Closed to Foggy

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Closed to Foggy

WHO: Anne
WHERE: Auld Lang Sim mansion
WHEN: Before New Years?
OPEN TO: Closed to Foggy
WARNINGS: ADULT THEMES

Anne Weying was decisive. It served her well in the world of high-powered corporate law, of making and committing to tough decisions in the heat of the moment. She doesn't question her gut, and trusts herself implicitly.

When the idea to invite Foggy to a private room, to continue their drunken endeavors, slipped into her mind, she'd grabbed onto it at once. He was trusted, seemed open to the idea, and there was an element of attraction; he was, to a point, like her. High-powered law, decisive, unyielding. But he also had a warmth about him, a brutal honesty and understanding of what she'd been going through.

Her head swims from the alcohol as she leads him through the sprawling gilt hallways towards a corridor of rooms she'd passed in her early exploration, but she's resolute. This fire she's feeling, this need to connect with someone and share something greater than herself is mutual, and right now that's no small thing.

She finds a room; not the first one, because she has standards, and she opens the door and leads him in before closing it. She doesn't both wtih lights, with a quick tour of the space, before descending on him again and kissing him with intent.

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Foggy follows after Anne, trying not to giggle like a school boy sneaking off for seven minutes of heaven in a parental closet. He's exceptionally drunk, so it's a bit difficult, especially when he keeps nearly tripping on his own feet as Anne guides them through the sprawling hallways.

Anne checks inside and room, another, he doesn't know what standard she's looking for but when she finds it they slip inside. He leans back against the door, surveying her while she surveys the room and when she returns, he sweeps her up into another kiss, arms wrapping around her waist.

Only to break the kiss with a gasp. "Limits?"

Even wasted, Foggy wants to know what's okay and what's not before they get too far into it to think about those limits.

Her arms link behind his shoulders as he kisses her, her fingers gripping at his shirt in anticipation. He breaks it and she leans back to look at him. Okay, yes, that's a valid question.

"No trashfires," She's not going to mention Eddie, he won't mention Matt; this is just about them. "No visible marks." So maybe that one is just a holdover from professional life and, a bit of a habit. She certainly wasn't ashamed about being with Foggy but she wasn't about to advertise her personal affairs, either, "No backdoors."

"You?"

"No trash fires," Foggy dutifully repeats back, because seriously, this is not a place for the ones they have or for making new ones.

No visible marks is fair. A lot of people don't like them for many reasons. And then... He laughs. "Really? You're going to phrase it like that?" Even sober Foggy might have smirked, but drunk he just laughs outright.

And softens it with a quick, deep kiss. "I don't want to risk knocking you up. Like, at all. And there's nothing like condoms here that I've found. But I would really like to hike up that dress and eat you out until you're screaming, if that's cool?"

SHe gives him a look, because she'll word it however she wants to word it (and let's be honest, she's drunk enough that words can be difficult and that's what happened to pop out).

And then he mentions his concerns and she swears, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. "Dammit, that's right." She wasn't sure if the birth control measures she'd taken still applied here - no, if what Tony had said about clones was right, she could put zero confidence in any contraceptives that may have been in effect.

It's hard to stay angry at the situation, though, when he presents such a perfect compromise, and she breathes out through gritted teeth in a very predatory manner. Her answer is to grab him by the tie and start walking backward, leading him back towards the bed without breaking eye contact in the dim light.

This place is awkward enough: Foggy is not adding 'shaming the Nelson family by knocking up a drunken, one night stand' to the difficulties.

The bared teeth aren't a smile, but they're something like it judging by the way she grabs his tie and starts pulling. He grins and moves with her, hands on her hips, rubbing and feeling the beading and stitching and the swell of her form. "I mean, in other circumstances... but as it stands, think this is the best I can offer."

"We'll just have to see how you do." It's a challenge, Foggy, are you up to it?

Anne reaches the bed and lays back, kicking off her heels and sliding back until she's fully on it. Propped up on her elbows, legs slightly bent with the long dress draped inbetween, she watches him. Maybe for a moment she imagines him cross-examining a witness in a high-stakes case and damn if that isn't adding fuel to the fire.

"Come on, show me what you've got."

Foggy lets her go to stretch back onto the bed, watching her with undisguised want. He licks his lips again, wetting them, chasing the taste of her kisses on them.

Then he comes down to join her, crawling up onto the foot of the bed and lifting one leg, kissing along it, feeling the silk of her stocking under his mouth, the warmth of her skin. He presses kisses from her ankle to her knee, along the inside length, and then changes to the other side, going from her knee and kissing up her inner thigh, pushing her dress up as he goes.

It's a tease, for sure, but not a lingering or slow one.

It is just the right speed to savor without being excruciating; it's been a while, and Anne thirsted. She slides her first leg along beside him as he trails up it, and slips her other leg over his shoulder. Her breathing is slow and measured and she is watching him like a hawk. Watching as he reveals more of her with each push of her dress.

"I think I've got the best view in the house right now." Her voice is low, breathy in anticipation.

When he gets there, Foggy pushes her dress up out of the way and slides his hands to feel her skin, the silk of stockings and panties, sliding down further to inhale her scent, his nose brushing the crease of her thigh and then mouthing softly at her through the silk, as much wet kiss as anything.

"I'll argue why you're wrong when I don't have my mouth full," he retorts.

She's finally forced to lay back, grabbing a pillow to lean onto and then tipping her hips up to aid him in getting rid her her stockings and underwear. This did mean slipping her leg off his shoulder, because she didn't want to put any undue pressure there, remembering their conversation the day he's arrived in the fountain.

"That may just boil down to a matter of opinion." The words come out after a soft groan. She is slick and wanting, closing her eyes to let herself focus even more on his presence between her legs.

She's never been face-first in another lady's nether regions herself and generally preferred the male sex. She wouldn't say it never crossed her mind, but this is where her attraction had focused on.

Her consideration would be appreciated if he wasn't very drunk and had completely forgotten about any aches, because he is drunk and horny.

"Maybe," he agrees absently, tossing aside the silk and pushing close. His tongue drags up along her, pressing between her lips to taste and then circling around her clit and pressing a damp, suckling kiss there.

She moans softly, it's been a hot minute since she's had this kind of attention and she's missed it. She reaches a hand down to intertwine fingers in his hair again.

"You better make good on your promise." Playfully teasing, but there's a note of expectation in the way she lightly drags her fingernails over his scalp.

He glances up along her body, eyebrow raised as if asking her if she really thinks he can't. Or won't.

He doesn't bother with a verbal reply, because he's busy tasting her, tongue rubbing over her clit and sucking on it firmly, testing what she likes.

She chuckles, satisfied by his expression, before giving a sudden breathy moan as he gets her just right. Damn, she hadn't wanted to make this easy for him but he's certainly attentive.

It certainly doesn't help that she's already fairly ready to go given how long its been, and their established mutual respect.

Some people find it too intense, or just uncomfortable, but since she's enjoying it, he's certainly not going to stop. He doesn't go too hard at first, soft suckles and mouthing slow with his lips, tongue pressing, licking and tasting.

One hand palms her thigh, spreading her a little wider and just enjoying the feel of her skin. He makes a soft sound, a quiet moan that's muffled in against her.

Anne likes intense, but she's also enjoying the gradual, steady attention he's giving her now. She's trying to take even, steady breaths but it's punctuated with sharp intakes and groans, one hand wrapping itself in the fabric of the bedspread, the other tugging at his hair.

She shifts her legs wider at his touch, letting out a long, low growl almost as chills run up her spine with the vibrations of his own moan.

It's when he can feel the moistness of her against his skin that he shifts to trace between her lips with his fingers, getting them slick so they run smoothly over her skin and then into her, slow and steady. He doesn't thrust, just pushes them deep and sucks firmer on her clit, pressing in counter point with his tongue.

Groaning lowly, she shifts slightly with the added stimulus. It's good, it is all so good. Her hand tightens in his hair each time he elicits those little chills, her breath is starting to come faster and more forcefully. She's still trying to keep under control, since it's a challenge and there's something intrinsically hot about not immediately giving in, aiding in the building.

And honestly, Foggy hadn't planned on stopping at one. He keeps pace and pushes his fingers deeper and up, testing to see if she's one of the women who likes it, who can get the g-spot and enjoy the hell out of it.

She groans a little louder and grinds down against him at that, her hand in his hair and on the bedspread tightening their grips in the moment. That would be a definitive yes, but just incase he had any doubt,

"God, yes ..."

Foggy grunts as she pulls his hair, but it's not an unfamiliar thing and he doesn't mind. He just groans and then very deliberately hums as he crooks his fingers, pushing them up into her g-spot and getting firmer on her clit.

Her moans are coming out louder now, half-formed words and sounds simply for the effect they bring in addition to Foggy's increased pressure and focus. Her hand moves from his hair to his shoulder in order to grab a fistful of shirt - something she can grip and hold without diverting his attention, and god she is loving his attention. Trying to keep her movements to a minumum, she still can't help but writhe slightly underneath his touch.

If this happens again, if, there are things Foggy definitely wants to try with her, positions to give her more, or less but for longer, things they'd have to talk about and be sober enough to actually do.

This works now. She sounds wonderful, she tastes fantastic and the way she's gripping his fingers, all slick, tight heat is enough to make him moan and hum more against her, wanting to make her lose it.

Given how well things are going so far Anne wouldn't turn down a sequel.

He hums and she arches against him, letting out a longer sustained shriek in precursor to the endgame screaming; she's damn close, pulling at his shirt and the bedspread and starting to drift out of the presence of mind to keep it down the neighbors might hear.

Fuck the neighbors. Or anyone else that might be in earshot. She deserves this.

There's a noisy party going on. And Foggy fails to care anyway, would fail to care if he was sober, either.

That much noise only means good things so Foggy makes sure to keep going, not letting up for a single second until he feels her come. Maybe not even then. Depends on how she reacts to that.

That's it; she's lost. Her body tenses as she finally screams out, the orgasm blooming through her and sending shocks of lightning along her nerves. It's beautiful, and it's all she wants to exist in for this moment,

"Don'tstop, don'tstop," the words come breathy and desperate but then she's screaming again, louder this time, arching her back and digging her heels into the bed.

He doesn't stop. Even when she starts screaming, he doesn't stop, doesn't let up, assumes that she'll tell him when she wants him to do either of those things.

She feels good. She tastes better.

She's greedy, she wants this, and she doesn't want to let it go, and it's not until she's hoarse and starting to feel light-headed that she finally lets go of his shirt and pats his shoulder.

Damn, was he good.

He takes that patting to mean 'back off slowly, wind me down' because there's not a lot of people appreciate someone just stopping and dropping. And he likes to not just meet but exceed expectations.

He slows, eases, stops pressing so deep and just mouths gently. Presses a kiss.

It's appreciated, in the sense that everything Foggy's doing feels right and even this gradual cool-down allows her to catch her breath as apposed to a suffocating, sudden stop.

Anne takes deep breaths, punctuated by a little cough, but she's smiling as she relaxes and settles into the mattress. She takes Foggy's shirt again and gives it a couple tugs in an invitation to lie even with her.

She hasn't quite thought of the right words yet.

Foggy presses a last kiss to her and then comes up, tugging her dress down over her again and smoothing it out. Then he crawls up and flops onto the bed next her, on his back and inviting her to cuddle up if she wants.

She does want, but she hadn't wanted to press. At Foggy's invitation, though, she rolls over so her head is nestled against his chest and drapes a leg over his. She'd missed this connection, and she she lays against him listening to his breathing and his heartbeat, she pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in a contented sigh.

"Probably the best workout I've had since I got here."

Foggy wraps an arm around her, hand on her shoulder and enjoying the feel of her head on his chest.

And gives a huff of amusement. He'd agree, but he's been working in the butcher's, hauling carcasses and chopping them up and it's hard work.

Lying down is nice. Warm.

Anne's been jogging, mostly, and working out here and there in trade for necessities, but nothing too robust.

She's content to just lay there in his embrace letting her body cool down and relax from their adventure. Eventually, though, her hand slides down along his body to rest idly between his legs, gauging his reaction.

By the time Anne starts moving, Foggy is out cold. He's made his way through a sizeable portion of the infinite bar and now that he's stopped and laid down...

Well, the booze wouldn't have done other parts of his performance much good, anyway. But as is, he's just slack and out for the count.

In her own (not quite as intense) drunken stupor, it takes Anne a couple moments to realize that he's sleeping and not just disinterested. Once that's obvious, though, she smiles, and then leans up to kiss his cheek before carefully extracting herself. While it'd be nice to just doze off with him, he'd had quite a bit to drink and when he resurfaced he was going to need some water.

Still feeling a little like jelly, she finds her discarded pantyhose and underwear, choosing not to keep the former and draping them over the bed. She pulls on her shoes, takes one last look at Foggy resting comfortably on the plush bed, then heads out to see what she can find in the way of water.

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