(Untitled)

[keira_nightly]

Later that morning.DBY is bustling with activity today, from the shoot in full-swing in studio B to the plumbers called in to fix the downstairs restroom. There's a few girls in wardrobe fiddling with wigs, and Johnny has been running back and forth from his office to the studio, stopping to make the girls giggle with compliments only Johnny can

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[billboyd]

Bill can see Keira just at the corner of his perception. She's at the far end of the hall, arms full of tape boxes, and he could pretend he doesn't see her, pretend he's utterly absorbed in his job or some bollocks like that, but there's a little smile on her face, and she's leaning back against the frame of the door to the editing room, and for a moment her eyes are closed and she's just...

She's just fucking glowing today.

He shakes his head a little, looks at her again, but she's still doing it, and he can't help but smile a little at it, and the idea of her glowing because of him sends warm, twisting signals to bits of his body that have no business being signalled at the moment, dammit.

She remembers herself after a moment, apparently, and straightens up and disappears into the editing room. Normally Mark would be in there, splicing and whatnot, but Bill happens to know, from his excellent front-desk vantage-point, that Mark left for lunch about ten minutes ago, and that room is now empty.

Except for Keira.

I'm not a

[keira_nightly]

The strategic spread of Mark's snack foods and cans of Pepsi around the monitors indicate a temporary halt of production in favour, she guess, of eating elsewhere. She stacks the 3/4 inch tapes on top of the half-dozen cases by Mark's Danger Mouse mousepad and plucks a chocolate from its opened box on top of last month's memos.

She pops it into her mouth as she rounds the desk, humming the last song to play in her car on the way here. She turns and walks backwards for a few steps, balling the wrapper and shooting it at the wastebasket at the other end of the room. Three-pointer! She cheers wordlessly, arms up and mouth sticking with fudge, and twirls around in time to walk into Bill, who's sporting what looks suspiciously like a full-fledged grin on his face. Certainly looks like it from this close up.

"HMM!" she exclaims then swallows and grins sheepishly, her arms (tiggling pleasantly) going around his neck. "Hello, you."

[billboyd]

He slides his hands around her waist and under the back of her pink shirt, smirking at her sheepish expression. "Impressive shot," he says, deadpan, and is rewarded immediately with a rosy flush on her cheeks. "Going to lose you to profession athletics, am I?"

She shoves playfully at his shoulder and opens her mouth to retort. He doesn't resist the impulse to stop her with his lips, and she tastes like chocolate, cooperative chocolate, even if she is snickering slightly into his mouth.

He gooses her, chuckles back at her indignant, if muffled, shrill of protest. "It's not nice to laugh at the bloke kissing you, quaen," he murmurs against her lips. Her hands are busy gripping one of his shoulders and the back of his neck. "You're liable to damage my fragile self-esteem. Kissing's serious business, you know."

She makes an indeterminate sound, really too muffled to make any sort of sense with his tongue in her mouth. Bill does the polite thing, and removes it. "Don't talk with your mouth full," he chides.

[keira_nightly]

She presses both palms to his cheeks and levels her gaze with him, mock-stern. "Wasn't planning on talking."

And because he's smart enough to expect it without talking back, she kisses him--hard--smiling, still, at the groan rumbling in his throat. She squirms closer, his hands fisted in her shirt, and bites at his chin not quite gently.

"Why hadn't we done this before? We're really behind. We have to shag every night for weeks now. At least."

[billboyd]

"I didn't know we were on a timetable," he chuckles, but he's not about to discourage her, now that she's nuzzling at his neck, licking with wet little laps of her tongue up the side of his jaw, which feels hot and a little raspy, since he hadn't managed to shave that morning.

She mmm's into his neck, her hands stroking downward from his chest to curl around his belt and jerk him forward, hard. His half-hard on doesn't require much encouragement to become a full hard on, especially not whilst pressed up against Keira's warm and squirming body.

Not going to shag in here, he thinks, but the thought is distant, and far less important than her mouth moving lazily up his neck and her breasts pressed softly against his chest. His hands ignore his good intentions and stray downward across the denim of her skirt. To his delight, he discovers that though her skirt is long, it's slit up both sides to mid thigh, and working his hands under it is rather easier than he'd expected. He strokes his thumbs across smooth, naked skin, and then

[keira_nightly]

She never gets tired of the feel of a body's response to hers, or what sheer proximity can do if used right, though she wouldn't quite admit to it being calculated, not in this case, never with him so far. It's a bit like she can't help wanting to be this close to him, ankle to mouth, hips to hips.

The harder tug at her knickers (and yeah, that had been on purpose, though not quite in-character for her; she's glad to gesture didn't go unnoticed or worse, mocked) makes her breath stutter against his ear.

"Maybe tomorrow," she breathes out in an unsteady and not at all sultry smile against the wet angle of his jaw, "I'll outdo myself and go for neither." The fingers curled around his belt slip in further, lingering a little at the warmth of soft hairs against her knuckle before squeezing past further.

[billboyd]

"Fuck," he snarls (oops, that's not romantic, is it?) as her warm fingers slip down the shaft of his cock and then curl around, and her palm is soft and warm. He pushes through her hand, friction momentarily overshadowing reason.

His fingers twist into her knickers and jerk her closer, and she purrs against his lips, and hooks a thigh over his hip.

This isn't a good idea, of course. In spite of that, he's turning her, angling her back so that she's pressed against a desk, which cants her hips slightly upward. She braces herself with one hand behind her and he slides the hand not occupied with her knickers (sliding downward, slipping into the leg to feel the silky hair curling against his fingertips) up under her shirt (no bra, does the girl even bloody own one?) to palm her breast.

"Can I..." he growls (oh, this is a bad idea, but fuck, he doesn't care), "quaen..."

[keira_nightly]

As if he needed to ask, as if she hadn't made it clear the night before, and just now, and weeks and weeks before this, that he could.

She nods wordlessly, clenching her jaw for a brief moment of screaming arousal when the rougher tips of his fingers graze her sex under the damp silk of her knickers. Her kisses her, almost too hard and just right, and she pushes herself up so she's sitting against the edge of the desk. Her leg curls in to bring him closer still when the new position allows him to slide fingertips through her folds, without pushing in.

She fumbles at his shirt ineffectually, one-handed, fingers both too slack and tense to be dextrous.

[billboyd]

She's already slick and so hot, and she's shifted just perfectly to give him access (of course she has, Boyd, you twat, she fucking does this for a living) to her, and he takes full advantage of it, the legband of her knickers hooked to one side by the curve of his thumb, his fingertips sliding against warmth and heat while she makes little noises -- God, he fucking loves that -- and the hand on the outside of his clothing fumbles and the hand on the inside of his clothing squeezes

[keira_nightly]

The quick succession of unwitting sweetness and begrudging mutters makes her laugh, and the way it shakes her body spins what's already there a little more out of control. She lifts her hips to he can push her skirt up her thighs completely, settling against between her legs, this time snug against her, the hard press of his cock and of her hand circling it snug against her cunt, and his hand parting it slickly.

There's a fumbling shift of limbs during which Bill slides his hand around her thigh and dips between them again, and Keira uses both hands to undo the buckle of Bill's trousers and push them down, just enough. She has to prop a hand behind herself again for balance, and the other goes to his hip, keeping him close but just far enough to get in, panted:

"Bill. We need a condom. Shite."

[billboyd]

"Fucking genius," he mutters, and fumbles at his sportcoat, which is awkward because he has his right hand between her thighs and is unwilling to remove it, and the box is in the left interior pocket of his coat. After a few struggling seconds (during which he presses a finger into her, feeling the heated, slick slide of her, and she's gasping into his mouth, ah ah ah, and he's pretty sure he's cursing into her mouth, and surely this is the most ridiculous thing he's ever done, so why does he feel like he's going to fucking die if he isn't inside her within the next thirty seconds?) he manages to get it out, dropping it onto the desk beside her to tear it open with one hand

[keira_nightly]

With his teeth biting at her mouth and his hips all but thrusting against her hands she's surprised she gets it done at all, but when she finally pulls away to let her breath catch up with her pulse for a second, the condom is slick and taut over Bill's cock in her hand.

The over-sensitive inside of her arm is rubbing up against his--the muscles and bones shifting under his skin with every twitch of his fingers inside her--and she just closes her eyes for a moment to feel it, the seemingly innocuous touch of crooks of elbows made absurdly erotic by the situation, by the way his thumb circles her clit almost knowingly by now. She can't bite back a loud moan when Bill's hand, once she frees the condom out of it, slides up her front to palm her breast.

Her mouth slacks against his for a heartbeat and she just lets him kiss her, deep and wet. Her legs tighten around him, drawing him closer. "Bill..."