This Summer (GarouxReader lemon)

This Summer

I'm not sure what this is really ^.^'' I just took a walk around a different part of town and the sun was shining and everything was lovely and came home and typed this up.

Yes, it's an older woman story :) If age difference is not your thing then I'd probably stop here.

Having said that, the older woman(reader) doesn't have a specified age so feel free to imagine yourself/her whatever over 18 age you'd like! ^.^

xoxo

LaReinette

P.S. Oh yeah, forgot to mention of course...this story contains sexually explicit material and such haha! I think that's pretty expected by now but thought I'd say it just in case. :D

~*~

He will get up in the afternoon summer heat, naked from your bed, in front of the half closed curtains rustling softly in the rare breeze. Something, an insect or a stray ray of light, has disturbed his sleep, that perfect deep nap after an hour of unexpected, yet so characteristic, lovemaking that seems to happen every time he's around.

Something has made him sit up, get out of your bed, your white linen sheets. Your eyes open, barely, still in your own dream world, and watch him walk over to the window, the subtle ripple of muscle down his back, his thighs in the thick summer afternoon sun pushing through the gap you left in the billowing curtains.

He'll throw the window open even further, but this will not cool your bedroom, the summertime air the same inside and out.

And you watch him, too peaceful, too relaxed to move, your hair spread around you in beautiful disarray on the pillow.

And when he's done fixing whatever it was that made him frown and drew him away from you, he'll turn and walk back, a swagger, a cocky grin, back to bed, back to you, perfectly aware of you watching him in all his undressed glory.

His approach can't help but make you turn over, stretch out onto your back, exposed skin against a patch of cool linen that will soon heat up. He'll make sure of that. And so will you.

You feel the warmth of his body slide onto yours, muscles smooth and hard, pressing against you, starting slow, another round. Thinks he can take his time, prolong the pleasure for all its worth, but this is a self-control he has not yet mastered. Will not admit that. But you feel the weight of him pressing into you, a sense of hot impatience starting, lips on your neck as your legs spread just a little more to accommodate him and his wayward desire.

The summer afternoon heat, the faint smell of freshly cut grass from somewhere. Thick, cotton wool clouds hazy through the drapes. And this boy with a body that's anything but, this boy who has grown up much too fast, on top of you, his tongue grazing slowly up your neck as you feel his full, unapologetic erection against that soft, delicate part of you. He pushes it against you, not yet inside, waiting for the invitation as you lace your fingers through his.

This is a summer like no other.

The first summer in years that the days don't pass in a warm, melancholic loneliness. Maybe not quite loneliness. There is always the dog. Who loves him too, of course.

And it all started with a broken window frame in the cold winter rain. A boy passing by in the local school uniform, worn in that effortlessly devil may care way. A real delinquent. No pretense. Help from an unexpected source. A decision made on impulse watching you struggle. Stands with you in the rain and the wind as if completely unbothered by the cold of the elements.

The dog doesn't help, jumping in excitement on him, leaving muddy streaks on the white of his shirt. He pays it no mind. Not to the mud or the wet, freezing fabric clinging to his skin. Helps you with a temporary fix so that the same rain and wind doesn't reach inside. You don't look like you could handle it.