Kinks - Haven: Claire/Jordan, "I Heard That You Were Trouble(d), But I Couldn’t Resist"
Title: I Heard That You Were Trouble(d), But I Couldn't Resist
Author: pickledminx
Fandom: Haven
Pairing: Claire/Jordan
Prompt: Drabble Cycle: kinks - texture
Rating: R
Word Count: 250
Summary: They can almost make do…
A/N: Guess I'm gonna need a Haven tag? ;)
They hadn't meant for this to happen. Really, it’d just been drinks and talking and some celebration at the Gull (that Jordan didn't entirely want to come to, but oh well). And then they’re alone, in a secluded spot against the rough wall of the patio, as Jordan grinds into her - tight dark denim against cotton and skin, as the hem of Claire’s dress inches upwards - Jordan slowly rolling her hips until she hits just the right spot - both of them being careful not to kiss; faces coming dangerously close to doing so.
There’s a frustrated hunger in Jordan’s eyes, and probably the same in Claire’s, if she could see herself now. She’d like nothing more than to close the tiny distance between them, while weaving her hand deep into all of that soft black hair that keeps flicking against Claire’s collarbone, whenever Jordan shifts position. For them both to know how the other person’s skin and lips and tongue actually feels, and tastes.
Still, they can almost make do, and a cool, smooth leather begins to slide up Claire’s thigh, and further. It’s a unique sensation, but not unpleasant - the gloved fingers gliding through her increasing wetness, to push into her. Spreading her apart. Palm against clit. Unraveling her.
Claire reaches out to reciprocate, overtop the thin, now-damp fabric of Jordan’s jeans - watching as she makes one of those adorable, aroused faces she does, every time there’s contact that doesn't suck for someone.
They can work this, in way.
Author: pickledminx
Fandom: Haven
Pairing: Claire/Jordan
Prompt: Drabble Cycle: kinks - texture
Rating: R
Word Count: 250
Summary: They can almost make do…
A/N: Guess I'm gonna need a Haven tag? ;)
They hadn't meant for this to happen. Really, it’d just been drinks and talking and some celebration at the Gull (that Jordan didn't entirely want to come to, but oh well). And then they’re alone, in a secluded spot against the rough wall of the patio, as Jordan grinds into her - tight dark denim against cotton and skin, as the hem of Claire’s dress inches upwards - Jordan slowly rolling her hips until she hits just the right spot - both of them being careful not to kiss; faces coming dangerously close to doing so.
There’s a frustrated hunger in Jordan’s eyes, and probably the same in Claire’s, if she could see herself now. She’d like nothing more than to close the tiny distance between them, while weaving her hand deep into all of that soft black hair that keeps flicking against Claire’s collarbone, whenever Jordan shifts position. For them both to know how the other person’s skin and lips and tongue actually feels, and tastes.
Still, they can almost make do, and a cool, smooth leather begins to slide up Claire’s thigh, and further. It’s a unique sensation, but not unpleasant - the gloved fingers gliding through her increasing wetness, to push into her. Spreading her apart. Palm against clit. Unraveling her.
Claire reaches out to reciprocate, overtop the thin, now-damp fabric of Jordan’s jeans - watching as she makes one of those adorable, aroused faces she does, every time there’s contact that doesn't suck for someone.
They can work this, in way.