Fic: After Hours
Title: After Hours
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Lindsay (nylana)
Rating: R
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 1,281
Pairing: Billie Piper/Jeffrey Dean Morgan
Summary: He loves it when she says his name.
A/N: So I think this means I've officially cracked. I've written RPF for two people who've never even met, on the set of a show that doesn't even exist. BUT DAMN IT'S FUN XD And even though probably only like, two people will read this, I don't care XD
They bump into a light rigging and her giggle echoes through the silent set as he steadies the light, shushing her with a grin.
"Don't shush me, there's nobody here," she says, the corner of her mouth rising as she steps onto the set.
His eyes are on her ass and he smirks as he follows her. They pass the couch and he remembers well the fantasy sequence they filmed a few days ago.
There's a running joke around the set that everybody gets to make out with her. While this isn't exactly true, as Gary is always quick to point out, he's more than a little pleased that he's one of the lucky ones. He thinks about the way she felt in his lap, the way her hips felt under his hands, and the way she pressed her body to his as she kissed him. He feels a low tingle in his belly as he thinks about the way she moved against him and remembers how, for just a moment, he'd wished they hadn't been acting.
They move into the kitchen and she grins as she reaches for the whiskey bottle on the counter.
"Is this real?" she asks, swirling the liquid around.
He laughs quietly and shakes his head. "No, it's just tea, watered down a little. Summer doesn't like it much."
"Don't blame her." She wrinkles her nose as she sets the bottle back on the counter and brushes against him as she slips past him out of the kitchen. He takes a breath before he follows her into the bedroom.
"Whitman's apartment is a bit depressing," she says as she stares around the room.
He loves listening to her talk when she's not working on a scene. Her voice seems softer, almost lyrical, when she's speaking in her natural accent, and he thinks he could listen to her talk all day. He loves it when she says his name.
"I'm sure April's is a lot nicer," he says, realizing he hasn't seen that particular set.
She nods, grinning cheekily at him as she runs her fingers along the foot of the bed.
"We should probably go," he says and starts to walk past her.
Her hand shoots out and she grabs his arm, pulling him to her.
He looks down at her as her hands move to grip the lapels of his jacket and she stands on her toes, pressing against him as she touches her lips to his. She pulls back slightly, her breath warm on his mouth as she looks at him.
There's a moment where he thinks they shouldn't do this and then his hands drop to her hips, holding her to him as he kisses her again. His tongue slips into her mouth and he can taste the beer from earlier that led to their exploring of the set after hours.
Her hands slide across his chest, traveling up to push his jacket from his shoulders. He lets it drop to the floor and holds her against him, realizing how small she feels in his arms.
His hands move down her back, finding the edge of her thin t-shirt and pulling it off over her head, caressing the soft skin of her torso as their lips crash together again. Her fingers are quick on the buttons of his shirt and it lands on top of his jacket as he shrugs it off.
She kisses his neck, flicking her tongue over his Adam's apple as her fingers comb through the hair on his chest. Her lips move lower, as do her hands, his belt buckle rattling as she pulls it apart. The belt makes a leathery whipping sound as she pulls it from around his waist and he grins at her hurry.
His hands rise to her arms and he pushes her back onto the bed, watching the way her breasts bounce inside her bra as she lands on the mattress.
"Jesus, Jeff," she murmurs, laughing softly.
He grins down at her, his hands on the fastenings of his pants, and watches as her fingers move to the front of her jeans. She pops the button and tugs the zipper down, her hips rising as she works them down.
He steps out of his pants and leans down, grasping the bottoms of her jeans and yanking them from her legs to toss them on the floor. He kneels on the bed, the mattress groaning as she shifts back and he moves forward. Her skin is smooth under his hands as his fingers drift up the length of her leg, moving around to stroke the inside of her thigh before he slips his fingers into her panties. It's almost absurd how wet she is for him, and he relishes her soft gasp when two fingers slide easily inside of her, her arousal coating his palm.
His lips find hers again as his fingers work, moving up to lightly tease her clit before he withdraws his hand, his fingers trailing her wetness along the inside of her thigh.
"Jeff, please" she whispers breathlessly against his mouth, her hips rising against him.
He sits up and hooks his fingers over the sides of her panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the floor along with his boxers.
He climbs slowly over her body, taking his time and watching the way her chest rises and falls with the breath of her arousal. She kisses him hungrily when he reaches her mouth, and her legs rise on either side of him as he pushes into her.
She moans, her head falling back and her hands tight on his arms. His lips press against her exposed neck as he lowers himself down, feeling the way their bodies slide against each other as they move.
Her breath is warm on his skin and her teeth nip at his shoulder, her fingers digging into his back.
The lace of her bra is simultaneously rough and smooth against his chest and he fumbles a hand up to push one cup down, brushing over her nipple before he takes it between his fingers, pinching it hard and making her gasp.
Her legs tighten around him, her hands moving lower and pressing against him as though she's trying to push him deeper into her. He braces his hands on the mattress and gives her what she wants, thrusting deeper and watching her head fall back again.
Her fingers press against his ribs and a small frown creases her brow as her mouth falls open, his name tumbling from her lips over and over between whispered expletives and breathless gasps. She clenches around him, arching against him, and he'll never forget the way she says his name as she comes.
He pushes into her as she shudders around him, thrusting hard until he reaches his own end. He lowers himself on top of her, resting his forehead on her chest a moment. He feels her giggle before he hears it and he looks up at her.
She grins down at him as she brushes her sweaty hair from her forehead.
"Thanks, Whit," she says, her tongue poking between her teeth as her grin widens.
Their laughter echoes around the quiet set, his low and rough, hers light and breathy, and he captures her lips once more in a fiery kiss.
They have to reshoot the fantasy sequence a couple of days later, and he wonders if anybody notices how much easier it is for them, the familiar way his hands grip her hips and the way she moves against him as she kisses him.
He wonders if they know, and then decides he doesn't care.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Lindsay (nylana)
Rating: R
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 1,281
Pairing: Billie Piper/Jeffrey Dean Morgan
Summary: He loves it when she says his name.
A/N: So I think this means I've officially cracked. I've written RPF for two people who've never even met, on the set of a show that doesn't even exist. BUT DAMN IT'S FUN XD And even though probably only like, two people will read this, I don't care XD
They bump into a light rigging and her giggle echoes through the silent set as he steadies the light, shushing her with a grin.
"Don't shush me, there's nobody here," she says, the corner of her mouth rising as she steps onto the set.
His eyes are on her ass and he smirks as he follows her. They pass the couch and he remembers well the fantasy sequence they filmed a few days ago.
There's a running joke around the set that everybody gets to make out with her. While this isn't exactly true, as Gary is always quick to point out, he's more than a little pleased that he's one of the lucky ones. He thinks about the way she felt in his lap, the way her hips felt under his hands, and the way she pressed her body to his as she kissed him. He feels a low tingle in his belly as he thinks about the way she moved against him and remembers how, for just a moment, he'd wished they hadn't been acting.
They move into the kitchen and she grins as she reaches for the whiskey bottle on the counter.
"Is this real?" she asks, swirling the liquid around.
He laughs quietly and shakes his head. "No, it's just tea, watered down a little. Summer doesn't like it much."
"Don't blame her." She wrinkles her nose as she sets the bottle back on the counter and brushes against him as she slips past him out of the kitchen. He takes a breath before he follows her into the bedroom.
"Whitman's apartment is a bit depressing," she says as she stares around the room.
He loves listening to her talk when she's not working on a scene. Her voice seems softer, almost lyrical, when she's speaking in her natural accent, and he thinks he could listen to her talk all day. He loves it when she says his name.
"I'm sure April's is a lot nicer," he says, realizing he hasn't seen that particular set.
She nods, grinning cheekily at him as she runs her fingers along the foot of the bed.
"We should probably go," he says and starts to walk past her.
Her hand shoots out and she grabs his arm, pulling him to her.
He looks down at her as her hands move to grip the lapels of his jacket and she stands on her toes, pressing against him as she touches her lips to his. She pulls back slightly, her breath warm on his mouth as she looks at him.
There's a moment where he thinks they shouldn't do this and then his hands drop to her hips, holding her to him as he kisses her again. His tongue slips into her mouth and he can taste the beer from earlier that led to their exploring of the set after hours.
Her hands slide across his chest, traveling up to push his jacket from his shoulders. He lets it drop to the floor and holds her against him, realizing how small she feels in his arms.
His hands move down her back, finding the edge of her thin t-shirt and pulling it off over her head, caressing the soft skin of her torso as their lips crash together again. Her fingers are quick on the buttons of his shirt and it lands on top of his jacket as he shrugs it off.
She kisses his neck, flicking her tongue over his Adam's apple as her fingers comb through the hair on his chest. Her lips move lower, as do her hands, his belt buckle rattling as she pulls it apart. The belt makes a leathery whipping sound as she pulls it from around his waist and he grins at her hurry.
His hands rise to her arms and he pushes her back onto the bed, watching the way her breasts bounce inside her bra as she lands on the mattress.
"Jesus, Jeff," she murmurs, laughing softly.
He grins down at her, his hands on the fastenings of his pants, and watches as her fingers move to the front of her jeans. She pops the button and tugs the zipper down, her hips rising as she works them down.
He steps out of his pants and leans down, grasping the bottoms of her jeans and yanking them from her legs to toss them on the floor. He kneels on the bed, the mattress groaning as she shifts back and he moves forward. Her skin is smooth under his hands as his fingers drift up the length of her leg, moving around to stroke the inside of her thigh before he slips his fingers into her panties. It's almost absurd how wet she is for him, and he relishes her soft gasp when two fingers slide easily inside of her, her arousal coating his palm.
His lips find hers again as his fingers work, moving up to lightly tease her clit before he withdraws his hand, his fingers trailing her wetness along the inside of her thigh.
"Jeff, please" she whispers breathlessly against his mouth, her hips rising against him.
He sits up and hooks his fingers over the sides of her panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the floor along with his boxers.
He climbs slowly over her body, taking his time and watching the way her chest rises and falls with the breath of her arousal. She kisses him hungrily when he reaches her mouth, and her legs rise on either side of him as he pushes into her.
She moans, her head falling back and her hands tight on his arms. His lips press against her exposed neck as he lowers himself down, feeling the way their bodies slide against each other as they move.
Her breath is warm on his skin and her teeth nip at his shoulder, her fingers digging into his back.
The lace of her bra is simultaneously rough and smooth against his chest and he fumbles a hand up to push one cup down, brushing over her nipple before he takes it between his fingers, pinching it hard and making her gasp.
Her legs tighten around him, her hands moving lower and pressing against him as though she's trying to push him deeper into her. He braces his hands on the mattress and gives her what she wants, thrusting deeper and watching her head fall back again.
Her fingers press against his ribs and a small frown creases her brow as her mouth falls open, his name tumbling from her lips over and over between whispered expletives and breathless gasps. She clenches around him, arching against him, and he'll never forget the way she says his name as she comes.
He pushes into her as she shudders around him, thrusting hard until he reaches his own end. He lowers himself on top of her, resting his forehead on her chest a moment. He feels her giggle before he hears it and he looks up at her.
She grins down at him as she brushes her sweaty hair from her forehead.
"Thanks, Whit," she says, her tongue poking between her teeth as her grin widens.
Their laughter echoes around the quiet set, his low and rough, hers light and breathy, and he captures her lips once more in a fiery kiss.
They have to reshoot the fantasy sequence a couple of days later, and he wonders if anybody notices how much easier it is for them, the familiar way his hands grip her hips and the way she moves against him as she kisses him.
He wonders if they know, and then decides he doesn't care.