What Really Happened In That Shower A special continuation of Between A Cave and A Cliffhanger, in honor of CMS's Birthday ***** Roxton always loved to hear Marguerite laughing, but the rich, sensual, promising nature of this laughter went straight to his head like the best champagne. Unable to help himself, he bent his head to hers and drank in that laughter with a deep, passionate kiss. The sound stopped, but the way she returned his kiss more than made up for it. A heady time later, Marguerite finally pulled her lips from his, much to his discontent. "John…" she murmured huskily. "What?" he mumbled before trailing hot kisses up her cheek. "The elevator's stopped." "Huh?" Blinking, dazed with the desire racing through his body, Roxton forced himself to look up and pay attention to his surroundings. Sure enough, the lift had stopped at the Treehouse level; had probably stopped some time ago, judging from the fact that there wasn't the slightest bit of sway. Raising his eyebrows at the woman he carried in his arms, he remarked, "So it has. I must have been…distracted." Marguerite grinned wickedly and shifted her hip so it rubbed back and forth against the front of his trousers, chuckling as Roxton sucked in a deep breath at the caress. "I suppose 'distracted' is one word for it…" she teased gently. Roxton took another deep breath, trying to get his raging desire under some semblance of control. "Marguerite…" he groaned, "…as wonderful as that feels, unless you want me to drop you…" With a mock sigh, Marguerite ceased her movements. "Well, we can't have that. I guess we'll just have to wait until you put me down." She shivered slightly at the look Roxton gave her in response, feeling her own excitement rising still higher at his obvious arousal. "Then I'd better carry you out of this elevator, or I'll really prove I'm not a gentleman," he rumbled in a voice made even deeper with passion, "and make love to you right here." In response, Marguerite briefly nibbled along Roxton's jawline. "While that sounds fun under other circumstances, I think the shower would be more appropriate today," she whispered back to him. "After all, I did say that if you washed my back for me, I'd wash your front." With another groan, Roxton brought his lips back down on hers. He managed to stumble out of the elevator, still carrying her, all the while kissing her madly. Glancing up only often enough to make sure he didn't run into any furniture, he navigated the great room and walked swiftly to the stairs leading down to the shower. As he reached them, though, a rumbling noise reached his ears. The two lovers stopped kissing and stared at each other in surprise. "The elevator…?" Marguerite said in disbelief. "The elevator," Roxton agreed grimly. He hastily descended the stairs and gently set Marguerite down on the bench outside the shower. "Wait here. I'll see what this is all about." "John, something might be wrong. I can - " Marguerite started as she began to try and stand. Roxton hastily placed a gentle but restraining hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure it's nothing. Stay here, and I'll be right back." After placing one more swift kiss on her lips, Roxton turned and bounded up the stairs, leaving behind a very frustrated heiress. For his part, Roxton was feeling pretty frustrated too. Whatever this is, I hope it's nothing. Either that, or it had better be really important! he thought to himself rather incoherently. He reached the great room just as the elevator started its return trip up to the Treehouse level. Grabbing a pistol just in case, he waited for the lift to reach the top. A familiar blonde head rose into view, and Roxton relaxed his hold on his pistol even as a puzzled frown settled over his face. "Finn? What brought you back here? Is everything all right?" The young woman eyed his gun askance but gave him a grin. "Whoa, big guy! Don't shoot," she joked. "Everything's fine. I just thought it might take you a while to help Marguerite, so I came back for Challenger's knives. This way you won't have to hurry." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "We've pretty much got things covered at the pond, except for needing the knives. After the day she's had so far, I thought Marguerite might feel better if you didn't have to go rushing off. This way you can take your time helping her clean up, taking care of any scrapes, and helping her settle down. A calmer Marguerite is a good thing for all of us." She winked. Roxton smiled at her, touched and somewhat surprised by her thoughtfulness - and relieved that this was going to be a very short interruption. "Thanks, Finn, that was very nice of you. Do you know where Challenger keeps the knives?" "I think so, but I'm not quite sure." "I know right where they are. Let me show you." Within two minutes, the blonde girl from the future was headed back down the elevator, knives in hand. Once safely below the level of the Treehouse, she finally gave in to her giggles, muffling them against her sleeve the best she could. Geez, could he have been any more obvious about wanting to get me out of the Treehouse? She rolled her eyes, remembering that both Veronica and Challenger appeared curiously oblivious to what was (in her view) so very blatantly going on between Marguerite and Roxton. She knew that there was still an awful lot she didn't understand about the people of this time, but how anyone could have missed the way they'd been acting over the last week or so was beyond her. Any time they think no one's around, they pretty much can't keep their hands off of each other - and they're always disappearing off somewhere together. If that weren't enough, just the way that they look at each other, hello! It was obvious to Finn that the two were lovers - and that not only were Challenger and Veronica unaware of it, but that Marguerite and Roxton wanted to hide it for some reason. Knowing all that, and knowing the probable reaction to the fear and stress of the strange dino attack, Finn had spontaneously decided to give them a hand by retrieving the knives herself - and ensure them of some private time in the Treehouse. I'm half-surprised they weren't already boinking like bunnies by the time I got to the Treehouse - even though I did hurry, just to minimize the risk. She frowned briefly, her giggles dying off as another idea occurred to her. Maybe Marguerite's legs are hurt worse than I thought. Then she remembered how Roxton looked, and her smirk returned full force. Or maybe they're just taking their time. Either way, I'm sure they'll figure out some way of enjoying themselves. Whistling merrily, she jumped out of the lift as soon as it reached ground level and headed back to the pond. Back in the Treehouse, Roxton saw Finn descend in the elevator with relief. As soon as she was out of sight, he turned and hurried back towards Marguerite, stopping briefly in his room just long enough to remove his boots. Once free of them, he padded barefoot to the shower room, where he found Marguerite still sitting on the bench, a half-impatient, half-questioning look on her face. "Well? Is everything all right? Was that Finn I heard?" she asked before he could say a word. "Yes, it was Finn, and yes, everything is fine," he reassured her hastily. "She just came back for those knives for Challenger. Which means," he added, looking Marguerite up and down with a slow, sensual gaze, "I don't have to hurry back to the pond." Marguerite smiled, her face relaxing and her eyes regaining their smouldering expression. "That's good. I hate to…rush things." Roxton crouched down in front of her and reached up to gently caress her face. "Oh, really? I can remember a few times recently where you didn't seem to mind a rush. In fact, I think I remember you insisting on it." He let his hand wander down to the edge of her blouse, tracing the shadow of cleavage it revealed. "Still, since we have the time…" He slowly began unbuttoning her blouse. Marguerite shifted restlessly under his touch, arching her chest closer to his teasing hands. "John," she murmured uncertainly, already feeling on the edge. "Sh, Marguerite. Let me. Let me take care of you," he answered. Looking into his eyes, reading his expression and seeing the need there, she nodded once. "All right, John." Briefly, a teasing smile returned to her face. "Just don't forget about the shower." "Oh, I won't," he assured her fervently. Carefully, tenderly, Roxton slowly began undressing Marguerite, pausing frequently to kiss and caress newly bared expanses of skin. Lingering over the spots he knew were most responsive to his touch, he relished her soft exclamations of pleasure. First her blouse, allowing him access to her collarbone, the long lines of her neck, the delicate skin of her wrists and inner arms. Then her camisole - baring her wonderful breasts to his loving attention. Her trousers were more problematical, requiring care in easing them over her bruises and scrapes, but the care required gave him even more time to lavish kisses on the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. As he eased the last of her trousers off of her legs and began to stroke her through the thin cloth of her panties, Marguerite roused herself briefly from the wonderful sensations. "What's sauce for the goose, John…" she said, panting slightly for breath. She caressed his bare flesh in return, causing him to jump in startlement. "Marguerite!" he exclaimed, reeling. Looking down, he was stunned to realize that she had somehow managed to undo the fly on his trousers without his noticing, until she had eased a hand inside. "How did you…?" Giving him a sultry look, Marguerite answered as she frequently did - with a question of her own. "Do you really want to know?" She stroked him again, gently but insistently. "No," he groaned, barely able to think. She smiled, loving seeing how she affected him with a simple touch, knowing they were both more than ready. "I didn't think so. But I do think we're both ready for our shower." Taking the hint, Roxton left her just long enough to start the water running. Returning to her side, he quickly removed what remained of both their clothes, then scooped her up into his arms. Their lips met again even as he walked under the spray, and Roxton felt he was drowning in more ways than one. Marguerite broke the kiss and sputtered a laugh. "Maybe we shouldn't stand directly beneath the shower head, John," she giggled. "No, I guess not," he chuckled in return as he took a step backwards. "Mm, that's better," Marguerite sighed as water rolled down her chest and legs, rather than directly over her head. Stretching slightly, she managed to reach over and grab the bar of soap. She smiled, remembering how she and Veronica had labored to create the first batch, nearly a year ago. The Plateau blonde hadn't understood why Marguerite had been so obsessed with the task - until she'd had her first wash with the gentle, sweet-smelling substance as opposed to the harsh soap she'd been accustomed to. Marguerite had been gratified by her reaction then - but was doubly grateful for the gentle soap now. She began to gently rub the bar against Roxton's chest, tracing around the nipples, slowly working up a good lather. Once her hands were truly soapy, she continued rubbing his chest with the bar in one hand, and wiggled one hand down between their bodies to start soaping his erection with the other. Roxton moaned and shivered at the sensations Marguerite was causing. "Marguerite, if you keep doing that, I'm not sure if I can keep holding you like this. The soap…" He moaned again, unable to help himself. "So set me down," Marguerite answered softly, pausing in her soaping. She stretched to put the soap back, then rinsed both hands in the spray of the shower and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I promise you I won't put much weight on my legs. You'll see." Part of Roxton's mind protested briefly, but was drowned out by the rest of him. "All right, but promise me you'll tell me if anything hurts." He looked seriously into her eyes, needing her word. With a loving smile, Marguerite assented. "I promise." Gently, he lowered Marguerite's legs to the ground, until she was standing upright with her arms still wrapped around his shoulders. "Is this all right?" he breathed, barely able to hold still as he felt her naked body pressed full-length against him. Unable to resist, Marguerite allowed a slight frown to cross her face. "Almost," she said, "but I think with a little adjustment…" Bracing herself on John's strong shoulders, she lifted herself and wrapped both legs around his waist, straddling him. Her abused limbs protested a bit at the strain, but Marguerite was far more interested in other things to care. "That's better," she commented, smiling a little at the stunned look on John's face. "I told you I wasn't hurt all that much," she reminded him. "But if you'll perform one more little adjustment, it would be better still." Her meaning was unmistakable, and Roxton could no longer deny her desires, or his own. Reaching down, he positioned himself at her entrance, and sighed as Marguerite settled down onto him, allowing gravity and her own body weight to bring him fully into her. "Better?" he asked huskily, nearly breathless with pleasure and the wonder of her. "Much," Marguerite chuckled throatily in reply. A few strokes proved that this position was too much of a strain on Marguerite's legs in their current condition, but by easing her back against the shower wall, they found sufficient leverage and balance. The position, the spray from the shower, the sensual soaping of each other as they worked towards release, all combined in a slow, exhilarating climb to climax. Just as he was reaching the peak, Roxton heard Marguerite cry out, and felt her body clench and shudder. He held himself still within her, almost pulled over the edge himself by the sensation, but determined to remain in control. As the last shivers faded, he gently set her down on her feet and withdrew from her. Understanding, Marguerite lovingly kissed him deeply in acknowledgement and reached for the soap again. Deftly and swiftly, she brought him to his own release, holding him as his body convulsed in pleasure. After they had both regained their breath, Marguerite and Roxton helped each other wash, rinse, and dry off, taking time to enjoy the sensations, but resisting the temptation to build up again. Roxton carefully treated and bandaged Marguerite's few but well-cleaned scrapes, then insisted on carrying her to her room. "I really need to be getting back to the others," he apologized as he set her down on her bed. His eyes and posture both spoke eloquently of his reluctance to go. "I know, John. They'll need your help in bringing all that meat back, if nothing else," Marguerite acknowledged. As much as he wanted to stay, and as much as she wanted him to stay with her, she knew it wasn't practical. Unwilling to let even a semblance of regret cloud his face, she mustered up a wicked smile. "Hm. It occurs to me that after helping out with all that butchery, you're going to need another shower." Her smile widened to a grin at his arrested expression. "If you need someone to wash your front again…" Roxton laughed, his unhappy feelings at having to leave her all forgotten as he was once again reminded just how lucky he was. "I'll know who to call," he replied, his eyes glowing with appreciation and love. Blowing her a kiss, he left the room, already looking forward to another shower. ***** Return to Between a Cave and a Cliffhanger |