Fic-Turning Tables
McCoy waits for Christine in front of the fire of their rented cabin, a pair of cotton track pants slung low on his hips as he recovers from their activities of earlier in the afternoon. He’s got two fingers of Bourbon in the glass in his hand, but all he can stare at is the tungsten carbide band on his left ring finger. It’s not the first one he’s worn, but he sure as hell prays it’s the last. Christine is all he’s ever wanted, passionate, motivated, and fierce. She’s sweetness wrapped in a steel fist, and one of the sharpest minds he’s ever known. And now she is his wife. He can’t stop smiling at the thought.
He lets out a contented sigh as he hears footsteps padding down the hall and grins when he sees her standing in front of him in blue lace panties and bra. He lets out a low wolf whistle as he sets his glass down and she laughs.
“You look fantastic, darlin’.” He stares at her, her ample curves hugged by sapphire blue lace, an intoxicating contrast to her pale skin. He feels his desire raise as he stares at her, he relaxes back into the oversized cream chair, the kind his grandfather used to have in his den. He lets one hand drift to her stomach, rubbing gently, his fingers fanning out to rub the edge of the lace at her hips. The way her stomach clenches at the touch excites him, and he finds that he has to readjust his position in the chair to allow his hardening cock more room.
She hums in contentment, and climbs into his lap. She lets her hands trail from his stomach to his chest, rubbing through his chest hair in a way she has always found comforting. He’s all she’s ever wanted and she still can’t quite believe that he is hers. She thumbs his nipples, smiling devilishly at his low groan, and she can feel his desire for her grow. Christine lets her hands continue to explore and map his chest as she whispers in his ear, “relax Len, let me take care of you this time.”
He lightly raises his hips to brush his clothed erection against her body, as he smirks, “thought I had tired you out.” But just as quickly he brings a hand to slide against her cheek as he speaks, “it’s not quid pro quo Chris. I like making you fall apart, making you come so hard you pass out and need a nap afterwards.”
She smiles at him and then kisses his hand before pulling it from her face. “I know. I like that too, but Len, I want to see you come apart, so much so that you can’t even remember your own name, ‘till all you can do is growl at me because you’ve lost your words.” She places his hand on her hip and bucks up into him as she whispers hot in his ear, “so shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride.”
He growls as he pulls her in tighter to his hips, showing his acquiescence. She pulls away from him, and is sliding out of his lap and down to the floor before he’s really made contact. She kneels in front of the chair and he growls again as he sees those molten eyes of hers looking up at him, waiting for him to get his pants down to his ankles. He doesn’t hesitate, he’s never denied her anything before and he sure as hell isn’t about to start now.
She smiles as she sees him naked and spread out in front of her, his dark hair an appealing contrast to the cream of the chair back, his eyes hooded with his obvious desire at seeing her on her knees. She grins roguishly, and places a quick kiss on the tip of his now exposed cock. She then licks at the head teasingly, causing him to groan. His hands thread into her hair, as he speaks, his voice rough with need, “no teasing, woman, or I’ll have to punish you later.”
She can’t help the giggle that bubbles from within her, but she heeds his request and begins to bob her head in earnest, paying extra attention to the vein on the underside of his dick.
McCoy growls at the wet heat that envelops him, making his eyes role back. He’s not sure if it’s her knowledge of anatomy, or if she is just good, but he’s never known a woman that can suck cock like she can, and as usual he is way too close, way too soon.
Christine can tell, by the way his grunts and groans are turning breathier and louder, that he’s close. So she shoves her panties down as she bobs one final time, before releasing him from her mouth with an obscene pop that makes him thrust towards the air out of sheer need.
He growls, “Get up here woman.”
And she laughs as she complies, hesitating just a moment to get in position before she sinks onto him, with a deep sigh of her own.
He all but takes over as soon as he is sheathed in her, using his hands to guide her up and down, driving into her wet heat with urgency, as his rough accented voice speaks in her hears, “fuck Chris, you’re still so tight. My fucking perfect wife.”
She tightens her walls around him in agreement; she still loves hearing him call her that- can’t get enough of it. She nibbles at his exposed collar bone. “Come for me then, damn it.”
And with a few more strokes he does, and she follows him over the edge. They stay wrapped in each other, sweaty and sated, and she kisses his chest where her head is rested mumbling, “who needs a nap now, Mr. Smug?”
He chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of her head, drawing a blanket around her body to keep them both warm, and settles in for a nap thoroughly exhausted by his crazy, passionate, sexy-as-hell Christine.