and sets them on the counter near the sink, then turns and begins to unbutton his shirt as he walks towards her. She is quicker in undressing, though, and by the time he manages to peel his shirt off, she has stripped down to her underwear and propped herself on her elbows, leaning back along the couch.
"Get your pants off, damn it," she growls, panting with lust. "I'm going hormone-happy over here!"
"I shall do as my lady wishes," he replies with a smirk as he starts to remove his belt.
The pants hit the floor and he is on top of her, lips moving from her own down her pale neck, feeling her head arch back with the touch, then lightly passing down her collarbone and to the cleavage he knows so well. Her breasts are barely restrained by her bra and he lets his tongue gently trace the fabric that just comes over her nipples. He can feel her breath catch as he moves his hands up her sides and pushes her bra up so her nipples are exposed for him.
Her own hands hold his head close as he flicks his tongue over one of her nipples, tracing around the areola, triggering a slight cooing sound from her. She forces her eyes open so she can look at him, see what little pleasures he is raining on her body, and she finds herself looking into his eyes, and there is nothing but the wild eyes of a carnal beast, of an animal servicing his mate when she is in heat. He could take it slow, be romantic, heaven help her, she knows he could do that, he's done it before. But something has come over him, something that drives him, filling his thoughts with nothing but an obsession to make her surrender to his lusts, and he slips one hand between her legs and pushes the fabric away from her pussy, letting his fingertips brush the sensitive skin before plunging his index and middle fingers in.
There is a quality to the gasps that come from her throat, gasps that express her shock over his refusal to be gentle this time, that is like dropping a can of gasoline on a brush fire. He knows that any chance of this being a sweet, romantic, luxurious affair like they have shared before was slim to begin with and vanished when he started letting his mind explode as she drank her tea. There is only primal desire now, and as his thumb glides gently over her clit and his fingers pump fanatically inside her, he immerses himself in that desire. His free hand slides down to his own waist and he awkwardly pushes his boxers down and off, letting his penis, aching with every movement, every shudder that courses effortlessly between their bodies, free from its bindings. Instinctively, as he continues to fingerfuck her, he begins to thrust his hips forward, wishing he had more than just air to interact with.
She wishes he would do more, and as she unsteadily unhooks her bra and tosses it behind her (where it lands on Pikachu, who is somehow sleeping undisturbed), her wish is granted when he removes his fingers and, just as she is experiencing disappointment over the attention that he was giving her pussy coming to an end, replaces them with his tongue, drawing it along the very edges of her before rapidly flicking it over her clit. Her hips begin to buck wildly into his face and she reaches down and holds his head in place, wrapping her smooth legs around him so he could do nothing but attend to her wants. She only wishes now that she hadn't shaved her pubic hair into oblivion, because even a small patch of fur would be pure heaven for both of them for him to nuzzle as he eats her out. Still, his skin pressed so desirously next to her as it is sends shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of her body.
And that is what finally causes her to slide off the sofa and to the carpet, separating the two lovers. They stay on their knees and pull each other into a kiss, one that they both know will be the most purely romantic thing they will end up doing all night, and then she decides to do for him something that he has done to her all of the times they have made love previously. She lowers her head, kissing him from his strong jaw down past his collarbone, down his sternum to his athletic abdomen, and finally, having slid downwards until she can bend down no further, she reaches his cock. She takes only the head into her mouth at first, but Ash has been paying so much attention to her that he has neglected his own needs, and the way she gently sucks on the tip while she flicks her tongue over the tiny hole melts him. "Oh fuck, Sabrina!" he exclaims as he has to hold onto both the couch and the coffee table to steady himself.
It is then that she decides to hell with going easy on him, she's going to let loose.
With one movement she takes as much of his cock into her mouth as she can, causing his vision to nearly go black. He squeezes his eyes shut to try to clear everything, but he is so engulfed in pleasure that he can't open them again. His breathing becomes more and more harsh as her head bobs around him faster and harder.
Still, she doesn't want him to cum now, not when she has not had her own release. She reaches beneath her with one arm, using the other one to steady herself, and begins to rub her slit, throwing any form of gentleness aside. This is not a gentle process, not this time.
He feels her moan and whimper around him, can feel every motion she makes, and he pulls out of her mouth somewhat reluctantly. Before she can protest, however, he rolls her over, climbs around the couch, spreads her legs, and enters her in one thrust. Her face contorts in a twisted, erotic agony as he fills her, then pulls away, almost all the way out, before slamming in again. This is not lovemaking, they understand. What they are doing is straight-up fucking. As his length glides across every part of her vagina that will set off a wildfire in her mind, she can only moan and say "fuck" over and over again. Tonight, that is how they like it.
The question that should be hanging in the air now is how long do they continue, at least for the moment. The answer is simple: they have a few days to do whatever they want, so if they stay in this position, so what? The rest can be done as the days go on.
And with that knowledge, he pounds into her even faster, her arms reaching to pull his body close to hers. They kiss, smothering their own cries with their lips, and then they can take no more. He drives himself as far as he can go and her back arches once more, and her eyes fly open and she's staring, not really at the ceiling, not really at his face, which is going blank, but… but… something. Almost a nothingness. And as they cum together, their fluids leak around him and he collapses on top of her, spent for the moment, both of them trying to catch their breath.
She is finally the one who speaks. "So, we're gonna do this most of the time I'm here, right?"
"Well, not quite most, but we went just basic there, I mean, my god, we didn't go doggy-style-"
"Oh jeez, that's a must-"
"We haven't tried out some of our other tricks-"
"And I want to do anal at least once."
"OK then. For the moment-"
"Head-clearing time. Gotcha."
So they just lie on the floor, saying nothing. There is not much space between the couch and the coffee table, but it is enough for innocent cuddling like they are doing, or it would be innocent if neither was naked and flushed from just having had sex.
A few minutes later, she sits up, and for the first time, she really looks at the tree.
It stands near a wall, not much taller than six feet, with strands of lights illuminating it. Various ornaments and shiny bulbs hang from the branches, and a toy that looks strikingly like a Staryu at the very top. In short, it looks like something that would have taken a couple of hours to do right by one person. Of course….
"You could not have possibly done this yourself."
She can hear his sigh rising from the floor. "No, somebody else did most of the work. It's a fir, by the way."
And an idea forms in her head.

They have spent the past few days leading up to Christmas doing little more than having sex on an almost constant basis. They have only had a couple of periods where they have gone a couple of hours not filling the apartment with moans and screams and dirty talk, and both of those periods have been spent shopping.
For some reason, she claims she needed a third piece of luggage for her present. He decides not to pry, primarily because he has no excuse for buying so much wrapping paper and Scotch tape.
So now, as he sleeps in the bed after another long session of lovema- no, not that, a long session of fucking (they realize that is a better word for how primal their sex has become), she carefully slips out of the covers and treads silently over the carpet and out of the room. She can somewhat see in the dark, but it gets better when she gets to the tree and plugs it in.
And then she opens up the piece of luggage she has purchased and sets to work.

Sabrina, like Ash, has spent a lot of time agonizing over what she would do for Christmas. The agonizing is to the extent that the Gym Leaders and Elite Four members are getting as sick of her constant calling as they are with Ash's.
"But wrapping ribbons around myself is so cliché!" she whined into her phone once as a sigh came from the other end.
"Brina," Bugsy begins patiently, "of all the people to be asking, I'm the very last one. I know nothing about romantic decorations or anything like that-"
"Come on. You're telling me that Roxanne never tried?"
"She's not that kind of girl, Brina-"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Bugsy, give me the goddamned phone!" yelled a voice.
"Janine?" Sabrina questioned.
There was a pause, then the voice spoke, a bit clearer now, "Look, Sabrina, you're wrecking the little sexy time for me and Bugsy and Winona, so let's get this over with. What's your problem, now?"

He feels her weight lift delicately from the bed and hears her footsteps leave, and he knows this is his chance.
Quickly, he rolls out of the bed and pulls out wrapping paper, tape, and scissors.

Her mouth twists towards one corner in contemplation as she tries to figure out what to do next.
This bulb should hang HERE-
No, it should hang HERE-
Damn it. This is harder than I thought.

It is a common flaw among men, one that is pointed out with some regularity, that they are unable to wrap presents with any finesse or perfection. He is learning this in a hurry.
I do NOT need to be using this much tape.
Or paper, for that matter.
Damn it. This is harder than I thought.

In many houses, the view to the outside is still dark as children run down the stairs and through the house to wake their parents up at ungodly times just to rip cheap wrapping paper off of presents that, more often than not, they are bored by within days. Said parents wonder what the hell they spent all that money for and are relieved when Christmas is over so they can go a year or so without that kind of dread.
Were these parents to know what is happening in Ash's apartment, they would have a different kind of dread.
He moves rather gingerly, a rustling sound accompanying every step, but he stops when he sees the tree lit.
Huh, she must have gotten up early.
Gosh, that tree has gotten really fuckin' BRIGHT-
And then he sees her.
She is standing, arms stretched but starting to sag from weariness, next to the tree. She has wrapped at least one strand of lights around herself, along with several lengths of shimmering fuzzy garland. It has an interesting effect on her naked body as the garland is rubbing against her nipples and her pussy, and try as she might, she's failing to resist any and all sensations despite the fact that it's rather prickly.
"That," her lover remarks, choosing his words carefully, "is so much better than what I did."
She turns her head to look and almost loses her composure: he has wrapped his waist and groin in wrapping paper, making what seem to be festive paper boxer shorts. The only problem is he has used far too much tape and paper, making for a very bulky "package," so to speak. All she can do is smile and hope she does not start laughing.
"You look amazing, Ash," she says, and she simply fails to stop a chuckle from escaping her throat. To her relief, he smiles.
"You look much better."
She lets her eyes close partway, and he sees the seduction on her face. "So, when do I get to unwrap my present?" she purrs.
"It IS Christmas, right?" he replies.
She tries to move towards him, but she feels a tugging, and she realizes she's still plugged into the wall outlet. Sighing, she reaches down to unplug herself, giving him a spectacular view in the process, but the sound of throat-clearing is heard. "No, don't," he says. "I'll help you get the ornaments off, but maybe the rest should stay a little longer."
"That's a relief," she comments as she starts quickly taking bulbs off the strands of garland and hangs them on the tree. He walks, or waddles to be more accurate, towards her and removes the ones she can't quite reach, then as she hangs the last on the tree, he slides his hand under one strand of garland and cups her pussy.
The reaction is immediate: her back arches towards the tree, pushing herself further into his hand. He is ready for this, however, and he slips a finger in and starts sliding it inside her. Her legs wobble as he uses his free hand to caress her breasts while at the same time keeping her from collapsing. Her breath comes in short gasps as a low moan escapes her lips, prompting him to increase the speed with which he is fingering her.
He knows, however, that he cannot hold her up much longer, so he carefully helps her to her knees, forcing him to remove his finger from her pussy in the process. With relish, she tears at the paper until it lies in shreds around them. She then goes straight for his already-solid cock, taking the length of him in one swift motion again.
Now he is the one about to fall down as she forgoes any slow build in favor of a frenzied blowjob, coating him with her saliva as she fiercely works her head back and forth, using her tongue to occasionally wrap itself around his shaft. "Oh my god, Sabrina," is all he can say, his head too full of sparks.
It only occurs to him then how beautiful she really is. The tiny lights and the shiny garlands cause her pale skin to glow like wildfire, and her red eyes shine with so many things: lust, need, love.
And they both know that no matter what they do after this, no matter who they have flings with, together or separately, they have a love for each other, something that is too odd for them to describe with any satisfaction, but it is love. And that is when, for them, the line between fucking and lovemaking becomes blurred beyond recognition. It is a strange love, yet one that they are happy to share.
The soft glow seems to change with every movement of her head as the lights shake with her body. She finally pulls away with a sigh, looking up at him with sparkles in her red eyes. He kneels down to face her and they softly begin to kiss, and for the first time since her arrival, they are able to slow down, let their passion envelop them in gentle waves, and simply enjoy each other. Gently, he takes her in his arms and unwinds the lights from around her body, leaving just the soft garland. He finds it to be exquisite against the skin as he lays her down on the carpet, still kissing her. He pushes the silver strands over the top of her breasts, and his lips lift from hers as he hovers over her, hands cupped on her large yet soft breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples, and he smiles.
"This is the best gift you could have ever given me," he whispers.
"I made it special just for you, baby," she whimpers, "but where's the rest of my present?"
In reply, he gently rubs her nipples, and her eyes close and her head rolls back as she sighs. He leaves a trail of kisses down her throat and past her collarbone to the space between her breasts, and her body starts to twist in response, her hands reaching for his jet black hair so she can keep him in place. Her nipples have gotten harder and more sensitive to touch as he plays with them, every movement sending a new pleasure through her.
He then frees himself from her grasp and slides down her body, and her initial whine of disappointment is replaced by a cry of "AH!" as his tongue finds her slit. He flicks her clit with the same gentleness that he had when he played with her nipples, wanting to draw this out as long as he can and as long as she is able. He then draws his tongue down her opening and slowly draws it back up, using long strokes as her hips buck against his face. He looks up and their eyes meet, and there is now pleading and need mixed together.
"P-please," she begs, "I need to have the rest of my present, Ash. Please fuck me now…."
Her voice simply fades away, and he feels he's teased her enough. He moves to the side, then slides his left arm under her thighs and his right arm around her back and picks her up. "I think I want to do it right this time," he tells her, soft smile radiating on his face as he walks towards his bedroom. He goes through the door sideways and gently places her on the bed.
And then he climbs onto the bed, crawls between her legs, and slides his cock into her. Her back arches and she lets out a long, thin whimper as he slowly buries himself in her, then pulls away just as slowly until just the head is still inside. And with the same agonizingly slow pace, he pushes right back in.
She knows he wants this to be different from all the other times they've made love, but a part of her wishes he'd speed up. The build is almost too excruciating for her, too much like he's still just teasing her. It's not fair, she thinks.
And it is then that he starts to increase the quickness and power of his thrusts, making her wonder whenever she can get her head cleared of the sparks if she might have telepathically let her lover know what she wanted without knowing she actually told him. She reaches out and finds him, her arms pulling his body close to hers, pulling him into a kiss. They remain locked in that kiss as his thrusts become more piston-like and as she moves her hips to meet his every motion.
He suddenly pulls out, and the look in her eyes changes to one of disappointment, but he smiles and places a finger on her lips. "Don't worry, I'm not done yet," he whispers. "I just want you to enjoy your present so much that no present will ever compare to this."
He rolls her over as he finishes speaking, and she happily obliges by rising to her hands and knees. No sooner does she have herself steadied than he starts to tease her opening with the tip of his cock, letting it nuzzle the soft flesh of her slit before he gives in to her soft whimpers and enters her again. This time, he isn't taking his dear sweet time as he thrusts inside her, her body swaying back and forth to meet him again as she slowly sinks down until her arms can no longer support her and she is on her face screaming, "OH GOD, ASH, I'M GONNA FUCKING LOSE MY MIND, AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH, GIVE ME MY PRESENT, BABY, OH FUCKING PLEASE!"
And who is he to deny his love her request?
He turns her so they both rest on their sides, managing to not pull out as they do so, and as he resumes his pace, she turns her head towards him as much as she physically can, letting him kiss the space between her jaw and her earlobe, which he flicks with his tongue occasionally. His right hand snakes over the top of her and fondles her breasts as all that comes from her mouth now are moans, whimpers, and lots of dirty words. He momentarily realizes that he never had a partner who was anywhere close to Sabrina in terms of how filthy their language got while he was pounding inside their pussies, and he can't help but smile. She is special, she is different, she is HIS.
And neither of them can hold back any longer. The long, slow build, the gentleness that he used for two-thirds of their lovemaking, their own realization of their feelings for each other, all of it is too much for her as she lets go, her vagina tightening around him as her orgasm hits her like a tidal wave. Her insides unleash a near searing heat and he can feel a trickling down his cock and that's all it takes to push him over. With one final thrust, he slams balls deep inside of her and cums, filling her with a heat of his own as they hover at the peak for a moment, a brief, blissful moment, before softly floating back down.
She turns her head again, her face flush from their sex, and she smiles. "That was the loveliest present I've ever had, Ash," she coos.
He feels something swell up, and it's not his cock. "I just wish I could have maybe done a bit more with it," he sighs, regret tinting his voice.
"Shh, it's all right, we've done so much the past few days to each other that this is nice, you know, to just let go like this."
She snuggles close to him, and he lets his arm simply fall across her body, draping it just below her breasts as he kisses her neck. He has not pulled out, but he knows it will be a while before they resume, if they choose to, that is.
They don't need to say anything, but they do anyway, or actually, he does first. "I love you, Sabrina."
She knows he means it. Her means it just as much as she means it when she replies, "I know. I love you, Ash."
She sees him smile, and she knows that he understands.
The presents remain untouched by the tree, and they will remain untouched for the time being. Sooner or later, they will reluctantly leave the bed, perhaps put just the bare minimum of clothing on, and see what they might have gotten for each other or what others have gotten for them. Sooner or later, they will hold each other on the couch and watch the snow fall outside. And sooner or later, they will start all over again, exploring each other's bodies, letting themselves get lost in their love.
But for now, they just lie on the bed, content to be as they are.
He leans in to whisper in her ear, "Merry Christmas, my love."
"Merry Christmas to you too, baby."
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Winterfall