FF: Kapparah
Title: Kapparah
Author: Ellie
Rating: NC17
Summary: “The silk of her fingers and the tickling whisper of her hair precede her lips as they continue down his body.”
A sequel to my “Desiderata,” post “Finding Judas.” Smut.
****
She slides down him slowly, feeling the even rise and fall of his chest hitch when she reaches a nipple and lingers, laving. His muscles tense as he wakes, but he simply draws another deep breath and relaxes. One of his hands, tangled in the rumpled white sheets near her hip, twitches, moves fractionally toward her, then stills.
The silk of her fingers and the tickling whisper of her hair precede her lips as they continue down his body. When she reaches the waist of his pajamas, she makes a small sound of frustration, but in seconds has them slipping down over the hips he silently raises, obliging though she knows he must be in pain now. She can see the tense muscles in his good thigh, notes the trembling in his damaged one, assess how unevenly he distributes his weight.
There’s nothing she can say, though, beyond offering him another pill, and it’s clear that’s not on either of their minds right now. Tossing the pajamas aside, her lips trace their way back up his legs, bestowing one gentle kiss on his thigh before he shifts it away.
Cuddy looks up at him, meeting his eyes for a second before he tersely shakes his head. It hurts too much now, she knows, but he wants this, wants her, more than he wants relief from the pain. Understanding, accepting, she ducks her head to his half-erect cock. She runs her tongue up the under side, fingers teasing the base, and can feel his arousal grow. Twice more she repeats the gesture, until she draws a soft growl from him.
Then she takes him in her mouth, gliding slowly down the length of him. He buries his hands in her unruly hair, not tugging or pulling, just twining, thumbs occasionally brushing across her cheek. She’s tender with him, just trying to arouse, not bring to climax. His breath comes in panting gasps, and she knows her work is almost done as her tongue traces its way up him one final time, until he slips from her lips and they both feel a bit deprived.
She lets him tug her up then, his hands tense on her shoulders. Finally leaning down to kiss him, she breaks the silence to ask, “What’s best?”
His lips catch hers, until she can’t breathe and has almost forgotten the query. “This is good. Just….”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t need to be told to be careful; she wrought the cause, and knows that however much comfort she may provide, it cannot be undone. She captures him in a kiss once more, lips teasing his until he reaches up to pull her head down to him, her hair tumbling down around both their faces.
After a long minute, she pulls away, sitting up and carefully positioning herself. He stops her, though, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, still enveloping her form. There’s a smile on his lips, genuine though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, as she whips it over her head, tossing it the way of his pajamas. Almost as soon as it’s gone, his hands are on her breasts, gentler than they usually are, and she just enjoys his thumbs teasing across her nipples for a moment.
Then she rises up a bit and reaches down, guiding him inside in one long, slow stroke. When she settles her weight down, it’s like everything is right again, and they’re both purged of all wrong, atonement and absolution, at least temporarily. For a moment they’re still, and her eyes are closed, savoring the feeling.
Eventually, she leans forward, closing the angles between them, and begins to move, slowly, so slowly. She wants him to know how much he means to her, in spite of everything. As her lips meet his, one of his hands slips down between them, brushing against her clit in gentle counterpoint to her movements. There’s nothing frantic here, not now.
Gradually, she moves faster against him, crashing harder against the thrust of his hips, his fingers slamming between them, grinding against her just so. His hand on her hip tightens, possessive, bruisingly so, pulling her down harder, closer, as both their breaths come in fast, sharp pants. It’s the hand on her hip that finally undoes her, that one tiny act of possession, the closest he’ll come to admitting anything he feels.
She kisses his chest as she collapses down against it, feeling her whole body melting around him as he thrusts a few more times, erratically, then stills. The hand on her hip eases its grasp, now stroking her, up over her back and down again. It’s a gentle opposition to their harsh breathing and she enjoys it, slipping briefly back to sleep before he wakes her.
There’s reluctance in the gesture, as he extracts his hand from between them and nudges her ribs. “Cuddy.”
It takes a moment, but she shushes him with a kiss, then crawls off of him. “Yeah.” Rising from the bed, she goes into the bathroom and cleans up a bit before returning to bed with his bottle of pills. Shaking two out, she drops them into his trembling, waiting hand.
He swallows them dry and flops back against the pillows, eyes closed. They’re still shut when he says, “Time to face the day.”
“It’s supposed to be nice, for this time of year.”
“I don’t think I’m up to taking the bike in today.”
“Give me first crack at the shower, and I’ll give you a ride.”
“Didn’t you already?”
She doesn’t answer, just swaggers into the bathroom, knowing he’s watching her bare ass as she goes.
****
End
****
Author: Ellie
Rating: NC17
Summary: “The silk of her fingers and the tickling whisper of her hair precede her lips as they continue down his body.”
A sequel to my “Desiderata,” post “Finding Judas.” Smut.
****
She slides down him slowly, feeling the even rise and fall of his chest hitch when she reaches a nipple and lingers, laving. His muscles tense as he wakes, but he simply draws another deep breath and relaxes. One of his hands, tangled in the rumpled white sheets near her hip, twitches, moves fractionally toward her, then stills.
The silk of her fingers and the tickling whisper of her hair precede her lips as they continue down his body. When she reaches the waist of his pajamas, she makes a small sound of frustration, but in seconds has them slipping down over the hips he silently raises, obliging though she knows he must be in pain now. She can see the tense muscles in his good thigh, notes the trembling in his damaged one, assess how unevenly he distributes his weight.
There’s nothing she can say, though, beyond offering him another pill, and it’s clear that’s not on either of their minds right now. Tossing the pajamas aside, her lips trace their way back up his legs, bestowing one gentle kiss on his thigh before he shifts it away.
Cuddy looks up at him, meeting his eyes for a second before he tersely shakes his head. It hurts too much now, she knows, but he wants this, wants her, more than he wants relief from the pain. Understanding, accepting, she ducks her head to his half-erect cock. She runs her tongue up the under side, fingers teasing the base, and can feel his arousal grow. Twice more she repeats the gesture, until she draws a soft growl from him.
Then she takes him in her mouth, gliding slowly down the length of him. He buries his hands in her unruly hair, not tugging or pulling, just twining, thumbs occasionally brushing across her cheek. She’s tender with him, just trying to arouse, not bring to climax. His breath comes in panting gasps, and she knows her work is almost done as her tongue traces its way up him one final time, until he slips from her lips and they both feel a bit deprived.
She lets him tug her up then, his hands tense on her shoulders. Finally leaning down to kiss him, she breaks the silence to ask, “What’s best?”
His lips catch hers, until she can’t breathe and has almost forgotten the query. “This is good. Just….”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t need to be told to be careful; she wrought the cause, and knows that however much comfort she may provide, it cannot be undone. She captures him in a kiss once more, lips teasing his until he reaches up to pull her head down to him, her hair tumbling down around both their faces.
After a long minute, she pulls away, sitting up and carefully positioning herself. He stops her, though, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, still enveloping her form. There’s a smile on his lips, genuine though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, as she whips it over her head, tossing it the way of his pajamas. Almost as soon as it’s gone, his hands are on her breasts, gentler than they usually are, and she just enjoys his thumbs teasing across her nipples for a moment.
Then she rises up a bit and reaches down, guiding him inside in one long, slow stroke. When she settles her weight down, it’s like everything is right again, and they’re both purged of all wrong, atonement and absolution, at least temporarily. For a moment they’re still, and her eyes are closed, savoring the feeling.
Eventually, she leans forward, closing the angles between them, and begins to move, slowly, so slowly. She wants him to know how much he means to her, in spite of everything. As her lips meet his, one of his hands slips down between them, brushing against her clit in gentle counterpoint to her movements. There’s nothing frantic here, not now.
Gradually, she moves faster against him, crashing harder against the thrust of his hips, his fingers slamming between them, grinding against her just so. His hand on her hip tightens, possessive, bruisingly so, pulling her down harder, closer, as both their breaths come in fast, sharp pants. It’s the hand on her hip that finally undoes her, that one tiny act of possession, the closest he’ll come to admitting anything he feels.
She kisses his chest as she collapses down against it, feeling her whole body melting around him as he thrusts a few more times, erratically, then stills. The hand on her hip eases its grasp, now stroking her, up over her back and down again. It’s a gentle opposition to their harsh breathing and she enjoys it, slipping briefly back to sleep before he wakes her.
There’s reluctance in the gesture, as he extracts his hand from between them and nudges her ribs. “Cuddy.”
It takes a moment, but she shushes him with a kiss, then crawls off of him. “Yeah.” Rising from the bed, she goes into the bathroom and cleans up a bit before returning to bed with his bottle of pills. Shaking two out, she drops them into his trembling, waiting hand.
He swallows them dry and flops back against the pillows, eyes closed. They’re still shut when he says, “Time to face the day.”
“It’s supposed to be nice, for this time of year.”
“I don’t think I’m up to taking the bike in today.”
“Give me first crack at the shower, and I’ll give you a ride.”
“Didn’t you already?”
She doesn’t answer, just swaggers into the bathroom, knowing he’s watching her bare ass as she goes.
****
End
****