Porn Battle Responses!
These little ficlets were written for the Porn Battle IX (Dressed to the Nines).
Too lazy to post these separately, considering I did these at the prompt itself and posted them over at AO3 right after. Also, I'm spamming my LJ enough with fics lately. :D
Generic warning: I DON'T OWN ANYONE HERE. Characters are owned by their respective creators, which unfortunately isn't me. *cries* And they're involved in straight up porn, though some of the ficlets even have a smidge of plot in them. NC-17 all the way with everyone.
"Dreaming Through the Twilight." Alice (Sci-Fi miniseries), Hatter/Alice, waiting, watching
"I thought you were just a dream," Alice said once, after a nightmare where he had left.
Hatter took in the vulnerable expression. "Alice, how could you think I'd be anywhere else but here?" He had a faint edge of a smile to his lips. "You see, I'm different from them other guys you've dated." He threaded his fingers through her hair and she leaned into his touch. He kissed her, then hovered over her, watching her eyes. They were soft, focused on his mouth, and he couldn't help but smile at her. "I'm always going to be here with you. I'll be waiting and watching and making sure you're safe."
Alice ran her fingers along Hatter's jaw, then slid her hand behind his head and pulled him down for a searing kiss. "That mirror was probably the best thing that ever happened to me," she said with a laugh as he moved to kiss her neck.
Hatter looked up, a wicked grin on his face. "You trust me, Alice?"
"Always."
He positioned her so that she sat at the edge of the bed, looking at the mirror above her dresser. Hatter knelt in front of her, then pushed her knees apart. "Why not watch yourself, Alice?" he said, a cheeky grin on his face. "I sure like the show."
Whatever reply she would have made was swallowed up by the feel of his tongue on her clit, his fingers teasingly tracing her. She grabbed fistfuls of comforter and gasped for breath. She was wide eyed and shocked, a blush creeping across her cheeks. Hatter's tongue traced her folds and dipped inside that growing center of need. In reaction, Alice's mouth dropped open in a lusty moan and she moved to grab Hatter's head to keep him in place. He chuckled and obeyed her silent command. She whimpered, and Hatter simply kept his eyes closed as he worked her clit with his tongue, breathing in the scent of her.
Alice threw her head back and let out a strangled moan as she came so hard she thought her heart stopped. She heard Hatter's laugh as he sat back on his haunches, and she looked back down at him. "Hatter?"
He simply grinned, then pushed her back farther on the bed. "I missed that look on your face," he said, his voice nearly a purr. "I guess I'll just catch the next showing," he said, sliding his length into her. Alice gasped and pulled him in deeper, and Hatter began to thrust hard against her. "My favorite thing to watch," he said between thrusts. Alice moaned, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head at the sensation of him deep inside of her, his hands down over her wrists keeping her in place. "And the one after that... and the one after that..."
There was no way she could have dreamed up someone like Hatter, Alice decided as she came again. She was wrong about the mirror. He was the best thing that ever happened to her.
"Finding Constellations." Harry Potter, Luna/Ginny, freckles
Freckles speckled Ginny's skin, marking the pale expanse of her body with constellations of color. Luna liked tracing the shapes of them, inking the lines of her favorite constellations with her tongue across the milky skin. Ginny was bare and spread out before her, quivering beneath Luna's questing mouth. She had a fist tight between her teeth to muffle her cries, in case the silencing charms didn't hold in the face of her screams.
Luna liked how careful she was. It wouldn't do to have her exercise be interrupted before she was ready to stop.
There was the Gold Hunter, the Snorklock Viper, the Herring Hatter, the violet wickersnick and the yedrow hidden within the mass of freckles. Luna traced the lines of the figures with the tip of her tongue, then the flat of it, moving from Ginny's shoulder to her breast. Her rosy nipple was a taut peak of desire, the perfect counterpoint to the viper's head, and Luna took it into her mouth to suckle. Ginny moaned, legs splayed wide and trembling as Luna knelt between them. Ginny had promised not to touch Luna in return, but oh how she wanted to.
Luna moved down to Ginny's stomach, the wickersnick and yedrow ending in the tangle of red curls between her legs. She slid a finger into Ginny's aching wetness as her mouth closed over her clit. Ginny bucked against Luna's mouth, trying not to scream at the delicious contact. Luna was methodical about the way her fingers slid inside Ginny, first one finger and then two. She ran her tongue in circles around Ginny's clit, then up and down until Ginny was shaking. Luna twisted her fingers just so, and then Ginny was coming, clenching tightly around her fingers and screaming into her fist.
Luna sat back, a serene smile on her face. She had always liked freckles.
"Pull the Laces Tight." Coraline, Coraline/Wybie, sneaking out
Coraline climbed down the tree outside of her bedroom window. As ever, her parents were wrapped up in their magazine deadline and were thankful that she wasn't pestering them for more attention than they were willing to give. Funny how some things never really changed.
Wybie met her in the garden, and they walked out to the tree line. "My grandmother's away for the night," he said, "If you wanted to go through the old trunks she's got. I know you liked the dresses she was wearing in those old photos."
So they were in the attic of Wybie's grandmother's house, poring through old trunks. Coraline supposed that she should have been concerned about the way his eyes lingered a little too long when he tied her into the corsets, the way his fingers hovered over her shoulders as she stood in front of the mirror. He didn't come behind the changing curtain Coraline set up, but it was clear that he wanted to.
"Wybie?" Coraline asked, voice cracking slightly. She shouldn't have been nervous; she was always in the mood for adventures, and in a few short months would be going away to college. "I need help with the corset."
He untied the back, fingers shaking, not able to meet her eyes in the mirror. "There. That should do it. You can go behind the curtain now."
"Maybe I don't want to."
Their eyes met, and Wybie swallowed nervously, shoulders hunched as always. "Coraline..."
She kissed him, sloppy and awkward but still electric. "Help me, Wybie?" she asked.
He pulled her close and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding into her mouth. She could feel his fingers slide down her bare shoulders, the tug as he loosened the stays. He slipped his fingers beneath the edge of the corset, then lifted her breasts out of the little shelf. He kissed both of them reverently, looking up after a moment as if for permission. Coraline flushed slightly at the adoring look he was giving her. "We're both wearing too many clothes," she offered helpfully.
Wybie grinned, and they began undressing each other in earnest, mouths meeting each other and tongues touching and dancing. He laid her down on a blanket that wasn't too dusty, taking in the sight of her before kissing everything he could reach. His fingers followed his mouth, and Coraline held onto him and touched whatever she could. It wasn't like her mother's romance novels or Wybie's grandmother's soap operas, but it felt like magic when she came in his arms, when she felt his arousal against her palm. It hurt in the first instant, then it didn't quite, and it was over a little too soon for either of their liking.
But his grandmother was away, and her parents wouldn't notice if she was out all night, as long as she came back home from school on time.
The next twenty times, it was better than Coraline could have imagined.
"Unholy Alliance." Cowboy Bepop, Faye/Vicious, bargain
"You said you'd leave him alone," Faye began, tugging at the ropes binding her to the chair and glaring at Vicious. "I gave you what you wanted."
Vicious looked from the briefcase full of money to Faye as she struggled against her bonds. He looked at his men and nodded sharply. They filed out, leaving them alone. Faye stilled and looked up warily. "Not entirely," Vicious said, coming to stand in front of Faye. "The money is only partial payment." He smiled and snapped a suspender. "I like the look of your mouth, Faye." He eyed her, his smile dangerous. "Do you kiss him with it? Have you fucked him with it?"
Faye shook her head. It wasn't for lack of trying, but Spike's heart was elsewhere.
He paused, surprised. "You're telling the truth, aren't you?" She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. "So why give me the money?"
"You said you'd leave him alone. You said you just wanted the money."
Vicious trailed a finger down the side of her cheek. "Oh, Faye. I don't care about his money. I only want what's his. I just didn't realize he was too stupid to realize you're his in all but deed. Don't worry, Faye. I won't break you. Much."
He opened his pants and stood before her expectantly. She cautiously opened her mouth, and he guided himself in. She looked up, eyes full of worry at what would happen next. Sex was one thing, but the breaking comment bothered her. Vicious was crazy, Vicious hated Spike, and Vicious had all the weapons.
He moved quickly, pulling out of her mouth before he could come. "Not yet," he rasped, gasping for air, his hand tangled in her dark hair. He shucked off his clothing and came back to her with a knife. Faye closed her eyes, but he cut the ropes from her wrists and ankles, and then cut her clothes from her body. She opened her eyes, looking at him with a dazed expression. He was kneeling in front of her, hands on her knees and opening them wide. "I'm going to have fun with you, Faye. I'm sure you won't mind that."
She grasped the seat of the chair with her hands as his mouth descended on her, not knowing if pulling at his hair would get her killed. Vicious had a talented tongue, delving deep inside of her and laving at her with frightening efficiency. She came twice before he lifted his mouth and pulled her to his desk. She bent over, resting her head on the damned briefcase. She gasped as he slammed his full length into her wet heat, hitting a spot she hadn't even known existed. She groaned as he thrust, hands tight on her hips. He let out an agonized groan as she came, tightening around him, and came soon after.
Looking at Faye sprawled across his desk, Vicious laughed. She turned and looked at him warily, not sure what he was laughing at. "What?" she asked, deciding to risk it.
"I rather enjoyed that. I think I'll keep you, so we can do this again." His grin was feral. "You're the thing I wanted to seal the deal."
"After the Fall. Neverwhere, Door/Richard - hero, keys, obstacles
Richard was the hero of London Below, but he couldn't quite gather up enough emotion to care about that. He stood beside Door in the Arch, staring at a picture of her family. "We'll find her," he murmured, grasping her shoulder for support.
Door turned into his embrace, sobbing. She was an Opener, she had no need for keys, but she had no idea where the door locking her sister away might be. "I don't know where to go," she whimpered, grasping Richard tightly.
Somehow, their mouths met. It was a tentative kiss that slowly deepened, slowly became something more. Richard let his hands roam over her, and she moaned when his palm ran over her front. Her nipples pebbled beneath his fingers as he stroked her breast, his other arm around her for balance. She had her fingers wound through his hair, holding onto him for dear life.
They stumbled backward, and Door Opened a door to her bedroom. They continued to stumble around the room, still kissing each other, and fell across her bed. Richard moved to hover above her, his hand moving from her breast to the juncture of her thighs, slipping beneath her clothes to rub his fingers against her. She was wet and aching for him, mewling at his touch. He slid his fingers inside her waiting warmth, slick already. She canted her hips to meet his fingers, her tongue sliding into his mouth as they continued their kiss. Door slid her hands beneath his shirt, and Opened his trousers. She held him with a firm grip as she came with a soft cry, breaking their kiss. They made short work of their clothes, and Richard slid inside of her.
It was like coming home, like everything finally made sense.
Afterward, when Door screamed herself hoarse and Richard slumped against her, spent, she smiled and kissed his temple. "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked, turning to look at her.
"For being with me," she said simply. "For promising to help."
Richard smiled at her, and kissed her gently. "We'll find her. I am the hero of London Below now. I'm the Hunter. We'll find her."
This time, Door believed him.
"In The Space of a Breath." Fables, Snow/Bigby - centuries
He had waited centuries for her, allowed himself the luxury of getting drunk on her scent only when she wasn't looking. Bigby wasn't exactly a proud wolf, and he definitely wasn't a proud man. But there were limits, and if those limits let him stay close to Snow, then he would follow them to the letter.
But he craved her in ways he couldn't really explain. He wanted to run his tongue along her pulse, wanted to taste the way her blood sang inside her veins. He wanted to savor her scent when he buried his face between her legs, when he licked at her thighs and the swollen center of need. He wanted to push his tongue inside of her, nibble at her folds and drink her honeyed juices. He wanted to slide his fingers into her wet heat, wanted to feel her from the inside out, wanted to see her writhe beneath him as he curled his fingers deeply inside of her. He wanted to kiss her, to devour her, to make her his. He wanted to push his cock inside her, wanted to feel her wrap around his hard length in a velvet caress. He wanted to have her on her back, on all fours, bent over her desk, splayed out on her bed, spread wide open for him to taste and savor and feel for hours.
"Bigby?" Snow asked sharply. "Are you even listening to me?"
He sighed and squared his shoulders. "Sure thing, Assistant Mayor."
"Teacher and Student." Firefly, Inara/River, gentle
She moved slowly through the shuttle, almost like a ghost. Inara had an amused smile on her face as River fingered the silks and satins, sniffed at the closed perfume bottles and couldn't quite bring herself to touch the silver-backed comb and brush. "It's all right. You can touch them. I know you can be gentle with beautiful things."
But River moved to Inara's side, eyes wide and luminous in the half light of the shuttle. "You area beautiful thing. I would be most gentle with you."
Nonplused, Inara brushed River's hair away from her face. "If this is curiosity..."
River kissed her, inexpertly but clearly full of desire. She gave Inara an anxious look, wondering if she had moved too soon, if she had done it wrong.
"Let me teach you," Inara said gently, cradling River's face. "This is something that can be very beautiful indeed."
Inara had her naked and panting on the bed, legs parted and folds wet and aching. She moved her fingers inside of River as she suckled on a breast. River's moans were soft and musical, as if she would sing to the stars of her ecstasy. It was over too soon, too soon, but River's smile was the rise of sunset over the waters at Sihnon.
"I learn quickly," she said, smiling wider. "Let me show you."
"Take Me Home Tonight." Star Trek XI, girl!Kirk/McCoy, restraint, young, drunk
She was blonde and had laughing blue eyes that mocked everyone in the bar. She was so obviously drunk but carried the attitude that she could still take on everyone at once and come out on top. McCoy had seen girls like her before, moving like sharks through the room, leaving most men frustrated and aching because she wouldn't let them touch her.
But she sat down next to him. "Bourbon straight up? I like that," she purred.
Fuck, she was going to get him killed by every other asshole at the bar that wanted in her pants. "Look, lady..."
"Jamie Kirk," she said, a twist to her lips. "I think you've heard of me."
Who hadn't? Youngest Captain in the fleet, and not because she slept her way there. "Yeah. So?"
"Take me home and I'll tell you about it."
"Why me?" he groused. "You could pick anyone."
"They're panting like they'll come in their pants. You look like you could last for a while." Her smile was lazy and taunting at once. "Am I wrong?"
McCoy leaned back a bit on his bar stool and gave her a long, sensual look. "No."
They went to her hotel room, and she didn't even wait for the bed. She slammed him up against the wall and attacked his mouth with hers. She was at his belt and grinding against him before he could even register that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Drunk as all get-out, but she could still move as if she was stone cold sober. McCoy felt his eyes roll up into the back of his head as she took him into her mouth, sucked on him and cradled his balls with one hand. Her tongue hit all the sweet spots he didn't even know he had, and he hit the back of her throat with every delicious bob of her head. He threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging on it sharply when he was close. "Don't, I'll..."
She swallowed him down with a smile. "Don't worry, tiger. This way it'll last longer for round two and three."
"Counterpoint." Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, John Connor/Cameron, metal
Cameron was made of metal on the inside, but her skin was soft and her lips were pliant. The curves of her body filled out the lace bra and panties set all too well, and her mouth knew just where to go to bring John to his knees as he cried out in orgasm. He knew she wasn't real, wasn't human, wasn't a girl. His cock didn't know the difference, didn't care.
"You know you love me," she had told him, eyes desperate.
Show me, he told her with his eyes and unzipped fly. Show me how much you love me. Show me how metal can love flesh.
She might have been metal on the inside, but her lips were soft and her tongue was deft as it moved over him. It didn't matter what she was, only how she felt.
"Open the Gun." Firefly, River/Jayne, gun, dare
Jayne cared for his guns as if they were really girls, as if they could really feel and think and move like living girls. He named them, breaking them down to component parts and rubbed them all smooth with oil. Then he put them back together again. He liked doing this task late at night in the mess, when everyone else was asleep and wouldn't foul up his concentration.
River knew she was a loaded gun that looked empty, knew she was just waiting for the proper trigger to let loose an avalanche of pain and destruction. She stepped into the mess on light toes, all other bunks locked up tight just in case.
"Whatcha doin', moonbrain?" he growled, not looking up from his precious guns that weren't really girls. He could see her out of the corner of his eye.
River let her dress fall from her shoulders and puddle at her feet. "Is she a weapon or a girl to you? Is she another gun for you to play with?"
Now he looked up, now he pushed himself from the table. "You playin' with fire, little girl."
"Burn me."
He slid his fingers inside of her, slicked with gun oil, his thumb dragging across her clit. His other hand was curled around a breast, thumbing the nipple. He took the other into his mouth as he worked her with his fingers, as she clutched at his shoulders and mewled in pleasure. It was a game, just a game, just something to pass the time after he looked longer than he should. But she was tight around his fingers, slick with her own fluids and the gun oil, and slid onto him like a glove, like she was made for him, like he had always been waiting for her.
And afterwards, they reassembled his guns together.
"Life." Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Sarah/Ellison, proof
She broke into his apartment easily, files in her bag. She planned to leave them for him to find; Sarah knew he wouldn't trust the rest of her story without some kind of proof. Only, Ellison didn't take as long to get back home as she thought he would, and he found her. "What are you doing?" he asked, wary of her. She didn't exactly blame him.
He looked over her files, then at the defiant tilt to her jaw. "So you want to keep me around?"
Sarah rolled her eyes and moved to leave, but Ellison caught her arm and spun her around. She collided against his muscled chest, and they didn't dare breathe for a long moment.
She shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have thought of it, but she kissed him anyway.
Clothes flew to random corners, and he cradled her breasts in his hands as she rode him hard, his shoulders clenched tight in her hands. He was thick inside of her, hitting all those spots she had forgotten even existed. When Ellison pushed Sarah onto her back, she let him. She let him worship her with mouth and hands and tongue, let him rock against her and bring her from shattering peak to peak to peak.
This was life. This was what the machines couldn't ever take away, this was what it meant to live.
"Die For You." Crossover, Supernatural/Torchwood, Dean Winchester/Jack Harkness, assistance, need, tension
Jack hadn't meant to get involved, but the kid was cocksure and mouthy, hustling everyone at the bar. He had followed the kid from the field where the last remnant of a vampire nest had been staked and burned, the kid showing no satisfaction in the task. It was a job to the kid, even if that particular vampire had information that Jack had needed for a case. When the kid got his ass kicked six ways to Sunday outside the bar, Jack had to intervene.
The kid was named Dean, and didn't trust Jack worth a damn. But he let Jack buy him a few rounds, and he let Jack tuck him into his hotel room. Dean must have felt something in the way Jack's appreciative glances slid over his skin, because he simply stripped down to his skin as if he did it in front of Jack every day.
Jack locked the door and took Dean into his mouth, closing his eyes and needing to pretend it was Ianto for a while. Dean thrust up against him, fingers tight in Jack's hair, cruelly pulling and moving with an urgency that Jack didn't feel.
Jack swallowed Dean's come and simply sat back on his heels. "So who was I for you?"
"Someone dead," Dean said, voice bitter. "You?"
"Someone dead, too," Jack returned with a fractured smile. He stood and flashed Dean his most winsome grin. "How about a fuck with someone that won't ever die for you?"
"Time Enough to Meet Again." Push, Nick/Cassie, sweet
She still couldn't draw worth a damn, but Nick had to agree that Cassie had filled out very well in the years since he last saw her. Her mouth quirked when she saw him, as if she could read his very thoughts. Nick knew he was safe on that front, and simply asked her to dance. "How'd you find me?" he asked her.
"I can find you anywhere," Cassie told him, smiling sweetly. As if it hadn't taken three headache inducing visions and a bottle of brandy to bring on the correct time and date they would meet again. "I missed you, Nick."
The way she moved against him was distracting, the grind of her hips against his sending all the wrong signals to his groin. But her top was low cut and she nearly spilled out of the top of it into his hands, and her lips curled into that sickly sweet smile that suddenly seemed seductive. He pulled her to a back room at the club, pushed her up against the wall. His mouth was over hers, her lip gloss sticky and like spun sugar. She stuck her tongue in his mouth without any finesse, her hands on his belt.
He couldn't have stopped it even if he wanted to. He thrust home, deep inside of her, her legs wrapped tight around his waist and her arms around him to keep balance. Nick cupped her ass to help move her up and down over him, then used his ability to Move things to keep her upright so he could rub at her clit. She hissed in pleasure, grinding against his fingers, clenching tight around his cock. She came in a rush, squeaking almost in surprise. Nick followed soon after, his head tucked in the crook of her neck.
"So... uh... I missed you," he said lamely, and was rewarded with Cassie's bright laughter.
"Eyes that Shine." Pitch Black, Riddick/Carolyn, eyes like that, I'm not gonna die for you, animal side
She wasn't supposed to die for him, but Carolyn Fry was a tough and stubborn little bitch and didn't always do what she was told. Riddick had followed her scent on this godforsaken fucking planet, knowing it was hid kind of scent. He had wanted to get her alone on that shuttle, get out to the deep black of space where the only things that shone would be the stars, his eyes and the pale skin of her stomach as he took her clothes off. He wanted to smell her arousal as he tasted her skin, wanted to feel her heart stop when he made her come with just his mouth. Carolyn was supposed to spread herself wide for him, welcome him inside her hot depths, let him smell that flavor of beautiful when she clung to him. The aftershocks would have been good, would have rolled through her like a tidal wave. The shine to his eyes would've let him see her flushed face, the roll of her eyes as she writhed beneath him.
But the creatures took her from him, so it was only fair for him to get a piece of them in return for stealing his chosen mate.
"Shadow." Harry Potter, Harry/Ginny/Tom, ghosts
Ginny smiled, feeling Tom behind her eyes. He was a whisper in her mind, the ghost beneath her skin, the tangle of nightmare and need deep inside of her. Harry didn't see a thing, didn't know to look. He had forgotten she had been possessed, he had forgotten that she knew the way dark things moved and that the shadows held teeth.
She pushed him onto his back, eyes flashing, hearing Tom's voice in her ears and not Harry's protests. "I love you," he was saying, but Tom's voice was louder, the ghost she always carried with her even as she denied it. Ginny straddled Harry's waist, stroked him and impaled herself on his hard cock. Harry was lost in the sensation of her slick wetness, tight like a fist around him. He didn't question her motives, didn't think to ask why she suddenly wanted him inside of her and his hands on her breasts when even the day before she shuddered under his kiss and moved away from his attention.
But Tom needed a body. Tom needed to take physical form, and Harry was foolish enough not to question the shadows in her eyes, not to question the feel of her coming, her nails digging into his shoulders after tracing runic patterns into his skin.
She grinned as she came again, making Tom spill his seed deep inside of her.
"Clean." Witch Hunter Robin, Amon/Robin, fugitive, latin
They were supposed to be dead, and no one was supposed to know they were alive. But Amon had contacts, and they were in a dingy Hong Kong hotel room, waiting on the money and fake ID's that would allow them to travel everywhere and nowhere.
Amon pulled the ribbons from Robin's hair. She watched with silent eyes as he pulled her dress from her body, as he dropped his lips to her pale skin. Robin whimpered when his fingers brushed over her breasts, the nipples growing taut from his attentions. She gasped and clung to him when his fingers found her center, when they slipped inside and his mouth closed over hers. He was gentle, his touch as calming as the Latin prayers Robin had learned in the convent in Italy. He was her benediction, he was her salvation.
When she came in his arms, her soul was wiped clean and they were ready to start over again.
Too lazy to post these separately, considering I did these at the prompt itself and posted them over at AO3 right after. Also, I'm spamming my LJ enough with fics lately. :D
Generic warning: I DON'T OWN ANYONE HERE. Characters are owned by their respective creators, which unfortunately isn't me. *cries* And they're involved in straight up porn, though some of the ficlets even have a smidge of plot in them. NC-17 all the way with everyone.
"Dreaming Through the Twilight." Alice (Sci-Fi miniseries), Hatter/Alice, waiting, watching
"I thought you were just a dream," Alice said once, after a nightmare where he had left.
Hatter took in the vulnerable expression. "Alice, how could you think I'd be anywhere else but here?" He had a faint edge of a smile to his lips. "You see, I'm different from them other guys you've dated." He threaded his fingers through her hair and she leaned into his touch. He kissed her, then hovered over her, watching her eyes. They were soft, focused on his mouth, and he couldn't help but smile at her. "I'm always going to be here with you. I'll be waiting and watching and making sure you're safe."
Alice ran her fingers along Hatter's jaw, then slid her hand behind his head and pulled him down for a searing kiss. "That mirror was probably the best thing that ever happened to me," she said with a laugh as he moved to kiss her neck.
Hatter looked up, a wicked grin on his face. "You trust me, Alice?"
"Always."
He positioned her so that she sat at the edge of the bed, looking at the mirror above her dresser. Hatter knelt in front of her, then pushed her knees apart. "Why not watch yourself, Alice?" he said, a cheeky grin on his face. "I sure like the show."
Whatever reply she would have made was swallowed up by the feel of his tongue on her clit, his fingers teasingly tracing her. She grabbed fistfuls of comforter and gasped for breath. She was wide eyed and shocked, a blush creeping across her cheeks. Hatter's tongue traced her folds and dipped inside that growing center of need. In reaction, Alice's mouth dropped open in a lusty moan and she moved to grab Hatter's head to keep him in place. He chuckled and obeyed her silent command. She whimpered, and Hatter simply kept his eyes closed as he worked her clit with his tongue, breathing in the scent of her.
Alice threw her head back and let out a strangled moan as she came so hard she thought her heart stopped. She heard Hatter's laugh as he sat back on his haunches, and she looked back down at him. "Hatter?"
He simply grinned, then pushed her back farther on the bed. "I missed that look on your face," he said, his voice nearly a purr. "I guess I'll just catch the next showing," he said, sliding his length into her. Alice gasped and pulled him in deeper, and Hatter began to thrust hard against her. "My favorite thing to watch," he said between thrusts. Alice moaned, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head at the sensation of him deep inside of her, his hands down over her wrists keeping her in place. "And the one after that... and the one after that..."
There was no way she could have dreamed up someone like Hatter, Alice decided as she came again. She was wrong about the mirror. He was the best thing that ever happened to her.
"Finding Constellations." Harry Potter, Luna/Ginny, freckles
Freckles speckled Ginny's skin, marking the pale expanse of her body with constellations of color. Luna liked tracing the shapes of them, inking the lines of her favorite constellations with her tongue across the milky skin. Ginny was bare and spread out before her, quivering beneath Luna's questing mouth. She had a fist tight between her teeth to muffle her cries, in case the silencing charms didn't hold in the face of her screams.
Luna liked how careful she was. It wouldn't do to have her exercise be interrupted before she was ready to stop.
There was the Gold Hunter, the Snorklock Viper, the Herring Hatter, the violet wickersnick and the yedrow hidden within the mass of freckles. Luna traced the lines of the figures with the tip of her tongue, then the flat of it, moving from Ginny's shoulder to her breast. Her rosy nipple was a taut peak of desire, the perfect counterpoint to the viper's head, and Luna took it into her mouth to suckle. Ginny moaned, legs splayed wide and trembling as Luna knelt between them. Ginny had promised not to touch Luna in return, but oh how she wanted to.
Luna moved down to Ginny's stomach, the wickersnick and yedrow ending in the tangle of red curls between her legs. She slid a finger into Ginny's aching wetness as her mouth closed over her clit. Ginny bucked against Luna's mouth, trying not to scream at the delicious contact. Luna was methodical about the way her fingers slid inside Ginny, first one finger and then two. She ran her tongue in circles around Ginny's clit, then up and down until Ginny was shaking. Luna twisted her fingers just so, and then Ginny was coming, clenching tightly around her fingers and screaming into her fist.
Luna sat back, a serene smile on her face. She had always liked freckles.
"Pull the Laces Tight." Coraline, Coraline/Wybie, sneaking out
Coraline climbed down the tree outside of her bedroom window. As ever, her parents were wrapped up in their magazine deadline and were thankful that she wasn't pestering them for more attention than they were willing to give. Funny how some things never really changed.
Wybie met her in the garden, and they walked out to the tree line. "My grandmother's away for the night," he said, "If you wanted to go through the old trunks she's got. I know you liked the dresses she was wearing in those old photos."
So they were in the attic of Wybie's grandmother's house, poring through old trunks. Coraline supposed that she should have been concerned about the way his eyes lingered a little too long when he tied her into the corsets, the way his fingers hovered over her shoulders as she stood in front of the mirror. He didn't come behind the changing curtain Coraline set up, but it was clear that he wanted to.
"Wybie?" Coraline asked, voice cracking slightly. She shouldn't have been nervous; she was always in the mood for adventures, and in a few short months would be going away to college. "I need help with the corset."
He untied the back, fingers shaking, not able to meet her eyes in the mirror. "There. That should do it. You can go behind the curtain now."
"Maybe I don't want to."
Their eyes met, and Wybie swallowed nervously, shoulders hunched as always. "Coraline..."
She kissed him, sloppy and awkward but still electric. "Help me, Wybie?" she asked.
He pulled her close and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding into her mouth. She could feel his fingers slide down her bare shoulders, the tug as he loosened the stays. He slipped his fingers beneath the edge of the corset, then lifted her breasts out of the little shelf. He kissed both of them reverently, looking up after a moment as if for permission. Coraline flushed slightly at the adoring look he was giving her. "We're both wearing too many clothes," she offered helpfully.
Wybie grinned, and they began undressing each other in earnest, mouths meeting each other and tongues touching and dancing. He laid her down on a blanket that wasn't too dusty, taking in the sight of her before kissing everything he could reach. His fingers followed his mouth, and Coraline held onto him and touched whatever she could. It wasn't like her mother's romance novels or Wybie's grandmother's soap operas, but it felt like magic when she came in his arms, when she felt his arousal against her palm. It hurt in the first instant, then it didn't quite, and it was over a little too soon for either of their liking.
But his grandmother was away, and her parents wouldn't notice if she was out all night, as long as she came back home from school on time.
The next twenty times, it was better than Coraline could have imagined.
"Unholy Alliance." Cowboy Bepop, Faye/Vicious, bargain
"You said you'd leave him alone," Faye began, tugging at the ropes binding her to the chair and glaring at Vicious. "I gave you what you wanted."
Vicious looked from the briefcase full of money to Faye as she struggled against her bonds. He looked at his men and nodded sharply. They filed out, leaving them alone. Faye stilled and looked up warily. "Not entirely," Vicious said, coming to stand in front of Faye. "The money is only partial payment." He smiled and snapped a suspender. "I like the look of your mouth, Faye." He eyed her, his smile dangerous. "Do you kiss him with it? Have you fucked him with it?"
Faye shook her head. It wasn't for lack of trying, but Spike's heart was elsewhere.
He paused, surprised. "You're telling the truth, aren't you?" She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. "So why give me the money?"
"You said you'd leave him alone. You said you just wanted the money."
Vicious trailed a finger down the side of her cheek. "Oh, Faye. I don't care about his money. I only want what's his. I just didn't realize he was too stupid to realize you're his in all but deed. Don't worry, Faye. I won't break you. Much."
He opened his pants and stood before her expectantly. She cautiously opened her mouth, and he guided himself in. She looked up, eyes full of worry at what would happen next. Sex was one thing, but the breaking comment bothered her. Vicious was crazy, Vicious hated Spike, and Vicious had all the weapons.
He moved quickly, pulling out of her mouth before he could come. "Not yet," he rasped, gasping for air, his hand tangled in her dark hair. He shucked off his clothing and came back to her with a knife. Faye closed her eyes, but he cut the ropes from her wrists and ankles, and then cut her clothes from her body. She opened her eyes, looking at him with a dazed expression. He was kneeling in front of her, hands on her knees and opening them wide. "I'm going to have fun with you, Faye. I'm sure you won't mind that."
She grasped the seat of the chair with her hands as his mouth descended on her, not knowing if pulling at his hair would get her killed. Vicious had a talented tongue, delving deep inside of her and laving at her with frightening efficiency. She came twice before he lifted his mouth and pulled her to his desk. She bent over, resting her head on the damned briefcase. She gasped as he slammed his full length into her wet heat, hitting a spot she hadn't even known existed. She groaned as he thrust, hands tight on her hips. He let out an agonized groan as she came, tightening around him, and came soon after.
Looking at Faye sprawled across his desk, Vicious laughed. She turned and looked at him warily, not sure what he was laughing at. "What?" she asked, deciding to risk it.
"I rather enjoyed that. I think I'll keep you, so we can do this again." His grin was feral. "You're the thing I wanted to seal the deal."
"After the Fall. Neverwhere, Door/Richard - hero, keys, obstacles
Richard was the hero of London Below, but he couldn't quite gather up enough emotion to care about that. He stood beside Door in the Arch, staring at a picture of her family. "We'll find her," he murmured, grasping her shoulder for support.
Door turned into his embrace, sobbing. She was an Opener, she had no need for keys, but she had no idea where the door locking her sister away might be. "I don't know where to go," she whimpered, grasping Richard tightly.
Somehow, their mouths met. It was a tentative kiss that slowly deepened, slowly became something more. Richard let his hands roam over her, and she moaned when his palm ran over her front. Her nipples pebbled beneath his fingers as he stroked her breast, his other arm around her for balance. She had her fingers wound through his hair, holding onto him for dear life.
They stumbled backward, and Door Opened a door to her bedroom. They continued to stumble around the room, still kissing each other, and fell across her bed. Richard moved to hover above her, his hand moving from her breast to the juncture of her thighs, slipping beneath her clothes to rub his fingers against her. She was wet and aching for him, mewling at his touch. He slid his fingers inside her waiting warmth, slick already. She canted her hips to meet his fingers, her tongue sliding into his mouth as they continued their kiss. Door slid her hands beneath his shirt, and Opened his trousers. She held him with a firm grip as she came with a soft cry, breaking their kiss. They made short work of their clothes, and Richard slid inside of her.
It was like coming home, like everything finally made sense.
Afterward, when Door screamed herself hoarse and Richard slumped against her, spent, she smiled and kissed his temple. "Thank you."
"For what?" he asked, turning to look at her.
"For being with me," she said simply. "For promising to help."
Richard smiled at her, and kissed her gently. "We'll find her. I am the hero of London Below now. I'm the Hunter. We'll find her."
This time, Door believed him.
"In The Space of a Breath." Fables, Snow/Bigby - centuries
He had waited centuries for her, allowed himself the luxury of getting drunk on her scent only when she wasn't looking. Bigby wasn't exactly a proud wolf, and he definitely wasn't a proud man. But there were limits, and if those limits let him stay close to Snow, then he would follow them to the letter.
But he craved her in ways he couldn't really explain. He wanted to run his tongue along her pulse, wanted to taste the way her blood sang inside her veins. He wanted to savor her scent when he buried his face between her legs, when he licked at her thighs and the swollen center of need. He wanted to push his tongue inside of her, nibble at her folds and drink her honeyed juices. He wanted to slide his fingers into her wet heat, wanted to feel her from the inside out, wanted to see her writhe beneath him as he curled his fingers deeply inside of her. He wanted to kiss her, to devour her, to make her his. He wanted to push his cock inside her, wanted to feel her wrap around his hard length in a velvet caress. He wanted to have her on her back, on all fours, bent over her desk, splayed out on her bed, spread wide open for him to taste and savor and feel for hours.
"Bigby?" Snow asked sharply. "Are you even listening to me?"
He sighed and squared his shoulders. "Sure thing, Assistant Mayor."
"Teacher and Student." Firefly, Inara/River, gentle
She moved slowly through the shuttle, almost like a ghost. Inara had an amused smile on her face as River fingered the silks and satins, sniffed at the closed perfume bottles and couldn't quite bring herself to touch the silver-backed comb and brush. "It's all right. You can touch them. I know you can be gentle with beautiful things."
But River moved to Inara's side, eyes wide and luminous in the half light of the shuttle. "You area beautiful thing. I would be most gentle with you."
Nonplused, Inara brushed River's hair away from her face. "If this is curiosity..."
River kissed her, inexpertly but clearly full of desire. She gave Inara an anxious look, wondering if she had moved too soon, if she had done it wrong.
"Let me teach you," Inara said gently, cradling River's face. "This is something that can be very beautiful indeed."
Inara had her naked and panting on the bed, legs parted and folds wet and aching. She moved her fingers inside of River as she suckled on a breast. River's moans were soft and musical, as if she would sing to the stars of her ecstasy. It was over too soon, too soon, but River's smile was the rise of sunset over the waters at Sihnon.
"I learn quickly," she said, smiling wider. "Let me show you."
"Take Me Home Tonight." Star Trek XI, girl!Kirk/McCoy, restraint, young, drunk
She was blonde and had laughing blue eyes that mocked everyone in the bar. She was so obviously drunk but carried the attitude that she could still take on everyone at once and come out on top. McCoy had seen girls like her before, moving like sharks through the room, leaving most men frustrated and aching because she wouldn't let them touch her.
But she sat down next to him. "Bourbon straight up? I like that," she purred.
Fuck, she was going to get him killed by every other asshole at the bar that wanted in her pants. "Look, lady..."
"Jamie Kirk," she said, a twist to her lips. "I think you've heard of me."
Who hadn't? Youngest Captain in the fleet, and not because she slept her way there. "Yeah. So?"
"Take me home and I'll tell you about it."
"Why me?" he groused. "You could pick anyone."
"They're panting like they'll come in their pants. You look like you could last for a while." Her smile was lazy and taunting at once. "Am I wrong?"
McCoy leaned back a bit on his bar stool and gave her a long, sensual look. "No."
They went to her hotel room, and she didn't even wait for the bed. She slammed him up against the wall and attacked his mouth with hers. She was at his belt and grinding against him before he could even register that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Drunk as all get-out, but she could still move as if she was stone cold sober. McCoy felt his eyes roll up into the back of his head as she took him into her mouth, sucked on him and cradled his balls with one hand. Her tongue hit all the sweet spots he didn't even know he had, and he hit the back of her throat with every delicious bob of her head. He threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging on it sharply when he was close. "Don't, I'll..."
She swallowed him down with a smile. "Don't worry, tiger. This way it'll last longer for round two and three."
"Counterpoint." Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, John Connor/Cameron, metal
Cameron was made of metal on the inside, but her skin was soft and her lips were pliant. The curves of her body filled out the lace bra and panties set all too well, and her mouth knew just where to go to bring John to his knees as he cried out in orgasm. He knew she wasn't real, wasn't human, wasn't a girl. His cock didn't know the difference, didn't care.
"You know you love me," she had told him, eyes desperate.
Show me, he told her with his eyes and unzipped fly. Show me how much you love me. Show me how metal can love flesh.
She might have been metal on the inside, but her lips were soft and her tongue was deft as it moved over him. It didn't matter what she was, only how she felt.
"Open the Gun." Firefly, River/Jayne, gun, dare
Jayne cared for his guns as if they were really girls, as if they could really feel and think and move like living girls. He named them, breaking them down to component parts and rubbed them all smooth with oil. Then he put them back together again. He liked doing this task late at night in the mess, when everyone else was asleep and wouldn't foul up his concentration.
River knew she was a loaded gun that looked empty, knew she was just waiting for the proper trigger to let loose an avalanche of pain and destruction. She stepped into the mess on light toes, all other bunks locked up tight just in case.
"Whatcha doin', moonbrain?" he growled, not looking up from his precious guns that weren't really girls. He could see her out of the corner of his eye.
River let her dress fall from her shoulders and puddle at her feet. "Is she a weapon or a girl to you? Is she another gun for you to play with?"
Now he looked up, now he pushed himself from the table. "You playin' with fire, little girl."
"Burn me."
He slid his fingers inside of her, slicked with gun oil, his thumb dragging across her clit. His other hand was curled around a breast, thumbing the nipple. He took the other into his mouth as he worked her with his fingers, as she clutched at his shoulders and mewled in pleasure. It was a game, just a game, just something to pass the time after he looked longer than he should. But she was tight around his fingers, slick with her own fluids and the gun oil, and slid onto him like a glove, like she was made for him, like he had always been waiting for her.
And afterwards, they reassembled his guns together.
"Life." Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, Sarah/Ellison, proof
She broke into his apartment easily, files in her bag. She planned to leave them for him to find; Sarah knew he wouldn't trust the rest of her story without some kind of proof. Only, Ellison didn't take as long to get back home as she thought he would, and he found her. "What are you doing?" he asked, wary of her. She didn't exactly blame him.
He looked over her files, then at the defiant tilt to her jaw. "So you want to keep me around?"
Sarah rolled her eyes and moved to leave, but Ellison caught her arm and spun her around. She collided against his muscled chest, and they didn't dare breathe for a long moment.
She shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have thought of it, but she kissed him anyway.
Clothes flew to random corners, and he cradled her breasts in his hands as she rode him hard, his shoulders clenched tight in her hands. He was thick inside of her, hitting all those spots she had forgotten even existed. When Ellison pushed Sarah onto her back, she let him. She let him worship her with mouth and hands and tongue, let him rock against her and bring her from shattering peak to peak to peak.
This was life. This was what the machines couldn't ever take away, this was what it meant to live.
"Die For You." Crossover, Supernatural/Torchwood, Dean Winchester/Jack Harkness, assistance, need, tension
Jack hadn't meant to get involved, but the kid was cocksure and mouthy, hustling everyone at the bar. He had followed the kid from the field where the last remnant of a vampire nest had been staked and burned, the kid showing no satisfaction in the task. It was a job to the kid, even if that particular vampire had information that Jack had needed for a case. When the kid got his ass kicked six ways to Sunday outside the bar, Jack had to intervene.
The kid was named Dean, and didn't trust Jack worth a damn. But he let Jack buy him a few rounds, and he let Jack tuck him into his hotel room. Dean must have felt something in the way Jack's appreciative glances slid over his skin, because he simply stripped down to his skin as if he did it in front of Jack every day.
Jack locked the door and took Dean into his mouth, closing his eyes and needing to pretend it was Ianto for a while. Dean thrust up against him, fingers tight in Jack's hair, cruelly pulling and moving with an urgency that Jack didn't feel.
Jack swallowed Dean's come and simply sat back on his heels. "So who was I for you?"
"Someone dead," Dean said, voice bitter. "You?"
"Someone dead, too," Jack returned with a fractured smile. He stood and flashed Dean his most winsome grin. "How about a fuck with someone that won't ever die for you?"
"Time Enough to Meet Again." Push, Nick/Cassie, sweet
She still couldn't draw worth a damn, but Nick had to agree that Cassie had filled out very well in the years since he last saw her. Her mouth quirked when she saw him, as if she could read his very thoughts. Nick knew he was safe on that front, and simply asked her to dance. "How'd you find me?" he asked her.
"I can find you anywhere," Cassie told him, smiling sweetly. As if it hadn't taken three headache inducing visions and a bottle of brandy to bring on the correct time and date they would meet again. "I missed you, Nick."
The way she moved against him was distracting, the grind of her hips against his sending all the wrong signals to his groin. But her top was low cut and she nearly spilled out of the top of it into his hands, and her lips curled into that sickly sweet smile that suddenly seemed seductive. He pulled her to a back room at the club, pushed her up against the wall. His mouth was over hers, her lip gloss sticky and like spun sugar. She stuck her tongue in his mouth without any finesse, her hands on his belt.
He couldn't have stopped it even if he wanted to. He thrust home, deep inside of her, her legs wrapped tight around his waist and her arms around him to keep balance. Nick cupped her ass to help move her up and down over him, then used his ability to Move things to keep her upright so he could rub at her clit. She hissed in pleasure, grinding against his fingers, clenching tight around his cock. She came in a rush, squeaking almost in surprise. Nick followed soon after, his head tucked in the crook of her neck.
"So... uh... I missed you," he said lamely, and was rewarded with Cassie's bright laughter.
"Eyes that Shine." Pitch Black, Riddick/Carolyn, eyes like that, I'm not gonna die for you, animal side
She wasn't supposed to die for him, but Carolyn Fry was a tough and stubborn little bitch and didn't always do what she was told. Riddick had followed her scent on this godforsaken fucking planet, knowing it was hid kind of scent. He had wanted to get her alone on that shuttle, get out to the deep black of space where the only things that shone would be the stars, his eyes and the pale skin of her stomach as he took her clothes off. He wanted to smell her arousal as he tasted her skin, wanted to feel her heart stop when he made her come with just his mouth. Carolyn was supposed to spread herself wide for him, welcome him inside her hot depths, let him smell that flavor of beautiful when she clung to him. The aftershocks would have been good, would have rolled through her like a tidal wave. The shine to his eyes would've let him see her flushed face, the roll of her eyes as she writhed beneath him.
But the creatures took her from him, so it was only fair for him to get a piece of them in return for stealing his chosen mate.
"Shadow." Harry Potter, Harry/Ginny/Tom, ghosts
Ginny smiled, feeling Tom behind her eyes. He was a whisper in her mind, the ghost beneath her skin, the tangle of nightmare and need deep inside of her. Harry didn't see a thing, didn't know to look. He had forgotten she had been possessed, he had forgotten that she knew the way dark things moved and that the shadows held teeth.
She pushed him onto his back, eyes flashing, hearing Tom's voice in her ears and not Harry's protests. "I love you," he was saying, but Tom's voice was louder, the ghost she always carried with her even as she denied it. Ginny straddled Harry's waist, stroked him and impaled herself on his hard cock. Harry was lost in the sensation of her slick wetness, tight like a fist around him. He didn't question her motives, didn't think to ask why she suddenly wanted him inside of her and his hands on her breasts when even the day before she shuddered under his kiss and moved away from his attention.
But Tom needed a body. Tom needed to take physical form, and Harry was foolish enough not to question the shadows in her eyes, not to question the feel of her coming, her nails digging into his shoulders after tracing runic patterns into his skin.
She grinned as she came again, making Tom spill his seed deep inside of her.
"Clean." Witch Hunter Robin, Amon/Robin, fugitive, latin
They were supposed to be dead, and no one was supposed to know they were alive. But Amon had contacts, and they were in a dingy Hong Kong hotel room, waiting on the money and fake ID's that would allow them to travel everywhere and nowhere.
Amon pulled the ribbons from Robin's hair. She watched with silent eyes as he pulled her dress from her body, as he dropped his lips to her pale skin. Robin whimpered when his fingers brushed over her breasts, the nipples growing taut from his attentions. She gasped and clung to him when his fingers found her center, when they slipped inside and his mouth closed over hers. He was gentle, his touch as calming as the Latin prayers Robin had learned in the convent in Italy. He was her benediction, he was her salvation.
When she came in his arms, her soul was wiped clean and they were ready to start over again.