for muses_sex_etc: tremble
Jul. 22nd, 2009 01:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
heroslayer"Trust me," he tells her, and Claire looks up at him for a long moment before she finally nods.
Flashing her a small smile that borders on deranged, he climbs onto the bed next to her and plants a hand on the bed behind him. His other hand goes to his belt, fingers fumbling with it until he can work it open, and then he's tugging on it, sliding it out of the loops at his waist. He holds it up, swinging it back and forth, the buckle like a pendulum meant to hypnotize her, and she squints at it, her vision not exactly back in full even now. The frown she's been wearing deepens as she raises her eyes a little higher to look past the belt and at him.
"We can't do this," she says with a sigh, and he wonders if the sound means she misses the sex as much as he does or if it's something else. "I still can't heal, remember?"
He makes a grab at her wrists; he might not have his telekinesis, but he's still stronger than her. She struggles a little, despite the admission of trust from a moment earlier, but it doesn't stop him from hooking the end of the belt around one wrist, securing it tightly. Nor does it stop him from repeating the process on her other wrist. Or hooking what little slack there is between her wrists around one of the bed posts.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demands through clenched teeth. "You're going to hurt -- "
He cuts her off with a laugh, eyes dropping down to stomach for an instant before he raises his eyes back to her, his expression dark from under his eyebrows. "Oh, Claire," he starts, shifting so that he can half lean over her, fingers resting at her hip lightly, "I don't plan on hurting you."
The look she gives him suggests that she doesn't quite believe that, but he doesn't let her protest again, instead darting down to press his mouth to hers. There's a disturbing lack of violence to the kiss -- it must take her by surprise, too, as she doesn't kiss back, right away -- but he promised and he plans on keeping his word. No matter how much he wants to tear her apart in that instant or how easy it would be.
Taking a deep breath to fight down the shudder of violent impulses that threaten to grab him, he nibbles at her lower lip lightly, tongue soothing where his teeth had been an instant earlier. She moans a bit, approvingly, and strains against his belt, the leather groaning in echo of her as she arches up against him. And he can't help but smile however faintly against her lips as he pulls back.
"See? Not so bad." She murmurs something unintelligible, pressing up off the bed a little further, her hips brushing his slowly and deliberately, and his breath catches in the back of his throat for a moment, eyes shuttering closed only to reopen an instant later as he lets the breath out a sigh. "Not fair."
Claire peeks up at him from under a bit of hair that's fallen into her face, a small, sly smile catching the edges of her mouth and tugging it upwards. "Sure it is."
If she plans on elaborating, however, he doesn't quite give her the chance to, his fingers curling at her hip and then sliding up her side, under the fabric of the shirt she's wearing as he finds the hem of it, stripping her of her ability to speak. She manages a little whimper, pressing up against him again, and he echoes it though he doesn't let it distract him, fingers climbing higher up her side and then back down, slowly. She sinks back into the bed with the fall of his fingers, and he considers himself lucky -- it means that he can pull his hand out from under her shirt and work at the buttons holding it closed. He probably should have done this before he bound her wrists, but well, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and in honesty, the shirt really isn't that important in the first place.
That in mind, he undoes the buttons deftly, slipping his hand under the material at her shoulders to at least slide it down a little if he can't be rid of it entirely. She arches up off the bed and into him again, her toes curling in the sheets, and he rewards her both with a low moan and another kiss, tongue teasing against her lower lip, lazily. He flattens his palm against her skin, dragging it down over her chest as she tilts her head back, lips parting under his, begging him enter. And as he tangles his tongue with hers, he curls his fingers around her breast, fingers spidering over skin lightly, his palm brushing the peak of her nipple, seemingly inadvertently with every twitch of his hand.
Again she strains against the leather at her wrists and again his lips curve into a tiny smirk against hers. He doesn't pull away this time, however, if anything his mouth suddenly firmer on hers, forcing her to press up into him again as he flicks his fingers against tightened skin. She whimpers and he lets up for an instant, dragging his hand down over her ribs, her breathing already loud staccato gasps as his fingers sink lower, kneading at the tension in her stomach.
"Please," she manages, the word just a breath into his mouth, and he makes a soft, amused noise. Rather than torturing her further or asking for clarification, however, he obliges, slipping his hand under the waist of her shorts. His fingers brush through wet sex and he groans, pulling his mouth away from hers to drop his head to her shoulder, lips pressing there feverishly.
They shift together, one of her legs steepling on the bed, her foot flat on the mattress, and he leans forward, chest heavy against hers, even though he has most of his weight balanced on his arm on the bed. They breathe as opposites, her breathing out as he breathes her in, and then he's suddenly sure neither of them care how the other is breathing as he has his fingers soaked in her wetness and pressed against her clit. She groans, hips arching to meet his fingers, and he patterns small, tight circles over her, slowly.
She manages his name, whispered like a prayer as the tension mounts in her thighs, leaving her trembling underneath him as he drives her higher, and he smiles against her skin. Moving his mouth, he catches her nipple between her teeth lightly, working circles over her arousal with his tongue, out of time with the passes of his fingers on her clit. And considering how long it seems it's been since they've been at this, that seems enough to break her, her hips thrusting into his fingers a final time, holding there for a long, tense moment, and then she breaks a cry on her lips.
A breath of something wordless, a whine as he strokes his fingers over too sensitive skin a few more times, and then he's taking his hand away to hold her as she rides out the tremors against him. In a few minutes, he'll unbind her arms and let her return the favor, if she wants to. In a few minutes, he'll let her get the revenge he knows she'll want -- that's how they work, after all. And all of it, whatever she decides to do, will be a wonderful distraction from any questions she might have about why he didn't fuck her properly.
He doesn't want her to know it was because he didn't want to hurt her. He doesn't want her to know that, even with I Love Yous shared, even with that out there, he cares in more ways than he lets on. There are some weaknesses even he won't share -- with or without full command of his abilities.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1351
Note: Claire is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
girl_ofsecrets and is used without permission but with love and respect. ♥ Porn is hard to write on the beach.
Flashing her a small smile that borders on deranged, he climbs onto the bed next to her and plants a hand on the bed behind him. His other hand goes to his belt, fingers fumbling with it until he can work it open, and then he's tugging on it, sliding it out of the loops at his waist. He holds it up, swinging it back and forth, the buckle like a pendulum meant to hypnotize her, and she squints at it, her vision not exactly back in full even now. The frown she's been wearing deepens as she raises her eyes a little higher to look past the belt and at him.
"We can't do this," she says with a sigh, and he wonders if the sound means she misses the sex as much as he does or if it's something else. "I still can't heal, remember?"
He makes a grab at her wrists; he might not have his telekinesis, but he's still stronger than her. She struggles a little, despite the admission of trust from a moment earlier, but it doesn't stop him from hooking the end of the belt around one wrist, securing it tightly. Nor does it stop him from repeating the process on her other wrist. Or hooking what little slack there is between her wrists around one of the bed posts.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demands through clenched teeth. "You're going to hurt -- "
He cuts her off with a laugh, eyes dropping down to stomach for an instant before he raises his eyes back to her, his expression dark from under his eyebrows. "Oh, Claire," he starts, shifting so that he can half lean over her, fingers resting at her hip lightly, "I don't plan on hurting you."
The look she gives him suggests that she doesn't quite believe that, but he doesn't let her protest again, instead darting down to press his mouth to hers. There's a disturbing lack of violence to the kiss -- it must take her by surprise, too, as she doesn't kiss back, right away -- but he promised and he plans on keeping his word. No matter how much he wants to tear her apart in that instant or how easy it would be.
Taking a deep breath to fight down the shudder of violent impulses that threaten to grab him, he nibbles at her lower lip lightly, tongue soothing where his teeth had been an instant earlier. She moans a bit, approvingly, and strains against his belt, the leather groaning in echo of her as she arches up against him. And he can't help but smile however faintly against her lips as he pulls back.
"See? Not so bad." She murmurs something unintelligible, pressing up off the bed a little further, her hips brushing his slowly and deliberately, and his breath catches in the back of his throat for a moment, eyes shuttering closed only to reopen an instant later as he lets the breath out a sigh. "Not fair."
Claire peeks up at him from under a bit of hair that's fallen into her face, a small, sly smile catching the edges of her mouth and tugging it upwards. "Sure it is."
If she plans on elaborating, however, he doesn't quite give her the chance to, his fingers curling at her hip and then sliding up her side, under the fabric of the shirt she's wearing as he finds the hem of it, stripping her of her ability to speak. She manages a little whimper, pressing up against him again, and he echoes it though he doesn't let it distract him, fingers climbing higher up her side and then back down, slowly. She sinks back into the bed with the fall of his fingers, and he considers himself lucky -- it means that he can pull his hand out from under her shirt and work at the buttons holding it closed. He probably should have done this before he bound her wrists, but well, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and in honesty, the shirt really isn't that important in the first place.
That in mind, he undoes the buttons deftly, slipping his hand under the material at her shoulders to at least slide it down a little if he can't be rid of it entirely. She arches up off the bed and into him again, her toes curling in the sheets, and he rewards her both with a low moan and another kiss, tongue teasing against her lower lip, lazily. He flattens his palm against her skin, dragging it down over her chest as she tilts her head back, lips parting under his, begging him enter. And as he tangles his tongue with hers, he curls his fingers around her breast, fingers spidering over skin lightly, his palm brushing the peak of her nipple, seemingly inadvertently with every twitch of his hand.
Again she strains against the leather at her wrists and again his lips curve into a tiny smirk against hers. He doesn't pull away this time, however, if anything his mouth suddenly firmer on hers, forcing her to press up into him again as he flicks his fingers against tightened skin. She whimpers and he lets up for an instant, dragging his hand down over her ribs, her breathing already loud staccato gasps as his fingers sink lower, kneading at the tension in her stomach.
"Please," she manages, the word just a breath into his mouth, and he makes a soft, amused noise. Rather than torturing her further or asking for clarification, however, he obliges, slipping his hand under the waist of her shorts. His fingers brush through wet sex and he groans, pulling his mouth away from hers to drop his head to her shoulder, lips pressing there feverishly.
They shift together, one of her legs steepling on the bed, her foot flat on the mattress, and he leans forward, chest heavy against hers, even though he has most of his weight balanced on his arm on the bed. They breathe as opposites, her breathing out as he breathes her in, and then he's suddenly sure neither of them care how the other is breathing as he has his fingers soaked in her wetness and pressed against her clit. She groans, hips arching to meet his fingers, and he patterns small, tight circles over her, slowly.
She manages his name, whispered like a prayer as the tension mounts in her thighs, leaving her trembling underneath him as he drives her higher, and he smiles against her skin. Moving his mouth, he catches her nipple between her teeth lightly, working circles over her arousal with his tongue, out of time with the passes of his fingers on her clit. And considering how long it seems it's been since they've been at this, that seems enough to break her, her hips thrusting into his fingers a final time, holding there for a long, tense moment, and then she breaks a cry on her lips.
A breath of something wordless, a whine as he strokes his fingers over too sensitive skin a few more times, and then he's taking his hand away to hold her as she rides out the tremors against him. In a few minutes, he'll unbind her arms and let her return the favor, if she wants to. In a few minutes, he'll let her get the revenge he knows she'll want -- that's how they work, after all. And all of it, whatever she decides to do, will be a wonderful distraction from any questions she might have about why he didn't fuck her properly.
He doesn't want her to know it was because he didn't want to hurt her. He doesn't want her to know that, even with I Love Yous shared, even with that out there, he cares in more ways than he lets on. There are some weaknesses even he won't share -- with or without full command of his abilities.
Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 1351
Note: Claire is
girl_ofsecrets and is used without permission but with love and respect. ♥ Porn is hard to write on the beach.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-07-22 07:23 pm (UTC)Maybe writing porn is hard on the beach but omg, you do it so well. This was awesome.
Totally made my day. *fans self*
no subject
Date: 2009-07-23 03:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-23 09:11 pm (UTC)