For you two (TFATF/XXX-Crossover)

He bent forward, taking me with him in the process, and started to move again.

It took merely a few strokes more than before, this time combined with his fingers working on my clit from the front, his arm wrapped around my waist; and I came again. Not as hard as the last time, but really close to that.

"Damn, what's up with you?" He laughed. "This is not going to work. Can't keep up with your speed, Dana. No way I'm going to come that fast."

"Sorry." I chuckled. "Can't help it."

"You're aware that if you don't have a damn good insulation in this house, the whole neighborhood will greet me by my name in the morning?"

"Shit." I laughed.

"Want to try it again?"

"If you're not tired..." I replied.

"I promised you a night, Dana. So far, you only had about an hour..." He laughed. "But I think we might have to change something; not only to keep us - or you, rather - entertained a bit longer, but also to keep us both a bit more quiet - honestly, after this, I don't know how loud I will be when I come... Hold still, I'll move you."

His arms wrapped around my waist and he laid me down to the floor sideways, staying behind me, never slipping out of me for even just an inch.

"That better?"

I turned my head a bit to see him smiling at me, his head propped on one of his hands.

"Very good." I said. "I think I could kiss you from this angle."

"Try it." The other hand was placed on my stomach, the fingers circling on my skin in slow moves.

I twisted my body a bit, then used one of my hands to pull his head down to me. His lips touched mine; his tongue found its way into my mouth while the fingers of his hand traced the side of my lips. Clicking. I found that I was getting used to it.

Then he started to move inside of me again.

He still brushed over that spot, but it seemed a bit less than before. Perhaps it was also that I was getting used to it.

I hope not, I thought.

Then his hand found its way down my stomach, between my legs; and his fingers started to massage my clit with short, quick strokes of his fingertips.

Damn, that reminded me of his tongue...

I moaned into his mouth; he moaned back.

He pushed into me faster and deeper; I would have screamed if I could but the sound was caught by his mouth.

I had to breathe. More. Air. But I couldn't get away from his mouth, so I tried to suck in as much air as I could through my nose, letting it out in short, loud moans into his mouth.

Then the hand that had been near my face sneaked around my lower shoulder and started to pinch my nipple with his fingers. Twisting, rolling, teasing, hurting a bit. I cried out - into his mouth.

For a moment I thought of Dom, whom I always had to tell that he should do it harder. The thought was gone as quickly as it had come.

Xander's lips left mine; I heard him breathing fast. "Don't think I can do this much longer, Dana." He gasped.

"Don't think that either." I replied in a similar manner.

"Damn, you're so hot." He said and bit down into my neck. "Like it a bit rough, hmmm?"

"Sometimes a bit, sometimes a bit more." I groaned.

"How much 'more', Dana?" He breathed, slowly moving inside of me.

"Much more, Xander." I managed to get out.

"Gotta show me that when we're finished with this one." He said and then started to pound into me after his mouth had caught mine again.

I screamed out; he changed the angle a bit and started to brush over that particular spot - hard.

"Come with me, Dana. Let's pay Saturn a visit." He moaned into my mouth.

Two, three, four more strokes, and my brain blacked out again. Fireworks... and then I felt him coming. Not only felt, but heard him, too.

"Gods... Dana!" He cried and let himself go; his fingers digging into my skin; his teeth biting down into my shoulder so hard to muffle his cry that I thought he was drawing blood.

Not that it mattered, though; I was still way too high to not enjoy this.

When I came to my senses again I found that he was kissing the tears from my cheek. I turned my head a bit, just to see his flushed face covered in sweat, the eyes closed while he was still trying to catch his breath. He looked... utterly beautiful.

"Xander..." I whispered, lifted my hand up and touched his face.

"What was that?" He sighed and looked at me.

"Likewise." I chuckled a bit, still trying to catch my breath.

He snorted. "I rarely come like this, believe me. And that should mean something."

"Well, I never came like this, and that should mean something, too, Xander."

"Kidding me?" He kissed my cheek again.

"No, I really mean it." I said and looked into his eyes.

"Do you regret anything?"

"Is there anything I should regret?" I asked.

"Not really." He laughed. "Well, perhaps... this..." He traced my shoulder with his hand. I twisted my head to be able to see it, the deep red teeth marks hurt a bit under his touch.

"Like that; some kind of temporary tattoo." I shrugged.

"Doesn't that hurt?" He asked.

"Well, yeah, a bit now and I assume more tomorrow; but that will just be a reminder that this here wasn't a dream." I chuckled.

He looked at me for a long minute, stroking my hurting shoulder carefully with his fingers.

"Say.... I'm so full of adrenaline... wanna go for a ride with me?"

"Uhm, didn't we just..." I asked confused.

He laughed out louder. "I meant on my bike, Dana."

I just snorted. "Sure, any time you feel like it. Just have to locate my helmet. And somewhere I should have proper clothing too. Should just take a few minutes."

Of course it took more than just a few minutes - it took almost half an hour.

First Xander showered while I was searching for my clothes; then I showered while he was trying to distract me - successfully, by the way - and then I had to dress. Which, of course, happened in a locked bathroom this time, with him cursing, begging and whispering lots of dirty things to the door, which just made me sweat again.

When I finally opened the door he just stared at me.

"What?" I asked. "Anything wrong? That's not ordinary leather; the trousers and jacket have built in protectors, in case you should..."

He pulled me to him and kissed me hard before I could finish the sentence, one hand squeezing one of my breasts through the leather of the jacket.

"Damn, you look hot in leather, anyone ever told you that?"

"Lots of people, in fact; even your brother likes me in leather. Though he has just seen me in blue, never in black." I laughed.

He looked at me, from top to bottom, frowned and shook his head.

"Something's missing." He finally said.

"The helmet should be down in..." I said, not really knowing what he meant.

"No, that's not what I meant. Do you have... any red lipstick and black eyeliner or something?"

"HUH?"

"Just tell me where you have that stuff and let me apply it." He sighed.

"You want to put makeup on my face?" I chuckled.

"Sure, why not. Am good at doing that. Like doing that, actually." Xander smiled and stroked over my cheek with his thumb; letting me hear the clicking of his rings. "Let me do that, please? For you?"

Five minutes later I was allowed to take a look at the mirror. And almost jumped back in shock.

That face there wasn't mine.

Interesting what a man was able to do with just red lipstick and a black eyeliner, both not necessarily applied in the places they were supposed to be. Not ugly, not uneven... just...

"Interesting." I breathed.

"As interesting as you." He said and kissed my neck. "Let's go."

Outside I could take a first look at the bike he had bought and not help but whistle through my teeth. "BMW?" I asked, walking around it.

"R 100 GS Paris Dakar." He replied grinning while he put the helmet on his head. "Always wanted one, but here they're almost hilariously cheap."

"Don't know much about bikes, Xander, but this one wasn't cheap, that I can tell. Even if it's December and probably everyone else except of you in Germany would rather keep their bikes in the garage instead of buying them. Say - what was your profession again?"

He laughed out loud. "This and that. Nothing too interesting."

"Probably as 'not interesting' as this bike was 'cheap'." I grumbled and sat down behind him.

"Take off your gloves." He said.

"Why, it's cold and I don't want to have my fingers frozen."

"Don't question me, Dana. Take them off."

I shrugged and did as I was told.

"Now look for the pockets in my jacket. Open the zippers." He ordered. "There, good. Now - there is another zipper inside of each pocket. Open that, too and stick your hands through the openings."

Again I did as I was told and was surprised that I could now feel the fabric of his shirt.

"Pull that shirt up. Want to feel your hands on my skin, Dana."

And that skin felt so good under my hands... I moved my fingers over his stomach; traced the muscles.

"Hmmm, that's good. Now - when you're riding a bike with me, I want you to feel what my body is doing, and do the same in return. Don't know how many bikes you've been on, Dana; but I ride mine a bit different from how most other people do it. If you move different from how I move, I might not be able to control the bike any more. You must become one with me on this bike, did you get that?"

"Yes, Xander." I replied and felt like a schoolgirl. What the hell did he mean by saying 'different from how most other people ride their bikes'? What could there be so 'different' in moving an engine on two wheels that coincidentally had a seat on it?

"Good, then let's go."

He started the engine and drove off.

It took just two slight turns on the road for me to find out what he had meant.

That man didn't ride his bike; and I wasn't holding on to a man here.

It seemed as if man and machine had joined in some kind of biomechanic junction and that I was now holding on to both of them when I dug my fingers into the muscles of Xander's stomach just to not fall off the bike.

With Michael I could always drive with my hands on my thighs, I thought. Sometimes Michael had removed one of his hands from the handlebars and had held on to my knee.

Unthinkable with Xander. The way he was driving he needed both hands.

I knew why he had told me to feel him. This was the only way how I could feel how his muscles were moving, how he expected me to move. That would have been impossible without the holes in his pockets or with me wearing gloves.

He just drove around, clearly without any real place to go; sometimes on the streets, sometimes over fields, sometimes though small parks or forests. It took quite some time for me to get used to his way of driving, but when I finally understood how I had to move, I became more confident in moving with him without practically having to tear his abs out with my fingernails.

My hands started to wander over his stomach, alternately tickling and kneading the muscles and skin I could feel.

So beautiful and soft.

His jacket was comfortable enough for me to relatively freely move my arms, which were now inside of his jacket up to my elbows. Then I had one of my weird ideas and stuck the fingers of my left hand out of the jacket's waist for a moment until I felt that they had become cold.

Without touching him on my way back inside with my fingers I let my hand slide right up to his chest until I could feel his nipple under my palm, then touched it with my cold fingers.

He hit the brake for a short moment that pressed me tighter to him, and I could feel him chuckling - hearing was so out of question with the bike, the speed and the helmet.

I teased that nipple with my fingers, then pinched it a bit and could feel him lean back to me, his back slowly moving sideways on my torso.

I pinched him a bit harder, let my right hand slide down his belly until I was tracing the edge of his trouser's waistband and tickled the skin there with the nail of my index finger.

He retracted his belly a bit in reply, giving me just enough space to slide into the trousers with my fingers.

So warm. So wonderfully soft...

The other hand still on his chest I pushed my hand deeper into his trousers, stroked the trail of soft curls of hair that went down from his bellybutton.

Then I found his already hard length; when my fingers touched his head I felt him inhale sharply and, again, hit the brake for a moment. I wasn't sure if he did that consciously or if it was his body, his unity with the machine that caused this.

I circled the head with my fingers, slowly, teasing and felt that he was driving a bit slower. Not so much concentration left for the high speed, hmmm? I thought to myself, mentally chuckling and let my middle finger slide up and down his length while I cupped the head with my palm. Damn, I thought, if I just had more space to move...

He stopped the bike at the side of a country lane, took his helmet off and turned his face around to me.

"Dana..." He said, his eyes closed, the head tilted back to my shoulder. "...you like the cold much?"

"Why?" I asked, not happy about the fact that I was still wearing the helmet, but also unwilling to remove my hands from his jacket and trousers to take it off.

"Just because I think that I'll have to fuck you in a few minutes if you don't stop this." He chuckled. "And unless you know some warm inside place to go very near, I think I'll have to do that outside."

"I'm wearing trousers, Xander." I chuckled back.

"Think that could stop me? I could take them off..." His hands kneaded their way up my legs, from the knees upwards.

"Uhm - probably not really. But maybe the fact that if you fuck me without trousers outside now, I'll probably have pneumonia by tomorrow?"

"Only promised you a night, Dana. I don't care about tomorrow." He replied very calm.

Somehow that comment brought me back to earth; especially because he didn't chuckle it out like almost everything else he said. He meant it; and the comment had just been there to remind me of the fact that no matter how close we were now, tomorrow we would be apart again.

I breathed in and out, thought about it. Damn, I thought, let's at least finish this night together; tomorrow is another day for worries...

"I think I know where we could drive. There's a club nearby I've often visited with Michael some years ago. Built into an old factory; very cool. Many different kinds of music, lots of hiding places."

Hiding places, I thought. Just what I could need right now.

"You tell me which way to go?" He asked, and I nodded. "Good, and... don't you dare taking your hand out of my trousers." He chuckled, put his helmet back up again and drove off.

I tried to touch him in the playful way I had done before but didn't quite manage. I just couldn't get the thought out of my mind that by the morning, Xander would perhaps be gone.

Fuck, I thought. Stop thinking about it. Just stop thinking about anything, and you'll have the best time of your life.

It took us barely ten minutes to get to the club; it was definitely full considering the number of cars in the parking lot. Muffled, but obviously loud music could be heard from the large old building.

"Cool building." Xander said when he took off his helmet while parking the bike by the entrance - the only bike, of course - no one in his or her sane mind would drive a bike on an evening as cold as this. "Old factory, you said? Looks great."

Xander was searched by the bouncers at the entrance. The first man I had ever seen to be searched by them; and I had been there probably a hundred times with Michael and various other people. Finally they let us pass, we dropped jackets and helmets at the wardrobe and I started to lead him through the building.

"Discotheque hall!" I shouted at him to be louder than the music. "Let's go around there and down there, there are some other halls here, too."

He followed me, one hand always on my waist; his thumb constantly stroking over my skin.

"Hard rock hall." I said when we arrived there. The music here was a bit less loud; and the room was much smaller but all painted in black. The headbangers were swinging around on the dancefloor; some of them stared admiring at Xander's tattoos.

"I like this. Let's stay here a bit. There, in the corner, the stairs. Sit there; I'll get some drinks."

I felt a bit useless; that man adapted to his surroundings faster than I could look. While I was sitting on top of the stairs that lead to a storage room, he took his time, chatted with the waitress; with two guys who were pointing at his tattoos; but finally, he came back; two glasses of ice water in his hands.

"What the hell should I do with ice water?" I frowned.

"Drink it, Dana. What else?" He took a big sip from his glass while sitting down two stairs lower than me.

"Xander, I don't drink water..." I tried.

"You drink water, Dana. You'll drink this water. Much healthier than your Coke stuff."

I groaned out and tried to get that flavorless fluid down. Fantastic, I thought. Xander's not as perfect as I thought. Doesn't care about me; freaking health fetishist, too...

"Say..." He slipped nearer, leaning his head to my arm. "Did I mention that I like what you're wearing there?" His hand ran over my halter neck leather shirt.

"You didn't, but thanks for mentioning it." I replied.

"Are we a bit pissed, Dana?" He laughed.

"Just a tiny little bit, Xander."

"About what? About me chatting to the waitress, hmmm?" His hand now stroked over my breasts but still remained over the shirt.

Just good that this corner here is rather dark, I thought. As he had hurt me in some kind of way with the pneumonia comment, I thought about how I could hurt him in a likely way.

"No, Xander," I snapped, "I just think you're already becoming boring, that's all."

"Me? Boring?" The dark eyes sparkled with amusement. "I'm not boring. You know that I've been the best ride you ever had."

"Possible, but you're also a self centered bastard." I laughed harsh. "But honestly, people telling me what to eat and people not paying attention to me is what I can get from the others, too. So... just boring, Xander. We should go back to my house or at least back to your bike, you weren't so boring there."

"I'll give you boring." He chuckled, fished one of the ice cubes from his glass and sucked on it while holding it between his fingers; his eyes never leaving mine. "Say..." He said, catching a drop of water from his hand with the tip of his tongue in a manner that made me shiver. "...where exactly were the hiding places you talked about?"

Not like this, Xander, not so easy, I thought. After all you got me far too easy this evening - skillful how you did that, but too easy. I'll teach you to think of me not only tonight, but tomorrow, too...

That, of course, was a quite dangerous game - interesting, but dangerous. What I had so far seen of Xander didn't make me doubt that he would be able to talk another woman - any woman! - out of her pants in the wink of an eye if he wanted to, on the dancefloor, even; and be it just to show me that he could or that he didn't need me to have his fun.

I couldn't estimate how jealous he was or even how important I would be to him to even be worth any jealousy.

I just hoped that I had guessed correctly that he was really interested in spending that night with me, or perhaps even more than that. That the comment about not caring if I got pneumonia or not was just to create some kind of emotional distance for himself; not that he had really meant it.

The worst thing that could happen was that I would find myself standing alone in the club, having to take a cab home. Not too bad. Okay, and then some hours of just thinking how he had touched me, which, undoubtedly, would leave me extremely frustrated if he wasn't there because I couldn't get more.

But I could still try and get one of the guys from here into by bed tonight; not really a problem. Wouldn't be as good, but nevertheless. No one knew me here and...

Oh damn, there was still someone called Dominic in the back of my head, as I suddenly and a bit shocked noticed.

What the fuck, I just had to find out. No way I would give Xander the impression that he could play with me - just play with me, that was.

"Ask the waitress." I snapped, got up and walked over to the dancefloor.