fic: please just let me do whatever fits you (elle/claire)
Title: please just let me do whatever fits you
Rating: NC-17 (graphic rape)
Pairing: Elle/Claire
Disclaimer: Not mine, making no profit. Title from Queens of the Stone Age
Prompt: "ssh! they'll hear you" at the porn battle
Teaser: Elle's not supposed to have a key to the cell.
Elle’s not supposed to have a key to the cell.
Like she cares.
She can’t get there every night, has to be quiet as a mouse when she sneaks out of her room and through the halls but she’s getting good at visiting Claire every night she can visit. She’s proud of it, has made a habit out of getting dressed before bed and stopping before she leaves her room to dab the perfume on her wrists, her neck.
Before she heads down alone and lets herself into the cell.
Tonight, the figure on the bed shifts slightly in the dark, head lifting, and Elle closes the door behind her, hums a greeting as she steps out of her heels and slips to settle on the mattress.
Claire, half-asleep and turned away, draws closer to the wall to make room for her.
Warmed by it, she slides her body to curl around Claire's the way they both like, nuzzle the back of her neck. “I ate one of those big cinnamon things today, you’d have loved it. I would have brought you one but it would have gotten cold.” Elle reaches around her body to count her knuckles, massage them where they push the mattress restlessly. “I missed you-”
There’s a muffled noise then, and she breathes out quietly when Claire twists in her hold.
Planting another kiss where Claire’s neck meets her shoulder, she smoothes a palm down the girl’s spine, burying a barely-there jolt at the base of her back. A second noise answers her and she hooks two fingers in the stupid pajamas bottoms she’d been so happy to stop wearing years before, lifts her weight to tug the cloth down Claire’s hips.
Claire helps her awkwardly, starts twisting as Elle struggles to peel the fabric down her legs and then flips it all across the room. There’s a scrambling motion, Claire bending clumsily across her body, and she catches the bunched-up tank top, lifts it off with a jerk that makes Claire lose her balance and tumble into a heap.
Elle shudders a little at the skin under her hands as she draws Claire back, mouths the curve of her shoulder eagerly and touches her arms, her wrists, nudges her legs open with a knee. She shudders again when she cages Claire’s body and hears a smothered frenzied noise, feels her buck up furiously for contact. A spark to the back of her knee, another at the juncture of Claire’s thighs and then there’s that perfect high-pitched sound that makes Elle throb when she pushes fingers deep.
Thrusts a few times to get Claire loosened up and then thrusts faster as the noises get higher-pitched.
Elle tightens fingers into now-sweaty hair, bites the side of Claire’s throat and licks the skin gently.
“I know,” she promises as Claire bends back into her hold, digs her knees into the bed and tries to lift for more. “It won’t last forever, Claire-bear, I swear.” A shuddering groan that ends in a sudden cry when Elle pushes her back down, plants her knees and strokes faster, fingers carving hard as Claire lifts her hips to takes her deeper. The noises get louder, even muffled as they are now into the bed, and she closes her eyes at the throb inside her, the growing need to touch herself.
But Claire always comes fast at this point, and Elle always holds on until she does.
Holds on now until there’s that damp little shriek and the body beneath her sags, Claire murmuring thickly as Elle rolls her onto her back. Bends to lick salt from her mouth and kiss her lips, bracing herself with a palm to Claire’s belly as she reaches under her skirt, buries still-wet fingers between her legs. Instead of helping, Claire lays there as Elle grinds fast and frantic, vision blurring as she watches the dim light from under the door highlight the wetness on Claire’s cheeks.
Her motion falters, just a fraction of a second, but then Elle closes her eyes, gets it back again.
Comes moments later and if Claire whimpers then the way she never has before while watching, exhausted and humiliated, Elle doesn’t hear her, the small noise buried under Elle’s rough shout of pleasure.
When Elle settles behind her like always, arms locking tight around her form, Claire doesn't twist to get more comfortable like she usually does.
Rating: NC-17 (graphic rape)
Pairing: Elle/Claire
Disclaimer: Not mine, making no profit. Title from Queens of the Stone Age
Prompt: "ssh! they'll hear you" at the porn battle
Teaser: Elle's not supposed to have a key to the cell.
Elle’s not supposed to have a key to the cell.
Like she cares.
She can’t get there every night, has to be quiet as a mouse when she sneaks out of her room and through the halls but she’s getting good at visiting Claire every night she can visit. She’s proud of it, has made a habit out of getting dressed before bed and stopping before she leaves her room to dab the perfume on her wrists, her neck.
Before she heads down alone and lets herself into the cell.
Tonight, the figure on the bed shifts slightly in the dark, head lifting, and Elle closes the door behind her, hums a greeting as she steps out of her heels and slips to settle on the mattress.
Claire, half-asleep and turned away, draws closer to the wall to make room for her.
Warmed by it, she slides her body to curl around Claire's the way they both like, nuzzle the back of her neck. “I ate one of those big cinnamon things today, you’d have loved it. I would have brought you one but it would have gotten cold.” Elle reaches around her body to count her knuckles, massage them where they push the mattress restlessly. “I missed you-”
There’s a muffled noise then, and she breathes out quietly when Claire twists in her hold.
Planting another kiss where Claire’s neck meets her shoulder, she smoothes a palm down the girl’s spine, burying a barely-there jolt at the base of her back. A second noise answers her and she hooks two fingers in the stupid pajamas bottoms she’d been so happy to stop wearing years before, lifts her weight to tug the cloth down Claire’s hips.
Claire helps her awkwardly, starts twisting as Elle struggles to peel the fabric down her legs and then flips it all across the room. There’s a scrambling motion, Claire bending clumsily across her body, and she catches the bunched-up tank top, lifts it off with a jerk that makes Claire lose her balance and tumble into a heap.
Elle shudders a little at the skin under her hands as she draws Claire back, mouths the curve of her shoulder eagerly and touches her arms, her wrists, nudges her legs open with a knee. She shudders again when she cages Claire’s body and hears a smothered frenzied noise, feels her buck up furiously for contact. A spark to the back of her knee, another at the juncture of Claire’s thighs and then there’s that perfect high-pitched sound that makes Elle throb when she pushes fingers deep.
Thrusts a few times to get Claire loosened up and then thrusts faster as the noises get higher-pitched.
Elle tightens fingers into now-sweaty hair, bites the side of Claire’s throat and licks the skin gently.
“I know,” she promises as Claire bends back into her hold, digs her knees into the bed and tries to lift for more. “It won’t last forever, Claire-bear, I swear.” A shuddering groan that ends in a sudden cry when Elle pushes her back down, plants her knees and strokes faster, fingers carving hard as Claire lifts her hips to takes her deeper. The noises get louder, even muffled as they are now into the bed, and she closes her eyes at the throb inside her, the growing need to touch herself.
But Claire always comes fast at this point, and Elle always holds on until she does.
Holds on now until there’s that damp little shriek and the body beneath her sags, Claire murmuring thickly as Elle rolls her onto her back. Bends to lick salt from her mouth and kiss her lips, bracing herself with a palm to Claire’s belly as she reaches under her skirt, buries still-wet fingers between her legs. Instead of helping, Claire lays there as Elle grinds fast and frantic, vision blurring as she watches the dim light from under the door highlight the wetness on Claire’s cheeks.
Her motion falters, just a fraction of a second, but then Elle closes her eyes, gets it back again.
Comes moments later and if Claire whimpers then the way she never has before while watching, exhausted and humiliated, Elle doesn’t hear her, the small noise buried under Elle’s rough shout of pleasure.
When Elle settles behind her like always, arms locking tight around her form, Claire doesn't twist to get more comfortable like she usually does.