Fic - Pressure Points (John Mayer/Taylor Swift, RPF) R, 1/1
Title: Pressure Points
Summary: He presses a kiss to the inside of her knee and the breath that passes through her lips is shaky at best. No actual plot here, just J/T: adventures in sexy times.
Rating: r
Author's Notes: 500 words. For leobrat because she said that all she wanted for Christmas was John/Taylor smut. I somewhat delivered. Hopefully this will tide you over until I have your real Christmas fic finished. All mistakes are mine. These people, however, are not. Please just slide-on-by if RPF is not your thing.
"I think,” she starts, stops, letting out a long breath as the words leave her lips. “I think we have too much sex.”
John’s hands are on her hips, grip tight as he pulls her down the bed a few inches, spreads her thighs apart to adjust to the width of his shoulders. Taylor shudders, just slightly, at the way his fingers trail over her sides, the skin of her stomach, between her legs. He presses a kiss to the inside of her knee and the breath that passes through her lips is shaky at best.
“And you’re complaining?”
“No,” Taylor replies, biting her bottom lip and it’s intoxicating, his touch, already pulling her a part piece by piece and she has to pause to regain her thought. “I just... I,” she starts only to stop again. Her eyes float towards the ceiling and she tries to count to ten backwards and forwards, tries so hard not to succumb to the sheer power he seems to have over her, but ultimately fails miserably.
“Yes?” he prompts and his breath fans over her as his thumb draws lazy circles around her clit. Her legs open wider, just the a little bit, and she thinks, rather hazily, that he is entirely too good at this.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she breathes, and tugs at his shoulders restlessly. He complies, face near hers now, hand still between her legs. “Nothing.”
“I know plenty,” he replies, smug grin in place and she wants to hate him, tries to hate him, but it’s hard to think about anything but the sensations that start in her toes and flow upwards, the dull hum that starts in the base of her skull and pulsates outwards. “I know you like this,” he whispers, slipping a finger inside, curling it upwards. He leans in, breath hot on her neck as his teeth sink into the skin between her neck and collarbone. She whimpers helplessly. “And that.”
Already she is close she hates herself a little bit for it. For being so easy, for being so pliant beneath his fingers. John kisses the spot behind her ear, teases her with one finger again, then two. She opens her mouth to object, but she’s already forgotten what she meant to say. She’s halfway on her way to forgetting her name. Her eyes fall closed and hips arch upwards to meet the precise ministrations of his fingers.
“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice right in her ear, the vibrations sinking deep into her skin and it’s all it takes for her to moan something low and guttural, back arching off the bed.
“I hate you,” she breathes, sometime after, lips curling into a lazy smile.
Summary: He presses a kiss to the inside of her knee and the breath that passes through her lips is shaky at best. No actual plot here, just J/T: adventures in sexy times.
Rating: r
Author's Notes: 500 words. For leobrat because she said that all she wanted for Christmas was John/Taylor smut. I somewhat delivered. Hopefully this will tide you over until I have your real Christmas fic finished. All mistakes are mine. These people, however, are not. Please just slide-on-by if RPF is not your thing.
"I think,” she starts, stops, letting out a long breath as the words leave her lips. “I think we have too much sex.”
John’s hands are on her hips, grip tight as he pulls her down the bed a few inches, spreads her thighs apart to adjust to the width of his shoulders. Taylor shudders, just slightly, at the way his fingers trail over her sides, the skin of her stomach, between her legs. He presses a kiss to the inside of her knee and the breath that passes through her lips is shaky at best.
“And you’re complaining?”
“No,” Taylor replies, biting her bottom lip and it’s intoxicating, his touch, already pulling her a part piece by piece and she has to pause to regain her thought. “I just... I,” she starts only to stop again. Her eyes float towards the ceiling and she tries to count to ten backwards and forwards, tries so hard not to succumb to the sheer power he seems to have over her, but ultimately fails miserably.
“Yes?” he prompts and his breath fans over her as his thumb draws lazy circles around her clit. Her legs open wider, just the a little bit, and she thinks, rather hazily, that he is entirely too good at this.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she breathes, and tugs at his shoulders restlessly. He complies, face near hers now, hand still between her legs. “Nothing.”
“I know plenty,” he replies, smug grin in place and she wants to hate him, tries to hate him, but it’s hard to think about anything but the sensations that start in her toes and flow upwards, the dull hum that starts in the base of her skull and pulsates outwards. “I know you like this,” he whispers, slipping a finger inside, curling it upwards. He leans in, breath hot on her neck as his teeth sink into the skin between her neck and collarbone. She whimpers helplessly. “And that.”
Already she is close she hates herself a little bit for it. For being so easy, for being so pliant beneath his fingers. John kisses the spot behind her ear, teases her with one finger again, then two. She opens her mouth to object, but she’s already forgotten what she meant to say. She’s halfway on her way to forgetting her name. Her eyes fall closed and hips arch upwards to meet the precise ministrations of his fingers.
“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice right in her ear, the vibrations sinking deep into her skin and it’s all it takes for her to moan something low and guttural, back arching off the bed.
“I hate you,” she breathes, sometime after, lips curling into a lazy smile.