If The World Ends - Being Human - Annie/George
Title: If The World Ends
Pairing: Annie/George
Word Count: 752
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the Porn Battle
Summary: They find an abandoned house and try to find comfort within.
He's not her knight; she isn't his princess.
That doesn't mean that it doesn't feel good when he kisses her.
His hand supports the small of her back and they sink down onto the bare mattress; no sheets, no covers, no pillows. It's not even theirs, and if she allows George to stop and think about this he'll probably want to stop and disinfect the place first. With her legs spread around his hips and his hard-on unmissable through his jeans, she doesn't think that stopping ought to be an option that is considered.
She peels away his jeans while he kisses her, every stab of contact shocking her to her core: contact, connection, something real and solid and so, so human.
Her clothes fade away with desire and she pulls George into another kiss before he can marvel or freak out about it; she doesn't want to think of the supernatural, not tonight, not when she needs so badly to forget about werewolves and ghosts and afterlife (and vampires, and, god, what Mitchell might be doing right now, who he might be hurting). It needs to be them, just them.
His hands slide up, fingers tracing her ribs, and when he cautiously brushes them against her breasts she sucks in a thick breath: it's been a long time. The last person she'd been with had murdered her.
She thinks that maybe that leaves a girl with issues.
Yet George is so gentle, so careful, that she can't help but relax into it, her hand cupping the back of his head and guiding him down so that his mouth closes over her perked nipple, the heat alone enough to make her entire body tingle.
She gasps his name, holding him there as he sucks and teases her nipple with his tongue. Her cunt gets wetter and wetter, ready for him, desperate to feel something other than the cold.
She nudges his hips to let him know what she wants and he looks up, her nipple released from his mouth. "Are you sure?" he checks - because he's George and he's sweet and, right now, she's never wanted anything more than him, just him.
With a smile she nods insistently, and he rises up from her chest, lips skimming against her mouth as if a kiss might be able to revive her for good. His cock slides into her, stretching her open around him. Her head thuds against the pillow and her eyes screw shut as she feels it: she feels.
Slowly, carefully, George moves into her, taking his time so that he won't hurt her - he's careful with her, so gentle, and it makes her heart break with gratitude to have someone like him in her life. He's the kind of friend that she wishes she had before she died; if she'd known George then, maybe he could have saved her, maybe together they would have been alright.
They're alright now, though - with George inside her she is more than alright, her body igniting, her dead heart racing in a way that she hasn't felt since that tumble down the stairs. "God," she moans, even if she can't believe any more. "Oh my god."
George pants against her neck, pumping into her body, the muscles in his arms holding him up and driving him onwards. Her entire body is trembling, but she wants more, needs it.
"George," she pants. "Please, George. I need more."
She doesn't know what it is, doesn't know how to say what she wants to beg him for, but after a moment passes he provides it anyway, driving into her with more speed and force than before. The bed shakes and creaks and complains at their behaviour, but Annie drowns it out as she moans and cries out, because, yes, this is what she wants, yes, this is what she's been needing.
She's been so desperate for this contact, this friendship, this connection that she doesn't even need her clit touched, no attention required but the long, deep push of George's dick inside her. It pushes her over the edge into that sweet, long-abandoned abyss, her mind going blank while her body takes over, more alive than she has been in far too long.
George follows soon after her, coming with a grunt while her body is still singing to her, and he slumps tiredly onto her, his body coating her own, his welcome heat keeping her warm - keeping her alive, in her heart and smile if nothing else.
Pairing: Annie/George
Word Count: 752
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Written for the Porn Battle
Summary: They find an abandoned house and try to find comfort within.
He's not her knight; she isn't his princess.
That doesn't mean that it doesn't feel good when he kisses her.
His hand supports the small of her back and they sink down onto the bare mattress; no sheets, no covers, no pillows. It's not even theirs, and if she allows George to stop and think about this he'll probably want to stop and disinfect the place first. With her legs spread around his hips and his hard-on unmissable through his jeans, she doesn't think that stopping ought to be an option that is considered.
She peels away his jeans while he kisses her, every stab of contact shocking her to her core: contact, connection, something real and solid and so, so human.
Her clothes fade away with desire and she pulls George into another kiss before he can marvel or freak out about it; she doesn't want to think of the supernatural, not tonight, not when she needs so badly to forget about werewolves and ghosts and afterlife (and vampires, and, god, what Mitchell might be doing right now, who he might be hurting). It needs to be them, just them.
His hands slide up, fingers tracing her ribs, and when he cautiously brushes them against her breasts she sucks in a thick breath: it's been a long time. The last person she'd been with had murdered her.
She thinks that maybe that leaves a girl with issues.
Yet George is so gentle, so careful, that she can't help but relax into it, her hand cupping the back of his head and guiding him down so that his mouth closes over her perked nipple, the heat alone enough to make her entire body tingle.
She gasps his name, holding him there as he sucks and teases her nipple with his tongue. Her cunt gets wetter and wetter, ready for him, desperate to feel something other than the cold.
She nudges his hips to let him know what she wants and he looks up, her nipple released from his mouth. "Are you sure?" he checks - because he's George and he's sweet and, right now, she's never wanted anything more than him, just him.
With a smile she nods insistently, and he rises up from her chest, lips skimming against her mouth as if a kiss might be able to revive her for good. His cock slides into her, stretching her open around him. Her head thuds against the pillow and her eyes screw shut as she feels it: she feels.
Slowly, carefully, George moves into her, taking his time so that he won't hurt her - he's careful with her, so gentle, and it makes her heart break with gratitude to have someone like him in her life. He's the kind of friend that she wishes she had before she died; if she'd known George then, maybe he could have saved her, maybe together they would have been alright.
They're alright now, though - with George inside her she is more than alright, her body igniting, her dead heart racing in a way that she hasn't felt since that tumble down the stairs. "God," she moans, even if she can't believe any more. "Oh my god."
George pants against her neck, pumping into her body, the muscles in his arms holding him up and driving him onwards. Her entire body is trembling, but she wants more, needs it.
"George," she pants. "Please, George. I need more."
She doesn't know what it is, doesn't know how to say what she wants to beg him for, but after a moment passes he provides it anyway, driving into her with more speed and force than before. The bed shakes and creaks and complains at their behaviour, but Annie drowns it out as she moans and cries out, because, yes, this is what she wants, yes, this is what she's been needing.
She's been so desperate for this contact, this friendship, this connection that she doesn't even need her clit touched, no attention required but the long, deep push of George's dick inside her. It pushes her over the edge into that sweet, long-abandoned abyss, her mind going blank while her body takes over, more alive than she has been in far too long.
George follows soon after her, coming with a grunt while her body is still singing to her, and he slumps tiredly onto her, his body coating her own, his welcome heat keeping her warm - keeping her alive, in her heart and smile if nothing else.