A/N: Ah, let's see what's the usual... Apologies for major errors that are usually made when the writer is drunk, reviews are always appreciated when smut is involved (tell me to stop if it's just not working!!), and mmm, I love season six.
Disclaimer: I don't even own a bottle of wine. Well, anymore. I own nothing.
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She imagined that there would be the sound of the surf outside of their window all the time. That there would be sun coming through the windows (which she pictured covered in billowy white curtains), but it would always be just the perfect temperature, or maybe just a little too warm.
She pictured them shutting themselves away from the world and turning off the phone, using every lock, shedding every layer and remembering everything about the other for a week. She had looked at his face, his bright and easy smile on the plane just inches from hers, and had seen all of this. Just in his anticipating smile, his hand that hadn't let go of hers since he put a ring on it, and the sweet way that the clouds and sunshine framed his face from the window behind him.
The sky was that pretty blue color that doesn't seem real, and their hotel room faced the ocean. Now and then, when you looked outside, you'd see a tourist skimming the backdrop with the thirty-dollar parasailing available up and down the beach. The tiny person in a clear blue sky, San Juan etched across the parachute, looked like a postcard in motion. Jim snapped a sloppy picture of it after she'd mentioned that.
Other than that, a lot of her little images in her mind weren't exactly spot on, but she had a million others that could work in rain or shine, Puerto Rico or anywhere. She had these ideas of Jim in her head which made her feel excitement like their first date, or the first time she'd seen him with his shirt off, among other things.
She definitely felt like the unattractive half, reaching into bags that were tucked away in her suitcase at night. She was behind the bathroom door, listening to the hum of his voice, words she couldn't make out, just low enough to make her feel like she should be working on the task at hand at a quicker pace.
Now and then she'd hear a "So..." or a gentle, tired laugh from him as he talked to his mother about their trip down there. It was the only thing that had gone one hundred percent smoothly this whole weekend. Well, actually, that wasn't true if she looked back. Their seats had been split up and Jim had to pay someone to switch. It was actually sweet, considering Pam had been nauseated and annoyed at someone traveling alone who wouldn't simply switch seats, but waved it off, telling Jim it was fine, that she would see him in a couple of hours. He stopped her when she reached up for a kiss and asked the man again, telling him that he just wanted to hold his pregnant wife's hand during the flight.
She didn't remember the rest of the exchange, only letting her face melt into a smile and her eyes dreamily watch his features as Jim bribed the older man for a switch.
Truthfully, there had been a few things going wrong, but she smiled at the thought that they just weren't too noticeable sometimes; easy to put away from the mind, and that way of thinking made her smile again, the mirror reflecting it back to her.
She groaned as she picked at the items in the bags she brought, feeling hardly sexy enough to wear anything she'd brought along. It was awkward enough to buy them, which at least she'd been smart enough to wait for. She wanted to anticipate "showing," trying to factor in a little growth, so she didn't buy anything too soon. However, standing next to a girl ten years younger than her, but twice as pregnant, buying the same outfit made her long for more confidence.
In the end, she bought something black, something red, and something purple. Black and red just seemed like they were supposed to be had, and purple because of the underwear she'd worn a long time ago around him. It was the first time she'd ever felt pretty comfortable in his space. They didn't have sex that night; she climbed into bed with him after a long day of work with only a t-shirt on over her bra and panties. She woke up very early in the morning in summer heat, shedding the t-shirt before walking to the bathroom.
Returning, she gasped when he sleepily pulled her too him and clutched at the fabric before glancing down.
He sighed into her skin, murmuring purple as he traced the edges with his fingertips. She just smiled and raised her eyebrows, and purple was his favorite from then on out. They did have sex that morning, twice, and afterward he declared his love for purple.
She was at the point where she could walk around naked in front of him (although she never got too far before she was tackled or wrapped up in his hands). And he was never quiet about his love for her body, making her blush all shades of pink visible in the dark. But, the problem was this little tummy she'd finally acquired. It had sneaked up on them, because it wasn't just a tubby little belly anymore. It was a firm addition to her front side, but it wasn't too the point where she looked pregnant. And the in-between made her feel like she was misshapen clay, like her body was just in that odd state of here or there.
She slowly took off all her clothes, and began running her fingers through her curls and letting them fall, feeling the skin on her scalp relax. She held up each item over her body, poking at her abdomen and feeling like she'd be too big to fit into the lace and silk by the time they left the island. She groaned again and weighed the options in her hands. Purple?
It was draped over her naked form when there was a small knock on the bathroom door.
"Pam? Hey, my mom says hi... What are you doing in there?"
She loved his voice so much that it made her smile, made her more eager to squeeze into all the silky things in her hands. As she fitted the purple cloth onto her body, she sucked in a breath.
"Just putting some pajamas on. I'm just... I'm so tired. I'll be out in a second. I put your suitcase behind the counter."
"Oh, okay, thanks." She heard his footsteps away from the door, and hoped maybe she'd disappointed him slightly; she wanted a reaction out of him, just a little surprise.
A girl in high school had told her that pale skin and red hair went with purple well. Small things stick in your mind, and that comment always had. She didn't care about it until that morning when Jim fell in love with purple (and, sequentially, she did, too), but looking at her reflection in the mirror, she's glad she chose the color. It's rich, romantic and luscious version of purple. She wanted him to itch to dig his fingers into it, she wanted him to feel torn between making love to her with or without it on.
She breathed deeply traced her hands over her body one more time. Her hands rested on her belly for just a split second, like it always did at night when she remembered to think of how far they'd come and what they were embarking on. She lightly pressed her fingers into the fabric there and closed her eyes, sleep overcoming her since she'd risen that morning.
She shook herself from her thoughts and scratched her belly once. This was her honeymoon, and all thoughts were love and purple and sweetness and touching right now.
When she opened the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed setting an alarm on his cell phone and his face was perfect.
He saw her standing there, and it was a wonderful thing. The blinds and the window were open, and all you could hear was the occasional shouts of locals and tourists below. It was nothing romantic, but it totally was, because it was far enough away from everything, to the point where just the two of them was just the two of them.
She was just standing, adorable and shy and sexy and dusky-eyed, in the bathroom doorway. The hush of one of the yellow lights behind her barely made it past the door's frame. She bit her lip and pulled at the silk on her side, one of her feet resting on top of the other. One of her hands fell against the wall next to her and she looked up at him for approval.
She was bathed in the color he associated with her always, purple here and there, and it was the kind of color he felt like he just had to feel for himself. Purple was the color that belonged in between his fingers, against his lips, pulled away with his teeth, and massaged with his palms. Purple was always standing in front of him like she just didn't know what that smile was doing to him. Purple was always changing his life, and all he did was lunge after it in lust and love and satisfaction. It was their honeymoon, and he had to show her why he brought her here, why she was the missing piece to everything in his life and why that stupid color was making him lose his mind.
"Yes," he murmured simply, placing his palms on his bare knees. She took it as a cue and made her way over to him slowly.
"Do you like it?" she asked, almost looking confused.
There were one hundred and one totally cliche things he could say to her, things that were too trite to not be followed by laughter -- and he didn't want any of that then.
"Uh, yeah," he said, too aware of how rough and low his voice was.
His response elicited a giggle from Pam as she looked down at his feet next to hers, curling her hair behind her ear and grinning. Scratch that; the laugh was the best part.
He reached up for the hand behind her ear and pulled her down. She always had the best look on her face when he surprised her like that. She looked like she couldn't keep up, a little overwhelmed, maybe surprised, but needing it as much as he did. His lips parted, waiting for hers like he always did. She touched her mouth to his, barely kissing him until he let go of her hand, touching all the purple he could find (his fingers did the searching, he rarely kissed her with his eyes open).
She sighed into him before he pulled away and stretched his arms around, pushing his lips into hers again. This was his favorite kind of kiss. It was slow, and it was a beginning, slowly getting to the point where they knew everything would just be too good to comprehend fully later on. They would be breathing open-mouthed, so as their lips met, they'd be just slightly cooled, relying on each other's enthusiasm to catch warmth.
Everything she did was sexy to him, especially coated in purple. She slowly, without breaking the kiss, bent one knee (elegantly, in the way she usually did) and and rested it on his left side, the right following as she rested her hands on his shoulders. He grabbed her hips and lowered her onto his lap, then he couldn't help himself. His arms came up and around her, all around, sighing at the cool touch of the silk as he cradled her against him. She sank into his body, kissing him perfectly, her lips moving over his in the way that she liked: slowly, softly and smoothly like she knew would surely do him in.
Her hands left his shoulders and pushed into his hair. He felt all of her fingertips, the soft pads of them absently roaming the skin there. She sat her thumbs against his ears, pulling his lips further into hers. They had discussed this before, this thing about kissing being one of the best parts. He remembered telling her this, as she scoffed and said all guys said that to look like romantics, to make girls into mush. He hadn't told her anymore about it, just showed her how much he could love kissing her. That was the day that she begged him to make love to her on her living room floor.
She plucked at his shirt, her lips never leaving his (just pulling away, almost all the way back, and coming back onto him, pushing into his to feel the flesh of them somewhere deep) until he let go of her and tugged it off. He gently placed his hands and arms around her again as he sat there in his boxers, and rocked back until they were lying on the bed. Pam still straddled him, but he felt like showing her a million things tonight. He tipped them and ended up on top of her.
A short time later, he was between her legs, looking up at her sated smile, hair too beautiful to be contained neatly, as his hands rested heavily on her inside thighs. She had one leg bent just slightly, the other flat against the sheets he'd exposed before she came out of the bathroom. Her cheeks were flushed and her arm was flung over her forehead in that sexy state of something like exhaustion and surrender that always accompanied her arousal. He was kissing up to her thighs from her knees, and he could hear her toes flexing in anticipation and pure desire. With his eyes fluttering closed in preparation for another trail of light kisses on her other leg, all he could make out of above him was a beautiful blur of purple.
So fitting that purple was the color of the wine that she had licked off his lips hours before, in that terrible, crappy airport.
She gave him a deep sigh. She was beautiful when she wanted this, when she waited for it. She stretched her toes towards the foot of the bed and waited for him. She relaxed and sprawled across the bed, limbs slack and tempting, whenever she knew what she wanted and knew it was coming. He felt compelled to give her so many things in life. He wanted to give her a beautiful home (that he was slowly working on), help her achieve anything she wanted, bring gorgeous little boys and girls into the world with her, make her feel important everyday... All these things, all meshed together and wound up, spread through his veins as he looked up at her now; he only wanted to show her one thing with all of this feeling coursing through his body, he just had to show her this.
Of all the things purple and love and history and life and forever and needs and wants and futures...
His fingertips felt swollen, almost too puffy as he placed them against her inner thighs. She was breathing heavily, that cute bump rising and falling steadily. His hands moved up her thighs slowly, catching onto the pretty panties she wore and hooking his fingers under the straps. He removed them, allowing his fingers to drag down her skin as they were pulled away. She raised her hips and adjusted so they were soon on the floor next to his boxers. When she heard the almost inaudible thud against the carpet, she writhed and breathed out, that serene way that she always did.
She peered down at him from under her hand as he stared at her, the area exposed now, considerably less purple. He inched up further, his fingers traveling up onto her sides.
His lips were against her inner thigh when he spoke, all of her creamy skin shaping his words. "You know I love this color."
His breath cascaded all over her center, all over her hips and thighs and maybe even the back of her knees somehow. "I know," she whispered, urging him on.
His fingertips lightly touched her again, helping her spread her legs. They fell open as she rolled her neck back.
His kisses close enough, the point where he could turn his face and he'd be right there. She knew it, reaching down to lightly touching his hair before shrinking her hands back and letting them fall all over her.
"Hmm," he moaned, feather-light kisses still all over her thighs as his fingers made circles on skin so close to her, the place where she was wet and glistening and waiting for him.
"Jim," she whimpered, reaching down to rest her hand on the top of his head. "Come on..."
He looked up from his kiss, his lips swollen and throbbing. "Hmm?"
"Stop," she begged.
"Stop?" he asked on a breath, a slanted smile overcoming him as he laid his hot cheek against her skin. She drew in a breath and shook her head, pursing her lips.
"No, don't stop," she said quietly. "Just..."
He tilted his head up to kiss the wrist that was above him before coaxing her legs apart further. She surrendered to another moan, the soles of her feet finding the backs of his thighs at the end of the bed and rubbing them impatiently.
He couldn't ever deny her anything, really. He could barely hold out on her.
His lips and their kisses made their way closer to her center, finally putting his two thumbs against her. She breathed loudly, wonderfully and overly sensitive as she was lately. Her hands clenched into fists and spread apart.
He had to watch her face when he pulled her lips apart, exposing her wetness to him. She froze and her face stopped, waiting to move again when she felt his breath against her. She moaned loudly, one leg bending wildly while the other remained limp. His eyes rested on her beautiful, half-naked form before he closed his eyes. He just can't kiss her with open eyes, so they were closed when his tongue touched her, and the only sound was the slick of his tongue meeting the soft pink in front of him.
She really moaned then, her arms letting go of his hair, reaching up and curling above her, cupping one of her breasts, and finally coming back to hold him against her. Jim earnestly licked her, long strokes and kisses and even just swiping his lips against her. He could never get enough of her like that.
When he found her clit, she nearly cried out, but he had to touch her there. he rubbed it, slowly but not completely gently, with his thumb before he replaced it with his lips. They formed around it and he pulled, sucked on it with light force. She twisted her body up and slightly away from him. he blindly reached for her hips, bracing her against the bed as he loved her in that way, between her legs, his hands against her warm, flushed skin.
His eyes fluttered open for a moment and he met her gaze. She begged him.
Being pregnant had magnified all of these feelings by so much, that she literally didn't know how to work herself when she was this distracted. She'd told him this early on, and Jim had only set out to make the best of it, determined to please her in every way to reap the benefits.
She was a somewhat more emotional during sex, too. As Jim's lips and tongue moved over her, and his fingers slowly eased into her, her eyes squeezed shut and the colors started to swirl. She felt the sensations every time now and all that came to her was life inside of her and feeling too lucky and being so pleased, and feeling so good and content and turned on and satisfied.
As Jim's fingers pushed into her, she felt that coil start to turn and tempt to unravel. She closed her eyes harder, shifting her body to press down onto his hand. When she responded like that, he took it as a cue and as she drew her legs up with bent knees, he grasped her hips and pulled her to his mouth.
"Oh," slipped off of her lips and fell into the love he was giving her, his mouth covered in her, the sensations too much for her. It was a wonderfully numb feeling, too intense and slowly reaching her breaking point. He started to get rougher with his movements, his whole routine now rather than the chaste kisses and broad licks and strokes from before.
She started to tremble, feeling it coming, and it broke inside of her like a wave pushed onto the beach below them. She curled her hips up into them, which Jim greedily accepted, and rocked her head back to rest the top of it into the pillow. She groaned loudly, a long noise the stretched and echoed around the room, as it split through her, the feeling slowly spreading and falling away through her hips and legs.
Her body fell back against the clean sheets, as her hands clutched anywhere for him. Her inched up her body, touching his wet and swollen lips to hers. She lacked the energy to kiss him back, and he chuckled. Her face was flushed and serious, gloriously spent, as her breathing struggled to keep up.
He pressed kisses into her reddened cheeks, her sweaty forehead, her pouty lips. He lingered on her lips, waiting for her tired form to respond. She finally kissed back, that cool feeling on her lips again from breathing too hard, and they sank into each other.
It was so quiet, it just became their breathing and the hum of the air conditioning.
She stretched her fingers into his hair around his ears, now that he was finally lying next to her. She kissed him, thanking him and loving him, before her eyes shut again and she smiled.
"I love this color," he whispered against her collarbone, pausing when his lips wanted to leave a mark. He pulled away and seemed satisfied to see the small pink shadow left there. "...But you're wearing just too much of it..."
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Okay, the ending is corny. But, damn, no one was jumping on the smutwagon here. Come on now, honeymoon smut needs to be happening. That's your assignment, go on!
Reviews are always appreciated, but especially with the sexy stuff, because I feel like it's hardest/most awkward. Let me know if I should ever bother with this kind of thing again!
yanana is the author of 39 other stories.
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