Author: SilentG
Title: Le Petit Mort, or, Love Means Never Having to Say You're Sorry for Calling the Fire Department
Fandom: LO:CI
Pairing: B/A
Rating: M for descriptive 2nd base and excruciating embarrassment
Spoilers: None. This story could take place any time, but I imagine it post-Loyalty.
Archive: Anywhere – no need to ask – just attribute, and let me know if possible
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: The title says it all. Or, maybe it's not at all like riding a bicycle.

A/N 1: Just a little smutlet. Not too graphic.



"What happened to her bra," she asked. He reddened and made fumbling gestures with his fingers, indicating his only partially-successful attempts to re-fasten it. "Oh, right. It's a little more challenging than unhooking them, isn't it?"

One hour earlier…


Had making out always been this quiet?

Mind you, it was their first time making out, and the last time before that had been, well… a long time ago. A distant memory in fact. In fact, not even a memory. More like another lifetime altogether.

Bobby was on his side with his back against the back of Alex's sofa. She was half underneath him, and the soles of her shoes squeaked against the tops of his as she tried to use them to lever herself somehow closer to him. Their lips made soft, wet sounds – wonderful sounds, as they moved over each other. Fabric rustled as skin sought skin. Every now and then Alex made a deep, quiet sound in the back of her throat that made him feel – if possible – even more randy and determined, and her sharp, shallow breaths hit his cheekbone with almost inaudible puffs. Almost.

Bobby's belt had creaked as Alex managed to jam her hand partway into his trousers, and he was sure her little fingers whispered as they played teasingly across the tip of his penis, if only he could hear it.

His right hand was threaded in the hair at the nape of her neck, and his left hand roamed the skin of her back and shoulders. He'd long felt the allure of the strong muscles that ran up the length of her spine, and he found that she liked to be touched there. In fact, every few moments brought evidence of a new sensitivity in her, and he tried to maintain the wherewithal to catalogue them. It was difficult. Alex was very enthusiastic – so much so that it was a bit overwhelming. She was touching him under his shirt with her free hand; not only his chest and back, but she'd actually managed to get her arm partway down his shirtsleeve, so she could stroke and squeeze his bicep.

Her mouth was soft but firm when she kissed him, and she shivered as he touched the sweetness of her tongue with his. When she sucked his lower lip between her teeth and nibbled gently on it, he growled. He wasn't used to such tenderness – she caressed his mouth with reverence, and with love.

Alex kept her eyes open as she kissed him, which was both a surprise and a turn-on. Looking into those eyes that had spoken to him for 10 years was almost too much for him, alongside everything else that was happening at that moment. Bobby moaned at the thought, and Alex hooked her leg over his waist, drawing his clothed erection against the crux of her thighs. As an experiment, he held her fast against him and thrust gently against her (forcing the thought, I'm too old to be dry-humping my girlfriend on her father's couch, far away from him). Her response was quick and fierce: she arched herself against him and turned her head, letting out a muffled exclamation into his shoulder.

Her body was everything he'd occasionally allowed himself to dream of. Small and tight and firm and strong and impossibly soft. He dearly wanted to touch more of her. Bobby played his fingers over her bra clasp with a silent inquiry, and she groaned and wriggled against him in an encouraging way, seeking his mouth with hers yet again. He unfastened the hooks one-handed (Some things you never forget!) and slid his eager hand across her ribcage towards her bust. He was about to touch Eames's breasts!

Alex actually whimpered as he tweaked and caressed the soft, firm globes. "Oh, Bobby Bobby Bobby," she whined incoherently. His delight grew as he played with them; when he brushed his palm back and forth against her nipples, she moued and pouted her cute lips. When he squeezed them, she grunted and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "It's too much, it's almost too much," she lamented, even while she arched and rubbed herself against him.

"I know, sweetheart," he whispered in reply, all the while continuing to thrust himself, gently and slowly, against her.

It was when he began to suck and kiss her throat that he felt the telltale tension and involuntary movements that told him she was close to her peak. Her hand was still in his trousers, but had long since stilled as her attention focused on her own pleasure. He could still feel her, though, and with the arousing knowledge that he was close to bringing her off without even laying a hand below or beneath her belt, he thought he could join her just from the occasional connection with the tips of her fingers.

"Don't stop, don't stop," she cried. Seeking more contact for her pleasure, he'd released her breasts to hold her more firmly against him.

"OK, OK," he said, returning his left hand to its previous station. "Is this OK, sweetheart," he mumbled into her neck between nibbles. Alex was holding her breath and expelling it in sharp, short bursts against his throat as her body tensed and arched. He prayed for fortitude as he felt his own body prepare for release. He fleetingly thought they should stop – perhaps Alex with her sense of decorum might regret such a raw exposure so early in their relationship – but he couldn't deny her, couldn't deny himself the chance to exalt her in this most precious and primitive of ways.

"Mmhmm," she mumbled into his collar, followed by an almost soundless, inarticulate cry as she tensed and trembled against him in her climax. Her body abruptly relaxed against him, and he quickly held her close and, with two more flexes of his hips, found his own satisfaction.


His first sensation was of her small, quiet breaths against the vee at the top of his chest. Her body was completely limp and he held her against him with a surge of satisfaction. "Alex," he croaked, his voice rough, "Are you OK? Alex?" He asked again, when she didn't reply.

His heart dropped to his shoes when he drew back and looked to find her out cold.


A/N 2: On another note, I haven't had any story stats in like 10 days. Any other authors have the same issue? I've emailed the support people twice, but nothing's happened. One more chapter, maybe two. Please review!

WORDS: 1216 UPLOADED Sunday, May 23, 2010