Title: Desperate Edge
Characters/Pairings: Lanie Parish/Javier Esposito
Word Count: 932
Warnings: Absolute smuttiness. Pure and simple
Spoiler alert: None
Summary: This isn't usual, but she's okay if it becomes routine
Disclaimer: Recognize it? Then I don't own it.
Notes: Written for Porn Battle X on dreamwidth/livejournal. Parish/Esposito, date night
RATED FOR GOOD REASON LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!
. . . . .
Date night doesn't usually end like this. It doesn't end with her hand gripping the counter because he's told her he'll tie her to the bed if she so much as thinks about moving and she's ignoring the trickle of wet heat between her thighs when he said it. His tongue is against her clit with enough sass to tell her he's got a long night planned out for her in his head and the only thing she can really do is hold on. It's going to involve her brain leaking out of her ears and there's a good chance she won't be able to walk tomorrow and while this (possession, dominance, his absolutely single minded focus to see her utterly desperate) isn't the usual conclusion to date night, she really can't argue.
The fact that the first thrust of his fingers stops her heart for a split second and makes her choke on her own breath is usually part of their mid-week quickies between lab reports and stakeouts is lost in the loud keening sound she releases as her back arches. But he doesn't move his fingers, just holds them there while his tongue slows on her clit and when she gets enough brain power back, she's going to kill him. He's keeping her hanging on the edge of her orgasm, breath coming short and sharp in her lungs, knuckles white against the counter's edge.
"Javi," she whines, and he moves his mouth to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh while his fingers start moving. Fuck. He's killing her.
"Javi, please," she begs, prying open her eyes. His are the dark brown of molten heat and a fission of pleasure makes her entire body tremble.
"You wanna come, Lanie?" he murmurs against her smooth thigh.
She just whines when he curls his fingers and her hips jerk violently enough. She almost tumbles of the edge of the counter with the force.
"Come on, cari," he murmurs. "What do you want? My fingers? My mouth?" He's trailing up her inner thigh with wet kisses and she can't so much as think about anything other than him.
"Or maybe," he continues and she's surprised she can hear him over the blood pounding in her ears. "Maybe you'd prefer to come around my cock."
And she's coming anyway, with a strangled cry, waves and waves crashing over her, leaving her trembling and week. The only thing that's keeping her breathing is the natural pacemaker in her brain and she's pretty sure she now understands why the French call it 'little death'.
He's carrying her when she's finally aware enough to realize it and she reflexively tightens her thighs around his hips to ensure she won't fall. The guttural groan that he releases makes her grin because it's evidence that keeping her on the edge has left him as desperate as she was. She presses her lips to the skin just above the collar of the shirt he still wears. His hands grip her ass a little tighter as she allows her tongue to wander wetly up his neck until she can take his earlobe in his mouth.
"Lanie," he groans, stumbling until he presses her against the wall to claim her mouth. She meets his passion with her own, rubbing against the hardness between her legs. She's still sensitive from the way he overloaded the entirety of her nervous system what feels like just moments before but the denim is rough enough to spark a new heated passion with only a touch of pain.
"I want you inside me, Javi," she whispers against his mouth. "I want your cock."
He swears viciously and somehow they make it to his bedroom. She squeaks when he all but tosses her onto the bed and she kicks the blanket to the end while he strips himself naked. She digs for a condom while he crawls up the mattress and it's not long before he's sliding into her. They both groan.
"Yes," she hisses as he starts to move and she can hear him start to murmur against her shoulder. It's all in Spanish, it always is when he's this desperate for her, but his voice floats over her as his pelvic bone digs deliciously into her clit, and she knows she's not really listening to the words. She grasps his head until his eyes are locked with hers.
"I'm going to come," she tells him, panting harshly. She has to pause to force herself back from the edge. "And Javi, you're going to come with me."
He's too far gone in the hot wet confines of her body to say no, to contradict her. His agreement is in the way he speeds up, managing to slip a hand between them to rub tight circles on her clit. When she starts to shake and tense, he removes his hand to balance himself while the other slips over her mouth to muffle the loud cry she releases. He's right behind her, toppling over that cliff of pleasure. It takes them both a few minutes to focus again and they groan as he withdraws from her. She mewls at the loss of his body and he shushes her with a gentle kiss. After disposing of the condom and cleaning himself up, he returns to her and the bed.
She smiles into the pillow as he curls against her back. This may not be the usual end to date night, but she has to admit, if only to herself, she's not against it becoming routine. Not against it at all.