Fic: Skip the Sangria (The Losers, Clay/Aisha, NC-17)
Title: Skip the Sangria
Author:
sohotrightnow
Fandom: The Losers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clay/Aisha
Warning: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit is being made, for external use only.
Notes: Pure PWP. Also there's pegging.
Words: ~770
Summary:
Spain, and they'd gone straight for the cheapest aguardiente they could stomach, leaving Jensen to the worse shit, Cougar to the better, and Pooch and his wife cooing over the baby and each other, each with a glass of sangria before they set off for some sightseeing. Spain, and the windows and shutters were open because they'd just spent three weeks in the Pacific Northwest and now Aisha needed the goddamned sunlight. Spain, and the golden afternoon light fell in hot bright pools on the carpet and even the air was warm on her back, the sometimes-wind cooling as it met their sweat. But any work the breeze may have done was in vain, because they were fucking hard enough to keep themselves sweat-soaked, and as hot as the air was, Clay was even hotter around the fingers of her right hand.
The lube was sun- and body-warmed too, slicking her way. He was bent over before her, his hands gripping and releasing the sheets, the clean white of them already shadowed with the crests and valleys of wrinkles he'd made (and, by extension, she'd made). He was laid out like a banquet in before her and she reached out to grab his hair, force him up, heard him hiss and then laugh a little with the pain of it, and she grinned herself, pressing a kiss against his shoulder and then sinking her teeth in and making him whimper.
Aisha twisted her fingers and his breath hitched; she yanked on his hair and sweet God the sound he made was delicious. Their pace ebbed, and Aisha grabbed a pillow with her free hand, folded it, stuffed it between her legs because she needed something to rock against, something that would offer a little more pressure, and the angle was wrong for his leg to do the job.
It was the second time she'd come today, and it was quicker this time, a hot sparkling flash that threw off her rhythm after even though it had followed so well before. But she knew the sounds he was making by now, and she grinned as she yanked his head back once more by the hair, then let go and wrapped her fingers around him and tugged, quick and sharp, so that he cried out in frustration and yeah, she was more than ready to go again -- and then she pulled her other hand out of him and made for the bathroom.
She made it easy for him, even, was grinning at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, and she didn't need to say anything, didn't need to explain, because Clay caught on quick, which was one of the things she liked about him. She hadn't bothered turning the lights on, because there was so much light spilling into the room that it wasn't necessary; the sink was facing the door so that the light haloed around her when she looked up and caught sight of him, a blot of dark getting clearer as he followed. Another thing she liked about him was that he could keep up; over the running water she heard him following and Aisha barely had time to turn off the water and catch hold of the porcelain of the sink before he grabbed hold of her hips with one hand and guided himself into her with the other. It was cooler in here, but the tile grew warm and damp quick under her feet, and the sink too. He was pressing kisses against her shoulders, her scalp, anywhere he could, and pushing into her with a ferocity that suited her just fine. She rolled her hips to meet him,
Risking the slip -- and really, between the two of them, not drunk enough to lose their balance, even on each other, it was no risk at all -- she let go of the sink with her left hand and started rubbing at herself. Once more, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and him too, flush against her; both of them were flushed with heat and exertion, glittering with sweat. And the daylit room beyond, the rumpled sheets and the bottle on the floor next to the lamp they'd knocked off and shattered. Her eyes should be adjusting to the dimness of the bathroom, but instead the light of the day seemed to get brighter. Before she gave up, for a little while, on thinking, Aisha decided that she liked it here.
She'd grown up in damper climates, but Spain -- oh, Aisha thought she could get used to Spain.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth.
comments; reply there with Dreamwidth ID or OpenID.
Author:
sohotrightnow
Fandom: The Losers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clay/Aisha
Warning: None
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit is being made, for external use only.
Notes: Pure PWP. Also there's pegging.
Words: ~770
Summary:
Spain, and they'd gone straight for the cheapest aguardiente they could stomach, leaving Jensen to the worse shit, Cougar to the better, and Pooch and his wife cooing over the baby and each other, each with a glass of sangria before they set off for some sightseeing. Spain, and the windows and shutters were open because they'd just spent three weeks in the Pacific Northwest and now Aisha needed the goddamned sunlight. Spain, and the golden afternoon light fell in hot bright pools on the carpet and even the air was warm on her back, the sometimes-wind cooling as it met their sweat. But any work the breeze may have done was in vain, because they were fucking hard enough to keep themselves sweat-soaked, and as hot as the air was, Clay was even hotter around the fingers of her right hand.
The lube was sun- and body-warmed too, slicking her way. He was bent over before her, his hands gripping and releasing the sheets, the clean white of them already shadowed with the crests and valleys of wrinkles he'd made (and, by extension, she'd made). He was laid out like a banquet in before her and she reached out to grab his hair, force him up, heard him hiss and then laugh a little with the pain of it, and she grinned herself, pressing a kiss against his shoulder and then sinking her teeth in and making him whimper.
Aisha twisted her fingers and his breath hitched; she yanked on his hair and sweet God the sound he made was delicious. Their pace ebbed, and Aisha grabbed a pillow with her free hand, folded it, stuffed it between her legs because she needed something to rock against, something that would offer a little more pressure, and the angle was wrong for his leg to do the job.
It was the second time she'd come today, and it was quicker this time, a hot sparkling flash that threw off her rhythm after even though it had followed so well before. But she knew the sounds he was making by now, and she grinned as she yanked his head back once more by the hair, then let go and wrapped her fingers around him and tugged, quick and sharp, so that he cried out in frustration and yeah, she was more than ready to go again -- and then she pulled her other hand out of him and made for the bathroom.
She made it easy for him, even, was grinning at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, and she didn't need to say anything, didn't need to explain, because Clay caught on quick, which was one of the things she liked about him. She hadn't bothered turning the lights on, because there was so much light spilling into the room that it wasn't necessary; the sink was facing the door so that the light haloed around her when she looked up and caught sight of him, a blot of dark getting clearer as he followed. Another thing she liked about him was that he could keep up; over the running water she heard him following and Aisha barely had time to turn off the water and catch hold of the porcelain of the sink before he grabbed hold of her hips with one hand and guided himself into her with the other. It was cooler in here, but the tile grew warm and damp quick under her feet, and the sink too. He was pressing kisses against her shoulders, her scalp, anywhere he could, and pushing into her with a ferocity that suited her just fine. She rolled her hips to meet him,
Risking the slip -- and really, between the two of them, not drunk enough to lose their balance, even on each other, it was no risk at all -- she let go of the sink with her left hand and started rubbing at herself. Once more, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and him too, flush against her; both of them were flushed with heat and exertion, glittering with sweat. And the daylit room beyond, the rumpled sheets and the bottle on the floor next to the lamp they'd knocked off and shattered. Her eyes should be adjusting to the dimness of the bathroom, but instead the light of the day seemed to get brighter. Before she gave up, for a little while, on thinking, Aisha decided that she liked it here.
She'd grown up in damper climates, but Spain -- oh, Aisha thought she could get used to Spain.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth.
comments; reply there with Dreamwidth ID or OpenID.