(no subject)
Title: Portland
Author: lindseyrkrpf
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It would always be theirs.
Pairing: Robert/Kristen
Disclaimer: Their lives are not mine.
This was written way, way, way over a year ago - please keep that in mind. It was posted again for asoulenchanted's New Years Throwback. I hope you enjoy.
Her head connected with the brick wall, making her teeth gnash together uncomfortably. He had her by the throat, his leg pressed between both of hers. She couldn’t even gasp out an exclamation of surprise before his mouth came down upon hers - not sweet, like last night’s kiss had been. It was punishing, bruising, painful. She could taste her own blood on his tongue as he pushed it into her mouth without permission, without forgiveness.
“I heard you lied to me,” he gasped out finally, his mouth making its way down her neck. She cried out when he pinched the sensitive skin between his teeth.
“I didn’t,” she said desperately, lying. She had, but not on purpose.
“He took you back,” he spat. “You told me that if you told him about us, he would leave you and we could be together.”
“I didn’t expect him to forgive me,” she pleaded. Hot tears melted down her face.
“I didn’t expect you to be such a fucking coward,” he hissed. He grabbed her wrists and held them above her head. “Russia was supposed to be ours.”
“It still can be… one day…” She wasn’t making any sense, and she knew it.
He shook his head. “He keeps getting all of your firsts,” he said angrily, pinning her with his hips. She struggled halfheartedly, more aroused than she had the right to be. “Your first kiss, your first fuck, your first love. And now, I was stupid enough to believe that I would finally get an experience with you that I wouldn’t have to share with… with that… with that pathetic…”
His anger was wearing down, and she knew that she couldn’t handle the depression that Rob would fall in. So she took his zipper into her tiny, nimble fingers and pushed up the skirt of her black and white striped dress. “He hasn’t experienced me like this,” she persuaded him, taking his already hard cock out of his trousers.
He breathed out of his nose and mouth at the same time, like all of the oxygen in his body was taking up too much room. He hitched her up against the wall and she wrapped her legs around his waist - her slick heat met his unforgiving hardness, heating up the bitter cold Parisian night.
“Do it,” she whispered, threatening him and giving him permission all in the same breath.
He did it. He pushed up into her, and they both didn’t make a sound at the joining of their bodies. All of a sudden, it became a contest of who could be quieter, and who would be the first to break the tight bubble that encompassed them and kept them hidden from the rest of the world. Kristen broke first; the way he curved into her and fucked her so deeply that she could almost feel it in her throat forced a tiny mewling sound through her nose.
That one noise seemed to open Pandora’s box; suddenly, he was talking to her, telling her all sorts of things about the way she felt and the way she looked and how she couldn’t get any wetter, any tighter - and how he knew that no one else, no one else could make him feel like this.
“You make me feel like a fucking animal,” he groaned into her neck, sounding way more pissed off than he had a right to be, especially since she was coming around him. She hit her head against the brick wall again, and the mixture of her release and the pain of her head made her see bright white lights behind her eyes.
He pulled out, but she knew he hadn’t come yet. She was about to question him, when a small male voice emanated behind them.
“Kristen?” It was Michael’s voice, sounding curious, but not angry. He hadn’t seen. He was standing by the exit doors that lead into the alleyway that she and Rob were currently in.
She looked at Rob; his back was to Michael as he casually zipped up his pants. The way his neck was curved, with the sweat dripping down from his face reminded her of last night and what had transpired between them. He had been so elated last night, kissing her with such a gentle, slow heating passion that it quickly climaxed to his frantic, rhythmic thrusts into her body. When he spilled his seed inside of her, he also spilled his heart. Hearing those three words escape his lips while his head was thrown back and his hips were pumping with his last random thrusts had drawn those words out of Kristen, too. She had kissed his face and murmured I love you too so many times that he had really, truly believed it.
She had told him that she wanted to be with him, and only him, and that she was tired of hiding it from Michael, from everyone. She had a fool proof plan - she was going to tell Michael about them, not leaving out any gory details. Michael would be unable to forgive her for finally giving in and sleeping with the enemy, and then she and Rob could be together, after almost a year of dodging the inevitable.
Everything had gone wrong. Michael had hugged her as she fake-cried and forgave her instantly. So she was still with him, and she had broken Rob’s heart… again.
“Right here,” she answered Michael, but she reached out to touch Rob’s face. He was staring at her blankly, watching her reaction to what was about to happen.
“You don’t get to touch me,” Rob whispered, backing away from Kristen’s hand. “Ever again.” But then he immediately took back his words by slamming her against the wall again and kissing her so gently, so possessively that her body, her heart couldn’t help but respond. Even though Michael could clearly hear everything, even though Michael could clearly see everything, she couldn’t help but be stirred by the mixture of her and Rob’s arousal that was still wet and sticky between her legs.
She could hear Michael stalking towards them, various profanities leaving his lips. Rob didn’t even respond to him; instead, he stroked her cheek, his eyes full of ancient sadness. “I love you,” he told her clearly, loudly.
She couldn’t help but start crying. He wiped a tear away.
“It’ll be okay,” he assured her. “You know that I’ll wait for you forever.” It sounded like both a promise and a threat. He stepped away as Michael collided with him; if she wasn’t so upset, it would be almost comical. Michael was a good six inches shorter, and he had to tip his head up to glare into Rob’s blank face. Rob barely moved at the collision, just raised his eyebrows like Michael was an annoying gnat that wouldn’t stop buzzing around him.
Then Rob shoved him so hard that Michael’s drink spilled down the front of him. “Watch your fucking back,” he hissed at Michael, and then stalked back into the Parisian nightclub.
*
Later that night, as Michael kissed down her neck in a booth at the club, she watched Rob nuzzle against one of the French models that had been in the elevator with them earlier at Le Grand Journal. Her heart felt like it was cooking; his eyes were locked on hers as he ground up against the beautiful model’s body.
She broke away from Michael to reach down for her phone. She texted one word to Rob; she saw him dig his phone out of his pocket and read the text as the model shimmied her way down his body.
He looked at up at her and mouthed the word back, his beautiful, clever mouth turning up at one corner.
She couldn’t give him Russia, or Paris, or London. She couldn’t give him a new city that could be theirs, so she reminded him of an old city that would be theirs forever.
Portland.
Author: lindseyrkrpf
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It would always be theirs.
Pairing: Robert/Kristen
Disclaimer: Their lives are not mine.
This was written way, way, way over a year ago - please keep that in mind. It was posted again for asoulenchanted's New Years Throwback. I hope you enjoy.
Her head connected with the brick wall, making her teeth gnash together uncomfortably. He had her by the throat, his leg pressed between both of hers. She couldn’t even gasp out an exclamation of surprise before his mouth came down upon hers - not sweet, like last night’s kiss had been. It was punishing, bruising, painful. She could taste her own blood on his tongue as he pushed it into her mouth without permission, without forgiveness.
“I heard you lied to me,” he gasped out finally, his mouth making its way down her neck. She cried out when he pinched the sensitive skin between his teeth.
“I didn’t,” she said desperately, lying. She had, but not on purpose.
“He took you back,” he spat. “You told me that if you told him about us, he would leave you and we could be together.”
“I didn’t expect him to forgive me,” she pleaded. Hot tears melted down her face.
“I didn’t expect you to be such a fucking coward,” he hissed. He grabbed her wrists and held them above her head. “Russia was supposed to be ours.”
“It still can be… one day…” She wasn’t making any sense, and she knew it.
He shook his head. “He keeps getting all of your firsts,” he said angrily, pinning her with his hips. She struggled halfheartedly, more aroused than she had the right to be. “Your first kiss, your first fuck, your first love. And now, I was stupid enough to believe that I would finally get an experience with you that I wouldn’t have to share with… with that… with that pathetic…”
His anger was wearing down, and she knew that she couldn’t handle the depression that Rob would fall in. So she took his zipper into her tiny, nimble fingers and pushed up the skirt of her black and white striped dress. “He hasn’t experienced me like this,” she persuaded him, taking his already hard cock out of his trousers.
He breathed out of his nose and mouth at the same time, like all of the oxygen in his body was taking up too much room. He hitched her up against the wall and she wrapped her legs around his waist - her slick heat met his unforgiving hardness, heating up the bitter cold Parisian night.
“Do it,” she whispered, threatening him and giving him permission all in the same breath.
He did it. He pushed up into her, and they both didn’t make a sound at the joining of their bodies. All of a sudden, it became a contest of who could be quieter, and who would be the first to break the tight bubble that encompassed them and kept them hidden from the rest of the world. Kristen broke first; the way he curved into her and fucked her so deeply that she could almost feel it in her throat forced a tiny mewling sound through her nose.
That one noise seemed to open Pandora’s box; suddenly, he was talking to her, telling her all sorts of things about the way she felt and the way she looked and how she couldn’t get any wetter, any tighter - and how he knew that no one else, no one else could make him feel like this.
“You make me feel like a fucking animal,” he groaned into her neck, sounding way more pissed off than he had a right to be, especially since she was coming around him. She hit her head against the brick wall again, and the mixture of her release and the pain of her head made her see bright white lights behind her eyes.
He pulled out, but she knew he hadn’t come yet. She was about to question him, when a small male voice emanated behind them.
“Kristen?” It was Michael’s voice, sounding curious, but not angry. He hadn’t seen. He was standing by the exit doors that lead into the alleyway that she and Rob were currently in.
She looked at Rob; his back was to Michael as he casually zipped up his pants. The way his neck was curved, with the sweat dripping down from his face reminded her of last night and what had transpired between them. He had been so elated last night, kissing her with such a gentle, slow heating passion that it quickly climaxed to his frantic, rhythmic thrusts into her body. When he spilled his seed inside of her, he also spilled his heart. Hearing those three words escape his lips while his head was thrown back and his hips were pumping with his last random thrusts had drawn those words out of Kristen, too. She had kissed his face and murmured I love you too so many times that he had really, truly believed it.
She had told him that she wanted to be with him, and only him, and that she was tired of hiding it from Michael, from everyone. She had a fool proof plan - she was going to tell Michael about them, not leaving out any gory details. Michael would be unable to forgive her for finally giving in and sleeping with the enemy, and then she and Rob could be together, after almost a year of dodging the inevitable.
Everything had gone wrong. Michael had hugged her as she fake-cried and forgave her instantly. So she was still with him, and she had broken Rob’s heart… again.
“Right here,” she answered Michael, but she reached out to touch Rob’s face. He was staring at her blankly, watching her reaction to what was about to happen.
“You don’t get to touch me,” Rob whispered, backing away from Kristen’s hand. “Ever again.” But then he immediately took back his words by slamming her against the wall again and kissing her so gently, so possessively that her body, her heart couldn’t help but respond. Even though Michael could clearly hear everything, even though Michael could clearly see everything, she couldn’t help but be stirred by the mixture of her and Rob’s arousal that was still wet and sticky between her legs.
She could hear Michael stalking towards them, various profanities leaving his lips. Rob didn’t even respond to him; instead, he stroked her cheek, his eyes full of ancient sadness. “I love you,” he told her clearly, loudly.
She couldn’t help but start crying. He wiped a tear away.
“It’ll be okay,” he assured her. “You know that I’ll wait for you forever.” It sounded like both a promise and a threat. He stepped away as Michael collided with him; if she wasn’t so upset, it would be almost comical. Michael was a good six inches shorter, and he had to tip his head up to glare into Rob’s blank face. Rob barely moved at the collision, just raised his eyebrows like Michael was an annoying gnat that wouldn’t stop buzzing around him.
Then Rob shoved him so hard that Michael’s drink spilled down the front of him. “Watch your fucking back,” he hissed at Michael, and then stalked back into the Parisian nightclub.
*
Later that night, as Michael kissed down her neck in a booth at the club, she watched Rob nuzzle against one of the French models that had been in the elevator with them earlier at Le Grand Journal. Her heart felt like it was cooking; his eyes were locked on hers as he ground up against the beautiful model’s body.
She broke away from Michael to reach down for her phone. She texted one word to Rob; she saw him dig his phone out of his pocket and read the text as the model shimmied her way down his body.
He looked at up at her and mouthed the word back, his beautiful, clever mouth turning up at one corner.
She couldn’t give him Russia, or Paris, or London. She couldn’t give him a new city that could be theirs, so she reminded him of an old city that would be theirs forever.
Portland.