Fine (rated R, Mick/Beth)
Title: Fine
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Post-Sonata. Still in the early stages of Mick and Beth sorting out the rules and how this is all going to work. Everything is young and relatively fragile.
Smut for Hydriotaphia on her birthday ('cept I was late. Whoops.)
One of the last few ML stories I'm eking out.
Mick snapped from the cold twilight he called sleep. It wasn't the silent stalk of Josef. The door dinged shut and the padding of human feet hit his ears. When he opened his eyes, she was above him, tapping nail against the glass.
“'Morning,” Beth leaned forward, a tumble of breasts peeking from the black jacket she'd donned for the evening wake up call. She slid one of those nails into the seal of the freezer and the scent of her filled his nostrils. Fangs descended with a hard ache.
The door opened and she leaned in, dropped a warm hand to the rough of his face, then moving lower.
“Mmm, no clothes. Nice,” Beth licked her lips and kept wandering.
"No," Mick caught her hand and steeled himself against bringing it to his lips, letting her blood run over his lips, past his tongue...
"Yes," Beth tried to sneak a hand back to him.
“Not now, Beth,” he swept her hands off and crawled out of the freezer. He blinked off ice crystals and let something beyond the taste of her trickle into his consciousness. But there she was, coat shrugged to her shoulders, framing her in black and red silk and lace, so very tasty.
“Why?”
“I'm hungry.”
“That's fine. So am I,” she moved fast and had her mouth on him. As if she was the one who wanted to eat him alive. For just a breath, he let her. Then the world was red, she was red. He ached for the throb of her, one light rip beneath the wash of skin. His tongue about to lap when he shook her off.
"You push, Beth. Always pushing," Mick's eyes flashed.
“Aren't we cranky?” Beth blinked, hesitated, but moved toward him again. He was on her in an instant. He forced her back, knees grazing her thighs as she stumbled backward to the wall. Mick grabbed her wrists and fixed them to her sides in his grip.
"I'm dangerous, Beth,” the coat dropped and nothing but red silk was between them. She shivered, looking down at Mick pressed against her. “You need to learn to be afraid."
"You're scared enough for the both of us,” Beth looked up. “I think you're actually scared I'll like it."
"You're wrong," this time Mick came at her. He knocked her knees apart, let her feel him against her, teeth and cock, the tremble of anger, hunger, lust. "I know you will. That's what worries me."
“I'm a big girl, Mick. Let me worry about that. You worry about the fact that I spend my nights without you. And sometimes, I wake up alone at night, screaming your name, Mick," Beth whispered. She leaned in and he felt her lips against his ear. "Make me scream."
He covered her mouth, so firm her lips couldn't move. Then he ripped the silk straps, slippery in his hands, and her breasts met the chill air.
Mick grazed a fang against her, so careful of flesh that tore like tissue paper beneath him. He tasted her, salty skin and fear and hope. He let go of her mouth, but she didn't move, didn't speak.
He slid a finger up the smooth of her thigh, a shiver chasing him as he inched toward her. A callused thumb played at the edges of her, the soft downy hair, his touch making a pop deep inside her.
Mick fell to his knees. His fingers trilled from the wet above to the smooth below, the blue vein rising. His tongue replaced fingers and Beth's knees quaked. A high groan rang out as he ran his freed fingers over the curve of her hip, then grabbed her by the waist and spread her on the floor, the abandoned coat a pallet on the floor.
She arched against him and he bit, hard. Beth spilled into him, her warm into his cold. He suckled her thigh, the sweet spice of her filling him as he played fingers in the wet so close. Mick traced the soft skin as he drank. Her thighs tightened around him and the blood swelled. He let it drip down the cream skin before chasing it, running tongue and fang over her skin. He could drink endlessly and never quench his thirst for her. He gulped, dreaming of her tender muscle in his mouth, a rip, with streams of blood on his face, his hands, his mouth, an ocean of her for him.
He squeezed the leg in his hand and Beth squealed.
One last lick and he slid over her, tongue moving up, over the plane of her stomach and his fingers followed leaving blushes of blood at her breasts, her neck. She squirmed and the perfume of her blood between her legs rose.
“Mick, please, please, please,” Beth shifted beneath him, tilting, back arched.
The vampire slid his cock over the bite below, smearing the blood, tracking it back into her.
He pushed inside and rocked a steady beat of thrusts and licks. Her hips moved in time with him. Beth's breath heaved, gasps and moans matching the slick sound of skin on skin.
Seconds spun into minutes as muscles tensed and tightened, the heat building and pressure rising in Beth.
And then she screamed. And screamed and screamed, echoing in the cold corners.
Mick finished, collapsed against Beth as she gasped for breath. A last pump and he pulled out.
He shifted to her side. She pressed her cheek to his, blood drying between her legs and muscles screaming. Mick eased her against him, trading back his stolen warmth.
“Are you okay?” Mick could almost hear her skin knitting itself together. He wiped the blood from his mouth.
“Yes. I’m fine,” Beth said. “It's fine. We're fine.”
Mick stared at the pale woman sprawled against him, covered in sweat and blood, the web of scars at her wrist, a new one knitting below. He listened to her heart pumping, the whispers of the blood still in her veins.
“Yeah, just fine.”
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Post-Sonata. Still in the early stages of Mick and Beth sorting out the rules and how this is all going to work. Everything is young and relatively fragile.
Smut for Hydriotaphia on her birthday ('cept I was late. Whoops.)
One of the last few ML stories I'm eking out.
Mick snapped from the cold twilight he called sleep. It wasn't the silent stalk of Josef. The door dinged shut and the padding of human feet hit his ears. When he opened his eyes, she was above him, tapping nail against the glass.
“'Morning,” Beth leaned forward, a tumble of breasts peeking from the black jacket she'd donned for the evening wake up call. She slid one of those nails into the seal of the freezer and the scent of her filled his nostrils. Fangs descended with a hard ache.
The door opened and she leaned in, dropped a warm hand to the rough of his face, then moving lower.
“Mmm, no clothes. Nice,” Beth licked her lips and kept wandering.
"No," Mick caught her hand and steeled himself against bringing it to his lips, letting her blood run over his lips, past his tongue...
"Yes," Beth tried to sneak a hand back to him.
“Not now, Beth,” he swept her hands off and crawled out of the freezer. He blinked off ice crystals and let something beyond the taste of her trickle into his consciousness. But there she was, coat shrugged to her shoulders, framing her in black and red silk and lace, so very tasty.
“Why?”
“I'm hungry.”
“That's fine. So am I,” she moved fast and had her mouth on him. As if she was the one who wanted to eat him alive. For just a breath, he let her. Then the world was red, she was red. He ached for the throb of her, one light rip beneath the wash of skin. His tongue about to lap when he shook her off.
"You push, Beth. Always pushing," Mick's eyes flashed.
“Aren't we cranky?” Beth blinked, hesitated, but moved toward him again. He was on her in an instant. He forced her back, knees grazing her thighs as she stumbled backward to the wall. Mick grabbed her wrists and fixed them to her sides in his grip.
"I'm dangerous, Beth,” the coat dropped and nothing but red silk was between them. She shivered, looking down at Mick pressed against her. “You need to learn to be afraid."
"You're scared enough for the both of us,” Beth looked up. “I think you're actually scared I'll like it."
"You're wrong," this time Mick came at her. He knocked her knees apart, let her feel him against her, teeth and cock, the tremble of anger, hunger, lust. "I know you will. That's what worries me."
“I'm a big girl, Mick. Let me worry about that. You worry about the fact that I spend my nights without you. And sometimes, I wake up alone at night, screaming your name, Mick," Beth whispered. She leaned in and he felt her lips against his ear. "Make me scream."
He covered her mouth, so firm her lips couldn't move. Then he ripped the silk straps, slippery in his hands, and her breasts met the chill air.
Mick grazed a fang against her, so careful of flesh that tore like tissue paper beneath him. He tasted her, salty skin and fear and hope. He let go of her mouth, but she didn't move, didn't speak.
He slid a finger up the smooth of her thigh, a shiver chasing him as he inched toward her. A callused thumb played at the edges of her, the soft downy hair, his touch making a pop deep inside her.
Mick fell to his knees. His fingers trilled from the wet above to the smooth below, the blue vein rising. His tongue replaced fingers and Beth's knees quaked. A high groan rang out as he ran his freed fingers over the curve of her hip, then grabbed her by the waist and spread her on the floor, the abandoned coat a pallet on the floor.
She arched against him and he bit, hard. Beth spilled into him, her warm into his cold. He suckled her thigh, the sweet spice of her filling him as he played fingers in the wet so close. Mick traced the soft skin as he drank. Her thighs tightened around him and the blood swelled. He let it drip down the cream skin before chasing it, running tongue and fang over her skin. He could drink endlessly and never quench his thirst for her. He gulped, dreaming of her tender muscle in his mouth, a rip, with streams of blood on his face, his hands, his mouth, an ocean of her for him.
He squeezed the leg in his hand and Beth squealed.
One last lick and he slid over her, tongue moving up, over the plane of her stomach and his fingers followed leaving blushes of blood at her breasts, her neck. She squirmed and the perfume of her blood between her legs rose.
“Mick, please, please, please,” Beth shifted beneath him, tilting, back arched.
The vampire slid his cock over the bite below, smearing the blood, tracking it back into her.
He pushed inside and rocked a steady beat of thrusts and licks. Her hips moved in time with him. Beth's breath heaved, gasps and moans matching the slick sound of skin on skin.
Seconds spun into minutes as muscles tensed and tightened, the heat building and pressure rising in Beth.
And then she screamed. And screamed and screamed, echoing in the cold corners.
Mick finished, collapsed against Beth as she gasped for breath. A last pump and he pulled out.
He shifted to her side. She pressed her cheek to his, blood drying between her legs and muscles screaming. Mick eased her against him, trading back his stolen warmth.
“Are you okay?” Mick could almost hear her skin knitting itself together. He wiped the blood from his mouth.
“Yes. I’m fine,” Beth said. “It's fine. We're fine.”
Mick stared at the pale woman sprawled against him, covered in sweat and blood, the web of scars at her wrist, a new one knitting below. He listened to her heart pumping, the whispers of the blood still in her veins.
“Yeah, just fine.”