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The Treasure at Home	By : abra Category: S through Z > Tomb Raider Views: 12615 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tomb Raider, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
The treasure at home
Author: Abra de Winter
Disclaimer:The characters Lara and Hillary do not belong to me. I took them from the movies "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider" and "Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life", produced by British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), Eidos Interactive Ltd., KFP Produktions GmbH & Co. KG and several other companies. No money are being made from this story.
Thanks for the encouragement, Sara!
Rating: NC17
Feedback: yes, please
Chapter VI – "Tea" Time
There she was. Walking back and forth in front of Hillary's building. Her ankle had healed, but it still hurt a little, just to remind her of the dark, drafty passage, and of Hillary. Everything reminded her of Hillary. Ever since she had woken up in his bed, and yet without him. She saw traces of his presence everywhere in the castle, and she could feel his touches on her skin every second of every day. She found that she could just not put him out of her mind. Enough. This could not be allowed to go on. She strode to the door and dialled Hillary's apartment number.
"Yes?" Hillary's voice came out of the intercom.
"It's Lara," she said.
"Come on up."
No hesitation. No trace of surprise. Damn him! As steady as a rock. As always.
"Good afternoon, lady Croft. Would you like something to drink?"
'I'd like a beer,' she didn’t say. The reply meant to appal him rose in her mind, but she did not give in to the habit of goading him.
"Tea, please," she said.
She had intended to sound polite and ladylike, the way Hillary had always tried to persuade her to act. What she didn't want was to sound like the teenage Lara Croft who used to follow Hillary around the castle. Lara had spent the days of her convalescence trying to come to terms with her feelings. It had been pretty difficult for her to admit that she had not chosen Hillary to be her first lover just because he was convenient and trustworthy. She had chosen him instinctually as her mate. That meant that all the other men had been a long line of errors. She had gotten it right the first time, and there was no way to improve on perfection It had taken her long enough to reach this unsettling conclusion. Was Hillary willing to accept it?
He returned from the kitchen with the tea, and Lara could not stop staring at him. She hadn’t had much chance to look at him the last time they had met, what with being almost buried alive in a tunnel, and then sedated in the ambulance. She hadn’t seen him out of uniform in years, if she didn’t count the different training outfits. Oh, yes, she had seen him naked a few times – memories which she treasured – but she hadn't seen him dressed casual in a very long time. He looked incredibly attractive in the simple black trousers and grey sweater. He looked unusually real. No longer her servant. Her equal. He also seemed quite composed, unlike her. When he put the tea tray on the table, Lara decided to leave without baring her soul in front of him. Her legs, however, were not responding. She remained seated in the armchair, watching him prepare her cup of tea just the way she liked it, the way he had done for years.
"You’re not asking why I'm here," she said when she couldn't stand the silence any longer.
"Well, m'am," he said, "all you've required of me lately comes down to two things. And I see you're not even touching the tea."
Lara felt the blood draining from her cheeks at the sound of his words. He was right. The last few times they had been together they had either tea, or sex. He pulled the sweater over his head in a lazy, but purposeful gesture. Lara kept looking at him, mesmerized by the sight, and at the same time, shocked by the turn of events. He proceeded to take off his undershirt. When he unbuckled his belt, Lara leapt to her feet. She searched his face for any signs of smugness, but couldn’t find any. All she saw was a shadow of resignation on his otherwise impassive features. She felt the guilt rising inside her. He was probably felt that she was switching him on and off like some battery-powered sex aid. As if all she had to do was order him, and he'd stand to attention. She saw the discreet lump up the front of his trousers, and noticed that he was indeed standing to attention just because she was looking at him.
"You're right," she murmured, and began to undress.
She did it slowly, dropping her clothes one by one with every step she took toward him, until she was standing naked in front of him. Hillary was gaping at her, frozen, but Lara could discern the stirrings in his pants. By the time she had got so close to him that her hardened nipples grazed his chest, his breath was already heavy. She undid his trousers swiftly and shuddered when his half-hardened cock sprung up. He had his pants around his ankles and was about to kick them away, when she knelt before him. She looked up into his eyes. At first, Hillary's confusion seemed sexy, amusing and empowering. Soon, she started to fear the vivid doubt in his gaze, the sensation that he felt unworthy of such an honor. Worst of all, she saw the expectation. He was probably imagining that her performance was going to be spectacular, and she could count on one hand her real life experiences with this particular exercise in pleasure. Her sexual escapades usually came as a conclusion of her adrenaline-filled adventures, and had taken place in all unusual surroundings. Always hot. Always rough. And always fast. Except that perfect first time with Hillary. Lara pushed the memories away. She was afraid of the present, and at the same time she wanted to enjoy it. Nothing had ever felt bad, or awkward with him. She didn't have the experience to impress him, but she was going to take her time and learn what he liked, what he needed, and what drove him crazy.
She had paused for too long. He was about to say something. He was going to stop her. No. Lara encircled his cock in her hand and stroked it gently up and down, while her eyes never left his face. She watched Hillary's mouth ineffectively trying to shape a protest. He was looking into her eyes, letting her see his doubts melt away in flames of desire. She couldn’t believe how hard he was getting under her fingers. Or how big. Her breathing quickened, all of a sudden, she was nervous again. But it was a special kind of nervousness, made more of desire and less of fear. She licked her lips looking at the swollen, glistening knob protruding from her fist. She leaned her head toward it and swirled her tongue around the thick head of his cock. Hillary closed his eyes unable to stand the delicious assault on his senses. She strengthened her grip on his smooth, yet iron-hard dick, and she felt it throbbing in her fist. She passed her full lips across the bulbous tip of his huge shaft.
"Oooh," Hillary growled in a lust-thickened voice.
His fingers were now planted firmly in her thick, long hair. Lara bobbed her head up and down, sucking gently as much of his shaft that was not currently in her right hand. Her left hand was caressing the back of his thigh, higher and higher, until she reached his firm, contracted buttocks. Hillary's lusty groans, the feel of him in her mouth, his taste on her tongue, his intimate, musky aroma were overwhelming her senses. She pulled her head back and his cock slid out of her mouth with a faint pop. Lara felt Hillary clamping her head in his hands tighter, but he somehow stopped himself slamming back in her mouth. She curtailed his disappointed grunt when she began to trace a think, pulsating vein along the length of his shaft. She licked it up and down as if it were the most delicious lollipop she had ever tasted, interrupting the long slides of her tongue to flicker it fast over his heavy balls. When she took them in her mouth, she barely managed to snake her tongue over the wrinkled skin. She was still stroking his dick lazily, but Hillary had started to pump faster into her fist. Lara pulled her head away again, gasping. Hillary's hand was stroking the back of her head, encouragingly. She took her hand of his cock, and looked at it in all its splendour. It was hard, pulsating and glistened with her saliva mingled with his precum. She put her hands on his hips, and pressed her lips shaped in a perfect "O" against his sensitized shaft. She took him in her mouth as deep as she could, but her lack of experience stopped her taking in the entire length. She bobbed her head, each time trying to take in more of him. Soon enough, Hillary's groans were heralding the orgasm. He gripped hold of her head, clutching painfully tight at her raven hair. He did not thrust deep in her throat, but he pumped faster and faster.
"Jesus, Lara, I'm coming!" he said and tried to pull out.
Lara's fingers dug deep in his hips, and she sucked harder, not wanting to let him go. She wanted to enjoy the hot explosion in her mouth, for all the times he had pulled out to protect her. And because it felt right. It did. It felt damn right when Hillary roared and the hot blast jetted deep in her throat. Hillary slunk to his knees. His eyes were smouldering when he looked at her. He cupped her face in his palms and kissed her ravenously. She put her arms around his neck, sustaining her weary body.
"That was absolutely amazing," he murmured between kisses. "Jesus, Lara, I never… I didn’t even think I could… It was so… so…"
"Amazing?" she suggested.
"Yeah."
- 5
- 6
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The Treasure at Home