Call Off Your Ghost, Crossover, Pacific Rim (2012)/The Unit, Mack Gerhardt/Mako Mori, substituteotherbellaFebruary 6 2014, 17:49:12 UTC
In a hidden alcove of the 'Dome, pressed against the metal wall, Mako hitches up, wraps her ankles around the Ranger's hips. Mack's lips feel different, harder, more insistent against Mako's mouth. Her hands grip at his shoulders through his shirt, the thin cotton soft under her fingers when Mako's used to wool, to leather, to the rasp of canvas.
There's none of the reverence, the quiet respect Herc always pays her and it's exciting, so far out of her comfort zone that Mako wonders who she's turned into. It's wrong, Mako knows it, it's just - they share the same face, the same body, down to the lines and ridges of battle imprinted on their skin. But Herc would never disrespect Stacker like this, has never gone beyond a soft, cautious brush of his mouth in greeting against hers. She's been on fire for him since she was a girl, and she doesn't want to - can't wait any longer.
It's not a coincidence this team shows up, this man with his face, while Mako's in Alaska. It's a sign, and she's not passing it by.
Mack pushes her feet down and pops the button on her fatigues, slides his fingers into her panties, his fingers rough against warm skin. His teeth nip against her ear when he slides his middle finger inside of her.
"So wet, is that all for me?" He sounds impressed when he murmurs into her neck, rotating his wrist so his thumb bumps against her clit. He presses in, curls his finger inside her at the same time so her head falls back, a sound of wordless approval trapped between the clench of her teeth.
His eyes flick to hers, the same clear blue, and she shoves against his hand, grinding her hips into him. A smile, thin and wicked, curves across his face.
"Jesus, Mako, I want to make you scream." The gravel in his voice is hard, like the bump of his cock against her side, and his mouth closes over hers again, his other hand fisted in the hair at the base of her skull. She's thankful for the loose fit of her kit, he slips another finger in, pushes deep, rocks his palm into her.
"We had more time, I'd spread you out, get between those pretty thighs for a while, fuck you with my tongue before I get my cock into you." He thrusts his fingers hard, a staccato burst timed with his words, and she feels the tight coil, deep in her belly, wants to cry out in frustration because she's so close.
"Come for me, Mako." Mack scrapes his chin across her skin and the prickly scratch of whiskers shoves her off the edge. Her moan echoes down the hall, bouncing off the steel, waves of release pulsing through her body.
Mack braces her with his free arm, lets her collapse against his chest, lips soft now against her hair. This, this is familiar, the wall of his chest against her cheek, the rest of his jaw on the top of her head.
Squeezing her eyes shut, even though she knows it's terribly unfair, Mako can almost imagine he's someone else.
There's none of the reverence, the quiet respect Herc always pays her and it's exciting, so far out of her comfort zone that Mako wonders who she's turned into. It's wrong, Mako knows it, it's just - they share the same face, the same body, down to the lines and ridges of battle imprinted on their skin. But Herc would never disrespect Stacker like this, has never gone beyond a soft, cautious brush of his mouth in greeting against hers. She's been on fire for him since she was a girl, and she doesn't want to - can't wait any longer.
It's not a coincidence this team shows up, this man with his face, while Mako's in Alaska. It's a sign, and she's not passing it by.
Mack pushes her feet down and pops the button on her fatigues, slides his fingers into her panties, his fingers rough against warm skin. His teeth nip against her ear when he slides his middle finger inside of her.
"So wet, is that all for me?" He sounds impressed when he murmurs into her neck, rotating his wrist so his thumb bumps against her clit. He presses in, curls his finger inside her at the same time so her head falls back, a sound of wordless approval trapped between the clench of her teeth.
His eyes flick to hers, the same clear blue, and she shoves against his hand, grinding her hips into him. A smile, thin and wicked, curves across his face.
"Jesus, Mako, I want to make you scream." The gravel in his voice is hard, like the bump of his cock against her side, and his mouth closes over hers again, his other hand fisted in the hair at the base of her skull. She's thankful for the loose fit of her kit, he slips another finger in, pushes deep, rocks his palm into her.
"We had more time, I'd spread you out, get between those pretty thighs for a while, fuck you with my tongue before I get my cock into you." He thrusts his fingers hard, a staccato burst timed with his words, and she feels the tight coil, deep in her belly, wants to cry out in frustration because she's so close.
"Come for me, Mako." Mack scrapes his chin across her skin and the prickly scratch of whiskers shoves her off the edge. Her moan echoes down the hall, bouncing off the steel, waves of release pulsing through her body.
Mack braces her with his free arm, lets her collapse against his chest, lips soft now against her hair. This, this is familiar, the wall of his chest against her cheek, the rest of his jaw on the top of her head.
Squeezing her eyes shut, even though she knows it's terribly unfair, Mako can almost imagine he's someone else.
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