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Chasing Peace

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She had been easy. She had been buxom and pretty enough to accept a half-serious offer, drunk on the fumes of cigars and whiskey as they swam together, gyrating and twisting through the half-speed jazz coming from the gramophone in the corner. H, she had whispered,call me H. 

When he had finally taken her away from the party, pulled her knickers off and thrown them aside, his fingers tracing up and down the drawn-on stocking stains across her legs, he delved into her, no gentleness, no ceremony, just hard and fast, his fingers and tongue pushing at her apex, begging for peace in the sounds of her cries. He was at rest when he was enjoying a woman, tasting them, touching them, moulding them to his expectations, fucking them. He wanted for nothing and he craved only the soft sounds of their sobs as they begged for more. More of him, more of this, never, let me go. 

She squirmed underneath his fingers as he pushed again, curling them as he dragged a final shriek out of her, her body spasming around his fingers as he lowered his lips to her bud and sucked one more time, her hips bucking up against his face as he let out a soft moan at the taste of her. She had her piece. Now he wanted his peace.

Since Hester his world had been topsy turvy, all emotions and frankness and honesty, his ability to hide his thoughts from the world all gone, stripped way by the heartlessness, by the selfishness of that woman.The Woman, if he could steal a phrase from Conan Doyle. He barked out a laugh as he thought of it, helping H onto her stomach and pulling her up onto her knees.

“No, no, sweet thing, I’m not laughing at you,” He was laughing at the one who had bested him. Imagining her face as he told her he wasreading. Bettering himself. Not just a stupid pilot anymore. “Just a stray thought.”

She moaned lazily under him and for a few moments, he toyed with the curve of her backside – thank God for the end of rationing – and stroked himself to tease. The edges of blankness played at the corners of his mind and he tried to cling to them, trying to push away the need to speak, the need to play, the need to be larger than life Freddie Page. He could just be a boy again, fumbling in the dark as he fucked woman after woman, thinking with his dick, rather than – God forbid – his heart.

He lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers into her ponytail, blinking his eyes in silent thanks that she had scraped it back and given him a rein to hold. He plunged into her and squirmed slightly, seating himself as deep as possible in one thrust and feeling his vision white out entirely.

“Oh!” He moaned, feeling the slickness tight around him and sliding his free hand up her side to grip her breast. This was how he wanted it. This was the peace he asked for, pure sensation, no thought, just pounding flesh as they came together as a unit. It was, in a way, like flying with his old squadron, dodging bullets and slaying his demons in the form of Messerchmitts, Junkers and anything else that came their way. There was no individual thought, no time for worries or fears, just protocol and peace, and the occasional little shit that got away. Freddie always wanted to peel off, take on those bastards on his own, and let the thrill overtake him, wipe his mind clean, but it wasn’t time, and there was never an order to go go, go, like there was now.

“Freddie, please,” She begged, full of him and wanting more, reeling from her first peak and chasing a second release like there was no tomorrow. Oblivious to his oblivion, she shattered the blankness, his nirvana gone as her voice broke their silence. Frustrated, he shoved his hips into hers, roaring as he pressed her face into the pillows, grunting as he pounded into her and revelled in the sounds of her moans. There would be no peace tonight, neither inside, nor outside that hotel room, but he would chase blankness. Chase the simple blankness that led to peace and relaxation.

So he fucked her. Harder and harder as she squealed and bucked, back onto the length of his cock as he pulled her hair and twisted her nipples, thrusting faster as he felt her gripping him tighter, her thighs tensing as she neared her release.

Moments later, he was treated to the most exquisite torture, her body clenching around him and her moans turning to whimpers as she came, but it was never quite enough. Taking his pleasure now, he leaned over her, knowing this would all but hurt as he played with her sensitive flesh and took all that he could.

As he filled her, his eyes squeezed tight and his nails digging into her shoulders, he felt the edges of his vision blur a little and white tint the edges of his vision. He was satisfied, if a little exhausted, as he fell back onto the bed beside her, fingers tracing across her still-taut nipples as his eyes fluttered closed.

Peace would come one day, but for now, this was enough.