He shot a caramel sundae in her mouth, just like he promised her.
Her mouth took in every spurt, Marachino cherries hinted at, as she sucked him hard with a desperation that only the eager know. She pulled away from his quivering hairless thighs, savoring his wilting that slipped out of her cock-sweetened lips.
"I love your taste in my mouth."
"Which one? I have so many, the ones you pick."
"Which would explain why I love them all," Rachel grinned.
Returning her grin, Harvey fell back on his side of the bed, a sweat-beaded arm draped over her as she rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. His many scents washed over her - peppermint sweat, dark chocolate lips, cranberry (mingled with mashed potatoes and gravy) skin.
She kissed his chest, lazily tongued the long red scar between his pink areola, sighing contentedly as she silently thanked Joe, her deceased beloved husband, for leaving her Harvey, her companion of two years.
Harvey, whose real identity was unknown to them had been a John Doe in the morgue. Before rigor mortis and decay set in, Joe, with a year to live, had secured Harvey's body, via sizable bribes to the right people. Then doctors repaired whatever had killed Harvey, and re-animated him. How, Rachel didn't know. Didn't want to know.
The only thing she did know is that the process was ineffective on older people. Something about durability, the advanced wear-and-tear of the body, Joe said.
Otherwise, he'd be lying beside her, not Harvey.
"Does it bother you to be named after an imaginary six-foot rabbit?"
She was referring to the title character of that Jimmy Stewart movie, one of Joe's favourites.
"Does it bother you to be fucking a guy named after an imaginary six-foot rabbit?" Harvey riposted, laughing.
Rachel slapped an age-thinned hand on his firm belly. A sound between a plop and a thump reached her stomach-side ear as she did so.
That's something Joe might've said, she thought, sadness flitting through her.
As if sensing her mood shift, Harvey became serious. He spoke slowly, picking his words carefully.
"I'm honoured, actually. I mean, he named me after his favourite movie, one of his favourite characters. This, after resurrecting and re-educating me. . ."
Rachel didn't say anything. The single tear that touched his holiday-flavoured skin said it all. Harvey pulled her closer, her arm arced across his belly, upper thigh. Her whispering fingers brushed over track-marks, where he injected flavours at her whim.
Outside, the night rain tapped lightly at the oriel windows, wanting in.
Harvey lifted her off him, smiling as his chocolate kisses slowly worked their way down her sucked-in stomach, a sigh already forming on her lips at the thought of impending pleasure, promising storms.
She, too, had noted the rain.
His jasper eyes flashed preternaturally as his sherbet tongue plunged into her dampness, assaulting her clit relentlessly. His only pause in this loving attack was to dip his tongue into her pooling wine-like fluids, sideswipe her hot malleable walls, shudders within, without her. Her fingers linked with his, clutching honey-dark open thighs.
Outside, the rain fell harder, hard gusts rattling the window panes.
She came hard and fast, liquid heat in her moanings and thrashings, her heels thumping the sheets between her deep gasps. Still clutching her, his tongue never gave any sign of ceasing its ministrations. With an unlady-like grunt, she pulled him off her muff.
Her kisses were frantic, hungry for his mouth and chin, slathered in her taste, teasing nips at the chocolate plush she now claimed. After a moment, they fell to their respective bed sides.
A long look passed between them, congenial and languid. They touched hands - her age-spotted digits on his thirty-something, Caucasian knuckles. Relishing their contrasts, they kissed slowly, gently.
They fell asleep spooning, to the sound of abating rain.
* * * * *
Later, when dawn's vague gray demanded the sky, Rachel woke up. Though her body was tired from last night's exertions, her internal alarm clock was unflagging.
She glanced sleepily over at her lover, softly snoring in the bruised hue of the hour. He mumbled something indecipherable between exhalations, and fell back into his repetitive snoring.
Rachel gazed fondly at the enduring, loving feast that Joe had made for her, and thanked him again.
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