A Beautiful Disaster (1/1)
Title: A Beautiful Disaster
Fandom: Burn Notice
Rating: M/NC-17
Pairing: Michael/Fiona
Warning(s): contains sexual content, heed rating
Summary: There were times when Michael became afraid, of himself, of her, of the things Fiona silently demanded of him and challenged in him. Afraid of the things he gave into, of the ways he responded to her.
Notes: Enjoy.
There were times when Michael became afraid, of himself, of her, of the things Fiona silently demanded of him and challenged in him. Afraid of the things he gave into, of the ways he responded to her.
There was darkness inside them both, he knew, and the love, the desire, they felt, had a way of stirring it, as their dangerous world strained on them both. In those times when the look in her eyes was smoky, penetrating, and she shivered under his touch but demanded more, in those times when all the sexual encounters were something much darker.
"It's strange," she murmured one night, as she lay nearly completely half-clothed over him, her long hair draped behind her like a bride's veil.
"What is?" he found himself replying back, distracted by the sudden sensation of her breasts against his chest, her hair brushing against his cheek as she leaned down, nipping at his throat. He shuddered at the contact, hissing in a sharp intake of breath as she ran her tongue over the abused flesh.
Michael had trouble keeping his concentration, for she continued to take her explorations lower, making her way down his jaw and neck, teasingly alternating between laps of love bites and feathering kisses as she trailed down his chest. She talked as she went. "It's strange," she continued, "How I feel when I'm with you." She stopped her ministrations, leaning her head against his abdomen as she gazed up at him, and he tenderly smoothed his fingers through her hair.
Sometimes…sometimes it scares her, the things she wants. Like she wants to feel him all over, and never have to let him go again. Sometimes…sometimes it makes her ill to think like that, to think that she wants him to be hers and no one else's, that she wants to be his and no one else's.
He saw all this in her eyes, without need of spoken word. "I know," he said softly, skimming his hand downward to lightly caress her arm.
Sometimes, he has a feeling inside, needing to hold her there with him, make it so she never left him. The thought was always echoing through his head, 'mine, mine, mine'."
Reading his silent response, mirroring her own, she stared up at him for a long moment. Her eyes were dark, unreadable as the night surrounding them, and she made some sort of odd sound, a bitter, humorless chortle.
God, they were fucked.
Fiona whispered this thought, watching him nod reluctantly with agreement, unable to find the gentle words as a lover should use to soothe and reassure. But those words were not what she wanted, not gentle touches or soft reassurances, that much he knew as she lowered her head once more, tracing her tongue along his pectorals, her nails scratching at his sides, not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave marks in the morning.
It wasn't lovemaking; it was something more basic, rougher, more desperate. He felt that strange, yearning desperation as he unclipped her bra, sliding off her skirt and panties to bare her naked to his searching eyes as he tangled his fingers through her hair, and pulled her mouth back to his. Teeth clashed before she opened to his bruising assault, his tongue delving greedily into her mouth, wanting to taste everything she offered and everything he so desperately needed.
He worked his way downward now in a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses, and finally he found that part of her that ached for him, and he teased her, tormented her, assaulted her senses with raw, burning pleasure, causing the ache to grow and grow until finally she was tugging impatiently at his belt, pushing at the waistband of his pants and boxers. Then she was straddling him, taking him inside her, and only oblivion awaited him from there.
He flipped her on her back, and he was mindless, hungry, wanting, lusting, moving inside her a fierceness he couldn't quite control, harder and harder, desperate to get closer, close as he could, closer still. He felt her nails gouging at his back, her voice pleading for the same thing. Harder, harder, deeper, closer, closer, just a little closer. To feel her, inside and out, in his heart, his mind, his body, to feel that unbearable heat wrap around him.
As climax came, it was harsh and mind-blowing, washing over them like the sudden shock of a cold spring rain. He shuddered and bellowed, his shout echoing against the walls as she screamed his name and followed him a moment later, shaking and clenching around him, her nails tearing into his back, her teeth biting into his shoulder in an attempt to smother her call. He emptied into her, and he felt suddenly numb as he spiraled down into hot-cold, hurting-blissful, dark-euphoric pleasure.
It wasn't always just sex. Sometimes, sometimes, the things they felt began to scare him.
He could go through all the pain, all the guilt, all the blame, and try to understand it, but he knew his attempts were futile. She slipped between his fingers as he began his descend into darkness so deep he could no longer find her.
She had always been beautiful in everyway, his Fi, and everything between them had always been ying and yang, heaven or hell. They loved each other, they hurt each other, again, and again, and again, and still they kept coming back for more. They were a train wreck together, tied down by their own stubbornness and insecurities, their messy pasts and present, but they were only half a soul when apart.
They were a beautiful disaster destined to take over his world and drown him along with it. All the love and hope and sacrifice between them, all the pain, and passion, and torment.
He sees her now, and though she hides it well, he knows she is sad, defeated, tittering on the edge of giving up on him completely, and his heart aches so profoundly. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, and there is nothing he can do to end the torment. He is destined for it. For together, they have always been destined, fated to be just one big, beautiful, burning disaster. He would not trade the world for the chaos that came with loving her.
But even that wasn't enough to save him…as she turned her back to him with a definitive goodbye.
Fandom: Burn Notice
Rating: M/NC-17
Pairing: Michael/Fiona
Warning(s): contains sexual content, heed rating
Summary: There were times when Michael became afraid, of himself, of her, of the things Fiona silently demanded of him and challenged in him. Afraid of the things he gave into, of the ways he responded to her.
Notes: Enjoy.
There were times when Michael became afraid, of himself, of her, of the things Fiona silently demanded of him and challenged in him. Afraid of the things he gave into, of the ways he responded to her.
There was darkness inside them both, he knew, and the love, the desire, they felt, had a way of stirring it, as their dangerous world strained on them both. In those times when the look in her eyes was smoky, penetrating, and she shivered under his touch but demanded more, in those times when all the sexual encounters were something much darker.
"It's strange," she murmured one night, as she lay nearly completely half-clothed over him, her long hair draped behind her like a bride's veil.
"What is?" he found himself replying back, distracted by the sudden sensation of her breasts against his chest, her hair brushing against his cheek as she leaned down, nipping at his throat. He shuddered at the contact, hissing in a sharp intake of breath as she ran her tongue over the abused flesh.
Michael had trouble keeping his concentration, for she continued to take her explorations lower, making her way down his jaw and neck, teasingly alternating between laps of love bites and feathering kisses as she trailed down his chest. She talked as she went. "It's strange," she continued, "How I feel when I'm with you." She stopped her ministrations, leaning her head against his abdomen as she gazed up at him, and he tenderly smoothed his fingers through her hair.
Sometimes…sometimes it scares her, the things she wants. Like she wants to feel him all over, and never have to let him go again. Sometimes…sometimes it makes her ill to think like that, to think that she wants him to be hers and no one else's, that she wants to be his and no one else's.
He saw all this in her eyes, without need of spoken word. "I know," he said softly, skimming his hand downward to lightly caress her arm.
Sometimes, he has a feeling inside, needing to hold her there with him, make it so she never left him. The thought was always echoing through his head, 'mine, mine, mine'."
Reading his silent response, mirroring her own, she stared up at him for a long moment. Her eyes were dark, unreadable as the night surrounding them, and she made some sort of odd sound, a bitter, humorless chortle.
God, they were fucked.
Fiona whispered this thought, watching him nod reluctantly with agreement, unable to find the gentle words as a lover should use to soothe and reassure. But those words were not what she wanted, not gentle touches or soft reassurances, that much he knew as she lowered her head once more, tracing her tongue along his pectorals, her nails scratching at his sides, not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave marks in the morning.
It wasn't lovemaking; it was something more basic, rougher, more desperate. He felt that strange, yearning desperation as he unclipped her bra, sliding off her skirt and panties to bare her naked to his searching eyes as he tangled his fingers through her hair, and pulled her mouth back to his. Teeth clashed before she opened to his bruising assault, his tongue delving greedily into her mouth, wanting to taste everything she offered and everything he so desperately needed.
He worked his way downward now in a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses, and finally he found that part of her that ached for him, and he teased her, tormented her, assaulted her senses with raw, burning pleasure, causing the ache to grow and grow until finally she was tugging impatiently at his belt, pushing at the waistband of his pants and boxers. Then she was straddling him, taking him inside her, and only oblivion awaited him from there.
He flipped her on her back, and he was mindless, hungry, wanting, lusting, moving inside her a fierceness he couldn't quite control, harder and harder, desperate to get closer, close as he could, closer still. He felt her nails gouging at his back, her voice pleading for the same thing. Harder, harder, deeper, closer, closer, just a little closer. To feel her, inside and out, in his heart, his mind, his body, to feel that unbearable heat wrap around him.
As climax came, it was harsh and mind-blowing, washing over them like the sudden shock of a cold spring rain. He shuddered and bellowed, his shout echoing against the walls as she screamed his name and followed him a moment later, shaking and clenching around him, her nails tearing into his back, her teeth biting into his shoulder in an attempt to smother her call. He emptied into her, and he felt suddenly numb as he spiraled down into hot-cold, hurting-blissful, dark-euphoric pleasure.
It wasn't always just sex. Sometimes, sometimes, the things they felt began to scare him.
He could go through all the pain, all the guilt, all the blame, and try to understand it, but he knew his attempts were futile. She slipped between his fingers as he began his descend into darkness so deep he could no longer find her.
She had always been beautiful in everyway, his Fi, and everything between them had always been ying and yang, heaven or hell. They loved each other, they hurt each other, again, and again, and again, and still they kept coming back for more. They were a train wreck together, tied down by their own stubbornness and insecurities, their messy pasts and present, but they were only half a soul when apart.
They were a beautiful disaster destined to take over his world and drown him along with it. All the love and hope and sacrifice between them, all the pain, and passion, and torment.
He sees her now, and though she hides it well, he knows she is sad, defeated, tittering on the edge of giving up on him completely, and his heart aches so profoundly. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, and there is nothing he can do to end the torment. He is destined for it. For together, they have always been destined, fated to be just one big, beautiful, burning disaster. He would not trade the world for the chaos that came with loving her.
But even that wasn't enough to save him…as she turned her back to him with a definitive goodbye.