Territory (2/3)
*****
Territory (2/3)
SyrenSoul_Red
Pairing: Callie/Erica
Rating: Good God, Avert your eyes! (NC-18 - XXX).
Summary: Set after S05E06, in a mess of dirty, dirty leaves.
A/N: I wrote this because it’s where I wanted that “okay” to lead to - because sometimes it’s not yet, but it can be... I don't know if I'll write any more after ep 7, but I hope I'll be given the opportunity. Soundtrack at the end.
Disclaimer: If I owned Grey's Anatomy... I would fire ABC. And it would be Hahn and Callie - and the other characters would be invited only to give us time to fix ourselves between scenes.
08/11/08
A shout-out to lestobiosis , who read my first draft and made me work harder. And to all of you who asked for more.
(Told by the perv staring over Erica's shoulder)
*****
Hesitation beneath a firestorm, Callie covered her breasts with her arm, finger easing a strand of hair from the corner of her mouth. “Erica…”
She reached out, captured Callie’s forearm, felt muscle dance beneath her fingers, and peeled Callie from the wall, leading her toward mirror and tile, reaching over porcelain and glass, twisting chrome and then there was water on her skin, cold, hot, scalding, and she twisted again, steam fogging her eyes. She turned to Callie, reluctant and willing, denim relaxed on her hips, and Erica put her fingers on Callie’s throat, mouths together, her tongue laving away any protest.
She pulled at Callie’s pants and her neck stretched to its limits to hold the kiss, vertebrae popping, and Callie’s hands pushed into her shoulders as each leg lifted in succession, denim and lace tossed into a corner. Erica’s hands slid to her own thighs, gathering maroon silk and she dragged it from her body, her mouth leaving Callie’s only when silk fluttered between them, and then they were flesh on flesh, Callie’s nails digging into her neck, into her back, and they were moving together, bare feet slipping on wet tile.
They stumbled into a jet of water and it fell on Erica’s head, her back, and still she was wetter than her surroundings. She waited for the heat to slough Sloan from Callie’s body, reached for soap and ran slippery hands over Callie’s skin, lathering and scrubbing.
The pounding of liquid mixed with primal sounds pulled from Callie’s mouth as Erica massaged her broad shoulders, the small of her back, fingers digging into her ass and across her thighs, slipping between; heat on heat, wet on wet, pushing and driving into tight, taut muscles. Erica reached up, angled the shower head to Callie’s torso, rivulets between her breasts, spray hitting her stomach and she crushed Callie into porcelain and kissed her with fury, tongue rolling as her fingers probed her body.
Erica pushed her palm against a full breast, cupped and squeezed it, and she swallowed the whimper that fell onto her tongue when pulled her fingers from heat and warmth, trailed them across moving hips and the slit that was wet outside and in, and parted her labia. She flexed her shoulder, her forearm, hand thrusting in, fingers rolling over Callie’s clit, pushing them as a beast entwined into the wall when Callie’s legs gave way.
Erica nudged with her mouth, a square jaw falling sideways for her teeth to bite and scrape fragile skin, her larynx, trying not to drown. Her arm worked hard, her fingers rubbing and rolling, and powerful muscles shuddered beneath her, tendons and sinew rising and falling, a moan spilling from Callie’s mouth. Erica smiled into honeyed skin, knowing her lover was done; knowing she wasn’t.
Erica circled again, her fingers teasing Callie’s clit and she felt a strong hand squeeze her wrist, attempt to push her away. And she laughed, low and raw on Callie’s neck and curled another arm around her wet body; manoeuvring, pulling her until Callie’s hands were flat on the tile, her legs wide, her back bared to Erica’s naked skin.
“Erica…”
Her name was a plea, a promise, and Erica’s lips fell onto Callie’s neck, her tongue on the dip and peak of vertebrae, water clearing dark hair from her mouth. She pushed one hand into Callie’s, their fingers entwined, fists pressed on the tile, and she let her nails follow waterfalls down Callie’s skin.
The curve of her spine, the dimple of her coccyx; Erica’s palm cupped Callie’s hip and her knee bent to widen Callie’s legs. Erica’s hand slipped between them, fingerprints marking Callie’s mound, knuckles sliding into tight wetness; two finding their way, a third pushing in, and she kissed the cleft created by Callie’s scapulae as her torso rose up, her hips pulled away, and a moan slid across the tiles and echoed on her body.
Her fingers were an arrow pointed at the place that made Callie clench, demand that Erica fight for it, sweat beneath the spray of water with every muscle in her body flexing and rocking into mocha skin. Erica groaned against Callie’s spine and dark hair fell onto her shoulder, their lips brushing at the corners, tips of tongues touching.
Erica rocked her hips against her forearm, pushing into Callie, into the water and the fire and the cry that rose in her throat. And when she thought her fingers would be broken by Callie’s hand, when she thought her knuckles would shatter inside Callie’s body, Callie reached out and wound her arm around Erica’s wet hair, crushing their mouths together as she moaned into her teeth, came in Erica’s hands, collapsed against her skin.
***