MMOM Day 03: Primeval: Soft Touch
Title: Soft Touch
Author: temaris
Fandom: Primeval
Rating: R
Characters: Abby/Connor
Summary: Some surprises are worth the effort.
Word count: 644
A/N: From a ... well, I'm calling it a prompt by Alyse. She might call it blatantly stealing her first sentence and idea, but I admit nothing.
Kissing Connor always starts out slow and sweet, like she has to work her way up to work her way up to the passion that she knows lies hidden underneath. It's as though Connor wants to be polite, to be thoughtful and generous in this, when what she really wants is his careless eagerness and focused passion. So she has to start out by degrees, pushing and pulling, and taking each piece of hesitation from him until he's moving freely, desperately, too turned on to think; too eager to be patient; too needy to be thoughtful.
He's late home tonight, and Abby misses him. It's not like she minds -- hell, she told him to go, waved him off with a smile and rolled eyes, and the conviction that what she wanted was a nice trashy novel, and hot chocolate, and maybe some of the chocolate ice cream that was carefully hidden in the freezer under a bag of peas. He's spending time with his old mates from Uni, and though they have less and less in common with every passing day; with every death and failure, he still wants that connection: needs it. No, she wants him to have it; god knows the rest of them don't have anything normal in their lives any more.
If they aren't fighting for others to have normal lives, what are they fighting for?
But now it's late, and the novel finished on a high note, the hot chocolate and the ice cream are long gone, and she's in bed, wakeful and horny, and wishing he'd hurry up and get home already.
She turns out the light, pulls up the duvet, wriggling her toes in the warmth. This late, he's going to be a little drunk, probably, when he comes in. She smiles at the thought. He's always easier to push into passion when he's a little toasted. Too much and he just falls asleep -- in which case, he's getting the sofa. But no. Tonight's going to be good, she can tell. She slides her hand down between her legs, pressing gently, rhythmically.
There was that one time he just bounced in, full of beans, excited over some geeky fanboy thing that she didn't quite follow -- hobbits weren't really her thing. Anyway -- and she smiles and closes her eyes, remembering, rubbing lightly -- he'd bounced in, and pounced, kissing her hard, both hands cupping her head, holding her firmly.
Her hips lift a little, and she slides her fingers in deeper.
He'd been burbling madly, utterly unselfconscious, and she'd wanted that: wanted it hard and fast and now, and she'd laughed joyfully, rolled over on top of him, straddling his concave belly. He'd stared up at her, all wide eyed and turned on and beyond hot.
She'd just unzipped his trousers, pulled him through and gone -- she moans a little at the memory -- just gone for it, with hands and mouth and finally when he was trying to grab her ears, she'd knelt on his wrists and settled on his hips, guiding his cock inside her with eager fingers.
He'd just about gone crazy, shoving up, pushing and writhing underneath her until he'd actually sat up, with Abby tight in his lap, and taken a hold of her hips and just...
She shivers at the memory, a little rush of pleasure warming her body, loosening her up. Her fingers move faster, and the duvet slips off --
"A-Abby?"
Her eyes snap open.
Connor is standing at the foot of the bed, pupils blown wide, and a hard on visibly distorting his trousers.
Oh. Well. Looks like getting him to lose a little control isn't going to be too much of a problem after all. And she licks her lips and looks up at him through her lashes.
"Yes?"
Connor pounces.
Author: temaris
Fandom: Primeval
Rating: R
Characters: Abby/Connor
Summary: Some surprises are worth the effort.
Word count: 644
A/N: From a ... well, I'm calling it a prompt by Alyse. She might call it blatantly stealing her first sentence and idea, but I admit nothing.
Kissing Connor always starts out slow and sweet, like she has to work her way up to work her way up to the passion that she knows lies hidden underneath. It's as though Connor wants to be polite, to be thoughtful and generous in this, when what she really wants is his careless eagerness and focused passion. So she has to start out by degrees, pushing and pulling, and taking each piece of hesitation from him until he's moving freely, desperately, too turned on to think; too eager to be patient; too needy to be thoughtful.
He's late home tonight, and Abby misses him. It's not like she minds -- hell, she told him to go, waved him off with a smile and rolled eyes, and the conviction that what she wanted was a nice trashy novel, and hot chocolate, and maybe some of the chocolate ice cream that was carefully hidden in the freezer under a bag of peas. He's spending time with his old mates from Uni, and though they have less and less in common with every passing day; with every death and failure, he still wants that connection: needs it. No, she wants him to have it; god knows the rest of them don't have anything normal in their lives any more.
If they aren't fighting for others to have normal lives, what are they fighting for?
But now it's late, and the novel finished on a high note, the hot chocolate and the ice cream are long gone, and she's in bed, wakeful and horny, and wishing he'd hurry up and get home already.
She turns out the light, pulls up the duvet, wriggling her toes in the warmth. This late, he's going to be a little drunk, probably, when he comes in. She smiles at the thought. He's always easier to push into passion when he's a little toasted. Too much and he just falls asleep -- in which case, he's getting the sofa. But no. Tonight's going to be good, she can tell. She slides her hand down between her legs, pressing gently, rhythmically.
There was that one time he just bounced in, full of beans, excited over some geeky fanboy thing that she didn't quite follow -- hobbits weren't really her thing. Anyway -- and she smiles and closes her eyes, remembering, rubbing lightly -- he'd bounced in, and pounced, kissing her hard, both hands cupping her head, holding her firmly.
Her hips lift a little, and she slides her fingers in deeper.
He'd been burbling madly, utterly unselfconscious, and she'd wanted that: wanted it hard and fast and now, and she'd laughed joyfully, rolled over on top of him, straddling his concave belly. He'd stared up at her, all wide eyed and turned on and beyond hot.
She'd just unzipped his trousers, pulled him through and gone -- she moans a little at the memory -- just gone for it, with hands and mouth and finally when he was trying to grab her ears, she'd knelt on his wrists and settled on his hips, guiding his cock inside her with eager fingers.
He'd just about gone crazy, shoving up, pushing and writhing underneath her until he'd actually sat up, with Abby tight in his lap, and taken a hold of her hips and just...
She shivers at the memory, a little rush of pleasure warming her body, loosening her up. Her fingers move faster, and the duvet slips off --
"A-Abby?"
Her eyes snap open.
Connor is standing at the foot of the bed, pupils blown wide, and a hard on visibly distorting his trousers.
Oh. Well. Looks like getting him to lose a little control isn't going to be too much of a problem after all. And she licks her lips and looks up at him through her lashes.
"Yes?"
Connor pounces.