To The Edge and Back - Lost - Daniel/Juliet
Title: To The Edge and Back
Pairing: Daniel/Juliet
Word Count: 2264
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written with a prompt for citrus_taste. PWP.
Summary: Living together in the 1970s, Juliet finds a way to distract Daniel from his research.
Absorbed in his work, he doesn't notice when she slips into his office. Her feet are bare on the wooden floor and make next to no sound at all. When she drapes herself across his back his eyes widen and he clenches tightly onto his pen - but her lips nuzzling against his ear and her familiar scent soon calm him down.
"You scared me, Juliet," Daniel says with a tired smile. Her hand is working its way between the buttons of his shirt. He glances at the clock: it passed midnight over half an hour ago.
"I was waiting for you," she murmurs - and, belatedly, he remembered his promise that he would come to bed 'in a minute'.
He sucks in a guilty breath of air through his teeth and places his pen down on top of the open pages of his journal. "I'm sorry," he says. He's lost count of how many times he's had to apologise for her; he's a bad husband, he knows. An awful one. "I lost track of time."
"I thought so," she confirms. Her fingers are warm as they stroke softly over his chest, sinking deeper and deeper into the material of his chest. Her lips are still close to his ear, soft with every word. "Don't worry; I entertained myself."
He closes his eyes with a shiver as the image of everything she might mean by that comes flickering into his mind. He can see it so clearly, her with her legs spread and her hand moving between them, bringing herself towards orgasm with the fast, efficient movements that he knows she likes. Her longblonde hair would have fallen over her shoulders and caressed her bare skin in the way that he should have been doing, with only her purple negligee preventing her from being fully nude.
With her hands on the back of his office chair, she turns him around so that they are facing each other. He opens his eyes and looks up at her, able to see the red flush of her cheeks.
"I really am sorry," he says.
"'No more late nights'," she echoes his own words back at him. "You promised, Daniel."
"I know. I promised, I remember that. I remember." And that's important enough, that's significant, and he should be happy. They're freed from the island; his mind is working properly again; they're happy. Why isn't it enough? "I'm really close to a break-through now."
He's been 'really close' ever since they ended up in the past, and that was years ago now. He's been working in Ann Arbour with Juliet at his side and it's been such a slow, plodding journey. Science isn't flashy and it certainly isn't fast.
Juliet presses her lips against his temple, lingering there like a promise. "Come to bed with me," she instructs, taking hold of his tie and using that to guide him to his feet. He's powerless to resist her, pausing only to turn his desk's lamp off as he goes.
With his tie as a loose leash, she takes him through to their bedroom. The lights are dim and the sheets are crumpled as she leads him to the bed. Her hands push on his shoulders and he folds to the bed, sitting then lying when she climbs on top of him. Her nightgown rises: she isn't wearing anything underneath and he can feel her, wet and warm, through the material of his trousers. He shivers.
She leans down and takes a kiss from his lips, stealing his breath while she's at it. The way she kisses is always so demanding; he has no choice but to yield to her, happily. Her hands move between them to reach for his black tie, slowly picking at the tight knot that has developed in it over the day.
She sits up and pulls out of their kiss. He can't help but follow her but one of her hands presses against his shoulder. He lies down again. She has taken his tie with her and there's the hint of a grin on her face. When he had first met her, years ago now, he could never have imagined such an expression gracing her lips. He could never have imagined being as in love with her as he is now.
She holds onto his tie with both hands and runs her thumb along the material thoughtfully. "Can I try something?" she asks, as if it has only just occurred to her.
Daniel knows her well enough to tell that this isn't a spur of the moment question at all. His smile is cautious in its excitement. "Anything," he says. "I'm yours."
He thinks that's true. Ownership is difficult to define, but he would do anything for her. Anything she asked.
She leans down to kiss his forehead. "Don't say that," she says. "No one can own another person."
He runs his hand along her spine over the top of the material of her nightgown. "Bad memories?" he asks. Between them, they have two lifetimes' worth of baggage and issues. It shouldn't work, the two of them together. They're both too damaged.
"Nothing you can't fix," she answers, smiling again. He thinks it's hollow, but he doesn't know how to help. "Open up."
He complies automatically, parting his lips for her, and she slots his tie into his mouth. It's unexpected enough to make him laugh in surprise, muffled by the material.
"Is this okay?" she asks.
Her smile is a smirk. It looks right on her. He remembers hearing the stories from the others that had been on the island: in the beginning, she'd been one of the bad guys. When she looks at him like that, he can believe it.
He nods anyway and raises his head so that she can reach behind him and tie a firm knot at the back of his head. The material in his mouth is stretched firm and he can already feel his saliva soaking the tie. She runs her fingertips along the line that it forms along his cheeks and hums in contentment. He is hard, distractingly so, within the confines of his trousers, but he doesn't allow himself to say a word. With the neglect that his work causes him to inflict on her, she should get to do whatever she wants.
He isn't sure what to do with his hands when she begins to pull his trousers open, and after flapping uselessly he places them down on the bed and holds onto the sheets. He's breathing through his nose instead of his mouth and he's watching her with a sense of awe. She is the kind of mystery that no amount of genius could ever pin down; no science could ever explain her.
She climbs off of him so that she can pull his trousers free, and he wriggles, ungainly, to help her. Nude from the waist down, he lies on the mattress and watches her with wide eyes when she climbs back towards him after picking up a condom wrapper from the bedside. The firm muscles of her thighs flex with each crawling step. Her skin is a beautiful colour and he clenches his hands in the covers, unsure whether or not she wants him to reach out and touch.
She kisses his mouth over the gag, a girlish brush of lips against his own. "Just lay back," she instructs. "Let me do everything."
He should feel guilty; he does. She's the one that should be pampered and taken care of. He should treat her like a princess and leave her lost in mindless pleasure.
On the other hand, he thinks as he watches her break open the wrapper of their protection with her teeth, she deserves everything she wants.
And if she wants to take the lead, Daniel doesn't think he's in any position to deny her. That's been the tempo of their relationship - she's always one step ahead of him, and he's always trailing behind in confusion.
Her hand is confident when it slides down over him, and he can't help the jerk of breath that he sucks in through his makeshift gag. Yet the feel of her hand is nothing compared to what it's like when she hooks her leg back over his hips, straddling him. Her long blonde hair falls over her shoulders and she is already slick when she sinks onto him, a telling reminder that she has already brought herself off once tonight. Her heat is amazing, and he bites down on the material in his mouth as his hips thrust upwards of their own accord. He could stay like this forever, he thinks.
Her hands rest upon his shoulders and she rises up from his cock, the strong muscles of her thighs working as she rides him, leaving sharp, wet sounds in her wake. There's something visceral and real about the sound of sex, something dirty and immature. Daniel's eyes are firmly closed as she takes him out of his mind. She's the only one that can make him disconnect so thoroughly, who can chase away all thoughts from his mind. All scientific theories are banished: he is left with her, only her.
She reaches down to take hold of one of his hands where it is clenched into the bedspread and, under her guidance, it travels up her body and under her night dress. His fingers skim over the smoothness of her belly and then his palm is pressed against the soft weight of her breast. It's the perfect size and the skin is so tender. She shivers when his finger explores around the darker skin of her nipple.
His breathing starts to pant in and out through the material of his gag as he starts to feel closer, so much closer, enough that he might come at any second - and she slows. Her pace reduces by a huge amount until it is snail-like. The tingling in his balls begins to fade and he is drawn back from the edge.
His nails drag bluntly over the hardened point of her nipple. She grunts and her hand covers his again, making him press harder. "You made me wait, Dan," she breathes. Her words come on broken pants of air. "I'm making you wait too."
It doesn't strike him what she means by this until she's taken him back and forth several times. She'll take him to the edge with short, sharp rolls of her hips - and then she'll take it all away again, slowing down to a crawl while she leans down to press soft, apologetic kisses against his jaw and around the tight press of his tie against his cheeks.
He'd beg if he could. He'd say anything that she wants him to say. He'd promise the world and work out a way to give it to her.
That isn't the point. Somewhere through the haze, he knows that.
It doesn't stop him from trying anyway, murmuring muffled words behind his tie. She hushes him and presses a soothing kiss against his forehead. Her breasts hang against his chest, round and full. Their nipples brush through his shirt and her night-dress.
"Me first," she says as if she's making a bargain. "Then you."
She sits up straight again like a radiant goddess, and takes hold of his hand. Leading it in between them, she puts his fingers where she wants them - and, this, he can do. It's a delicate methodology and it's something he's had years to perfect. His fingers find her clit; he works hard not to be distracted by the way that he can feel himself embedded within her so close to his hand.
He hears it as her breath starts to hitch and raise as he works his hand over her wet flesh. The way that she moves on top of him has started to speed up again. If she slows down again this time he thinks he's going to have to cry uncle. He'll pull the tie from his mouth and tell her that it's too much; he can't take any more. He's sorry.
Her breath starts squeaking in thin, desperate gasps and her mouth stays open. There's a red flush colouring her cheeks and the air suddenly chokes out of her chest, dragging a loud moan with it. Her entire body clenches around him, so tight and so strong. So beautiful. Spasms jerk through her muscles. The scrape of her nails against his chest barely registers, but she rolls her hips once more with him still inside her and it's enough; it's finally enough.
He climaxes with a muffled cry that leaves him exhausted, while she slumps forward to lean against his chest. They're both sweaty and his mouth feels dry; he feels her shoulders shaking as she starts to laugh. It's hardly the best post-sex reaction, but he can't help but smile as well, held back by the line of material in his mouth.
"Nghf," he says, and that's enough to remind her to reach around and undo the knot at the back of his head. She pulls his tie free and flings it away into the ether before she climbs off of him. He lies on his back, struggling to catch his breath. His entire body feels cruelly abused.
"No more late nights," Juliet tells him, resting her hand against his chest. He realises that he's still wearing his shirt, damp with sweat now, and it makes him smile in open laziness.
"I promise," he says. He's made promises like that before. Juliet shuffles closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He decides that, this time, he is going to keep his word.
Pairing: Daniel/Juliet
Word Count: 2264
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written with a prompt for citrus_taste. PWP.
Summary: Living together in the 1970s, Juliet finds a way to distract Daniel from his research.
Absorbed in his work, he doesn't notice when she slips into his office. Her feet are bare on the wooden floor and make next to no sound at all. When she drapes herself across his back his eyes widen and he clenches tightly onto his pen - but her lips nuzzling against his ear and her familiar scent soon calm him down.
"You scared me, Juliet," Daniel says with a tired smile. Her hand is working its way between the buttons of his shirt. He glances at the clock: it passed midnight over half an hour ago.
"I was waiting for you," she murmurs - and, belatedly, he remembered his promise that he would come to bed 'in a minute'.
He sucks in a guilty breath of air through his teeth and places his pen down on top of the open pages of his journal. "I'm sorry," he says. He's lost count of how many times he's had to apologise for her; he's a bad husband, he knows. An awful one. "I lost track of time."
"I thought so," she confirms. Her fingers are warm as they stroke softly over his chest, sinking deeper and deeper into the material of his chest. Her lips are still close to his ear, soft with every word. "Don't worry; I entertained myself."
He closes his eyes with a shiver as the image of everything she might mean by that comes flickering into his mind. He can see it so clearly, her with her legs spread and her hand moving between them, bringing herself towards orgasm with the fast, efficient movements that he knows she likes. Her longblonde hair would have fallen over her shoulders and caressed her bare skin in the way that he should have been doing, with only her purple negligee preventing her from being fully nude.
With her hands on the back of his office chair, she turns him around so that they are facing each other. He opens his eyes and looks up at her, able to see the red flush of her cheeks.
"I really am sorry," he says.
"'No more late nights'," she echoes his own words back at him. "You promised, Daniel."
"I know. I promised, I remember that. I remember." And that's important enough, that's significant, and he should be happy. They're freed from the island; his mind is working properly again; they're happy. Why isn't it enough? "I'm really close to a break-through now."
He's been 'really close' ever since they ended up in the past, and that was years ago now. He's been working in Ann Arbour with Juliet at his side and it's been such a slow, plodding journey. Science isn't flashy and it certainly isn't fast.
Juliet presses her lips against his temple, lingering there like a promise. "Come to bed with me," she instructs, taking hold of his tie and using that to guide him to his feet. He's powerless to resist her, pausing only to turn his desk's lamp off as he goes.
With his tie as a loose leash, she takes him through to their bedroom. The lights are dim and the sheets are crumpled as she leads him to the bed. Her hands push on his shoulders and he folds to the bed, sitting then lying when she climbs on top of him. Her nightgown rises: she isn't wearing anything underneath and he can feel her, wet and warm, through the material of his trousers. He shivers.
She leans down and takes a kiss from his lips, stealing his breath while she's at it. The way she kisses is always so demanding; he has no choice but to yield to her, happily. Her hands move between them to reach for his black tie, slowly picking at the tight knot that has developed in it over the day.
She sits up and pulls out of their kiss. He can't help but follow her but one of her hands presses against his shoulder. He lies down again. She has taken his tie with her and there's the hint of a grin on her face. When he had first met her, years ago now, he could never have imagined such an expression gracing her lips. He could never have imagined being as in love with her as he is now.
She holds onto his tie with both hands and runs her thumb along the material thoughtfully. "Can I try something?" she asks, as if it has only just occurred to her.
Daniel knows her well enough to tell that this isn't a spur of the moment question at all. His smile is cautious in its excitement. "Anything," he says. "I'm yours."
He thinks that's true. Ownership is difficult to define, but he would do anything for her. Anything she asked.
She leans down to kiss his forehead. "Don't say that," she says. "No one can own another person."
He runs his hand along her spine over the top of the material of her nightgown. "Bad memories?" he asks. Between them, they have two lifetimes' worth of baggage and issues. It shouldn't work, the two of them together. They're both too damaged.
"Nothing you can't fix," she answers, smiling again. He thinks it's hollow, but he doesn't know how to help. "Open up."
He complies automatically, parting his lips for her, and she slots his tie into his mouth. It's unexpected enough to make him laugh in surprise, muffled by the material.
"Is this okay?" she asks.
Her smile is a smirk. It looks right on her. He remembers hearing the stories from the others that had been on the island: in the beginning, she'd been one of the bad guys. When she looks at him like that, he can believe it.
He nods anyway and raises his head so that she can reach behind him and tie a firm knot at the back of his head. The material in his mouth is stretched firm and he can already feel his saliva soaking the tie. She runs her fingertips along the line that it forms along his cheeks and hums in contentment. He is hard, distractingly so, within the confines of his trousers, but he doesn't allow himself to say a word. With the neglect that his work causes him to inflict on her, she should get to do whatever she wants.
He isn't sure what to do with his hands when she begins to pull his trousers open, and after flapping uselessly he places them down on the bed and holds onto the sheets. He's breathing through his nose instead of his mouth and he's watching her with a sense of awe. She is the kind of mystery that no amount of genius could ever pin down; no science could ever explain her.
She climbs off of him so that she can pull his trousers free, and he wriggles, ungainly, to help her. Nude from the waist down, he lies on the mattress and watches her with wide eyes when she climbs back towards him after picking up a condom wrapper from the bedside. The firm muscles of her thighs flex with each crawling step. Her skin is a beautiful colour and he clenches his hands in the covers, unsure whether or not she wants him to reach out and touch.
She kisses his mouth over the gag, a girlish brush of lips against his own. "Just lay back," she instructs. "Let me do everything."
He should feel guilty; he does. She's the one that should be pampered and taken care of. He should treat her like a princess and leave her lost in mindless pleasure.
On the other hand, he thinks as he watches her break open the wrapper of their protection with her teeth, she deserves everything she wants.
And if she wants to take the lead, Daniel doesn't think he's in any position to deny her. That's been the tempo of their relationship - she's always one step ahead of him, and he's always trailing behind in confusion.
Her hand is confident when it slides down over him, and he can't help the jerk of breath that he sucks in through his makeshift gag. Yet the feel of her hand is nothing compared to what it's like when she hooks her leg back over his hips, straddling him. Her long blonde hair falls over her shoulders and she is already slick when she sinks onto him, a telling reminder that she has already brought herself off once tonight. Her heat is amazing, and he bites down on the material in his mouth as his hips thrust upwards of their own accord. He could stay like this forever, he thinks.
Her hands rest upon his shoulders and she rises up from his cock, the strong muscles of her thighs working as she rides him, leaving sharp, wet sounds in her wake. There's something visceral and real about the sound of sex, something dirty and immature. Daniel's eyes are firmly closed as she takes him out of his mind. She's the only one that can make him disconnect so thoroughly, who can chase away all thoughts from his mind. All scientific theories are banished: he is left with her, only her.
She reaches down to take hold of one of his hands where it is clenched into the bedspread and, under her guidance, it travels up her body and under her night dress. His fingers skim over the smoothness of her belly and then his palm is pressed against the soft weight of her breast. It's the perfect size and the skin is so tender. She shivers when his finger explores around the darker skin of her nipple.
His breathing starts to pant in and out through the material of his gag as he starts to feel closer, so much closer, enough that he might come at any second - and she slows. Her pace reduces by a huge amount until it is snail-like. The tingling in his balls begins to fade and he is drawn back from the edge.
His nails drag bluntly over the hardened point of her nipple. She grunts and her hand covers his again, making him press harder. "You made me wait, Dan," she breathes. Her words come on broken pants of air. "I'm making you wait too."
It doesn't strike him what she means by this until she's taken him back and forth several times. She'll take him to the edge with short, sharp rolls of her hips - and then she'll take it all away again, slowing down to a crawl while she leans down to press soft, apologetic kisses against his jaw and around the tight press of his tie against his cheeks.
He'd beg if he could. He'd say anything that she wants him to say. He'd promise the world and work out a way to give it to her.
That isn't the point. Somewhere through the haze, he knows that.
It doesn't stop him from trying anyway, murmuring muffled words behind his tie. She hushes him and presses a soothing kiss against his forehead. Her breasts hang against his chest, round and full. Their nipples brush through his shirt and her night-dress.
"Me first," she says as if she's making a bargain. "Then you."
She sits up straight again like a radiant goddess, and takes hold of his hand. Leading it in between them, she puts his fingers where she wants them - and, this, he can do. It's a delicate methodology and it's something he's had years to perfect. His fingers find her clit; he works hard not to be distracted by the way that he can feel himself embedded within her so close to his hand.
He hears it as her breath starts to hitch and raise as he works his hand over her wet flesh. The way that she moves on top of him has started to speed up again. If she slows down again this time he thinks he's going to have to cry uncle. He'll pull the tie from his mouth and tell her that it's too much; he can't take any more. He's sorry.
Her breath starts squeaking in thin, desperate gasps and her mouth stays open. There's a red flush colouring her cheeks and the air suddenly chokes out of her chest, dragging a loud moan with it. Her entire body clenches around him, so tight and so strong. So beautiful. Spasms jerk through her muscles. The scrape of her nails against his chest barely registers, but she rolls her hips once more with him still inside her and it's enough; it's finally enough.
He climaxes with a muffled cry that leaves him exhausted, while she slumps forward to lean against his chest. They're both sweaty and his mouth feels dry; he feels her shoulders shaking as she starts to laugh. It's hardly the best post-sex reaction, but he can't help but smile as well, held back by the line of material in his mouth.
"Nghf," he says, and that's enough to remind her to reach around and undo the knot at the back of his head. She pulls his tie free and flings it away into the ether before she climbs off of him. He lies on his back, struggling to catch his breath. His entire body feels cruelly abused.
"No more late nights," Juliet tells him, resting her hand against his chest. He realises that he's still wearing his shirt, damp with sweat now, and it makes him smile in open laziness.
"I promise," he says. He's made promises like that before. Juliet shuffles closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He decides that, this time, he is going to keep his word.