Dance with the Devil | NC17 | Sons of Anarchy
Title: Dance with the Devil
Prompt: crazy, hate
Challenge: Porn Battle XV
Fandom: Gemma Teller-Morrow/June Stahl, Sons of Anarchy
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 819
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I ship this pairing like nobody’s business, but there is virtually no fic about them…so I decided to write some myself. Comments would be great! Enjoy!
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She hates being called “June.” Despite it being her given name, it connotes a certain warmth and softness that she distinctly lacks. Most people think it’s a joke when she introduces herself. She prefers “Stahl” - distant and blunt, as she likes it. In a pinch, “agent” will do, because she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love a little power play. She tells men to call her by her rank when she fucks them; it’s always best to remind them who’s in charge.
Gemma calls her “bitch”-if she speaks to her at all. Once she called her “cunt,” but that was when Stahl had handcuffed her to the bed, and she knew that Gemma had meant it affectionately.
They hate each other, and Stahl is fine with that. She doesn’t need to like someone to fuck them. For Stahl, her extreme dislike even turns her on, and what’s wrong with that? Sex is sex, and it’s much less messy without sentiment getting in the way.
When Stahl taps on the door of Gemma’s house (she’s always known where to find her), Gemma is already waiting for her. She doesn’t cast cautious eyes past Stahl’s head to confirm that her husband has gone, and Stahl takes pleasure in that. She likes a woman who enjoys a bit of risk with her affair. The woman stands aside and allows her to enter her sacred domain, but they don’t waste time with pleasantries. They don’t have to. There’s only one reason why Stahl is here, and it certainly isn’t to wax poetic about the goddamn weather or to rat on her beloved club. Gemma backs her against the wall, pinning her there with her body while her eyes flash with loathing so intense that Stahl is reminded of the criminals she’s arrested. A jolt of excitement skitters down her spine. She can’t remember the last time she felt so powerful. The Queen of Charming can’t stand her, but she doesn’t turn her away whenever Stahl shows up. Gemma did invite her, after all, and Stahl certainly wouldn’t back down from such a delicious challenge. Gemma gets off on this, and Stahl knows it’s because she’s just that damn good.
She laughs, her lips twisting into a smirk, and Gemma’s mouth curls into a sneer before she kisses her. Their kisses are greedy and sloppy and bruising and Stahl can’t get enough of them. She bites Gemma’s lower lip and sucks, licking away her lipstick and leaving behind a tiny cut that the woman may have a difficult time explaining to her old man. Gemma groans, forcing a hand between their bodies to pull at the button of Stahl’s pants.
Fabric tears when Gemma snakes a hand into Stahl’s slacks, but she doesn’t give a damn, not when she’s been waiting for this for hours. She’s already wet when Gemma slips two unforgiving fingers roughly inside of her. The angle is awkward, but Stahl almost prefers it this way. She threads her fingers into Gemma’s hair, twisting and tugging while Gemma fucks her hard.
Maybe she’s crazy for wanting this - Gemma is dangerous, but so too is Stahl. It’s a dance with the devil, but the agent isn’t sure which one of them is Satan in this scenario. Maybe it’s both of them.
Stahl shimmies her hips, encouraging her slacks to slide down her legs in order to give Gemma a little more room. Gemma’s rings bite punishingly at the tender flesh between her legs, but the sting is familiar now. She’ll be sore later, but the pain will fill her with contemptuous glee when she next faces Morrow or Teller. With a bit of maneuvering, Stahl frees one of her legs and wraps it around Gemma’s denim-clad hip, anchoring her shoulders back against the wall while she rides the woman’s fingers with abandon. She grunts and moans loudly, sinking as deep as she can with each twist and thrust of Gemma’s hand.
“Fuck yes,” Stahl hisses before she tilts her head back and comes with a loud wail. She digs her heel into Gemma’s ass while she rides out her orgasm, clenching and throbbing around the woman’s fingers until she almost collapses against her. She won’t show that sort of weakness. She wouldn’t dare bask in the afterglow of a decent orgasm, nor would she want to. Gemma steps back, pulling her fingers out roughly and letting the agent slump down against the wall.
Her eyes are cold, wary, and when Stahl straightens her spine and readjusts her clothing, Gemma’s eyes narrow.
“Thanks,” Stahl says, running her hand through her hair, “I needed that. I’ve got to run - crimes to solve, and all of that.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Gemma spits. “You crazy fuckin’ bitch.”
Stahl’s mirthful smile is every bit as infuriating as she intends it to be. “If you want me, Gemma, you know where I live.”
-
Prompt: crazy, hate
Challenge: Porn Battle XV
Fandom: Gemma Teller-Morrow/June Stahl, Sons of Anarchy
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 819
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I ship this pairing like nobody’s business, but there is virtually no fic about them…so I decided to write some myself. Comments would be great! Enjoy!
-
She hates being called “June.” Despite it being her given name, it connotes a certain warmth and softness that she distinctly lacks. Most people think it’s a joke when she introduces herself. She prefers “Stahl” - distant and blunt, as she likes it. In a pinch, “agent” will do, because she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love a little power play. She tells men to call her by her rank when she fucks them; it’s always best to remind them who’s in charge.
Gemma calls her “bitch”-if she speaks to her at all. Once she called her “cunt,” but that was when Stahl had handcuffed her to the bed, and she knew that Gemma had meant it affectionately.
They hate each other, and Stahl is fine with that. She doesn’t need to like someone to fuck them. For Stahl, her extreme dislike even turns her on, and what’s wrong with that? Sex is sex, and it’s much less messy without sentiment getting in the way.
When Stahl taps on the door of Gemma’s house (she’s always known where to find her), Gemma is already waiting for her. She doesn’t cast cautious eyes past Stahl’s head to confirm that her husband has gone, and Stahl takes pleasure in that. She likes a woman who enjoys a bit of risk with her affair. The woman stands aside and allows her to enter her sacred domain, but they don’t waste time with pleasantries. They don’t have to. There’s only one reason why Stahl is here, and it certainly isn’t to wax poetic about the goddamn weather or to rat on her beloved club. Gemma backs her against the wall, pinning her there with her body while her eyes flash with loathing so intense that Stahl is reminded of the criminals she’s arrested. A jolt of excitement skitters down her spine. She can’t remember the last time she felt so powerful. The Queen of Charming can’t stand her, but she doesn’t turn her away whenever Stahl shows up. Gemma did invite her, after all, and Stahl certainly wouldn’t back down from such a delicious challenge. Gemma gets off on this, and Stahl knows it’s because she’s just that damn good.
She laughs, her lips twisting into a smirk, and Gemma’s mouth curls into a sneer before she kisses her. Their kisses are greedy and sloppy and bruising and Stahl can’t get enough of them. She bites Gemma’s lower lip and sucks, licking away her lipstick and leaving behind a tiny cut that the woman may have a difficult time explaining to her old man. Gemma groans, forcing a hand between their bodies to pull at the button of Stahl’s pants.
Fabric tears when Gemma snakes a hand into Stahl’s slacks, but she doesn’t give a damn, not when she’s been waiting for this for hours. She’s already wet when Gemma slips two unforgiving fingers roughly inside of her. The angle is awkward, but Stahl almost prefers it this way. She threads her fingers into Gemma’s hair, twisting and tugging while Gemma fucks her hard.
Maybe she’s crazy for wanting this - Gemma is dangerous, but so too is Stahl. It’s a dance with the devil, but the agent isn’t sure which one of them is Satan in this scenario. Maybe it’s both of them.
Stahl shimmies her hips, encouraging her slacks to slide down her legs in order to give Gemma a little more room. Gemma’s rings bite punishingly at the tender flesh between her legs, but the sting is familiar now. She’ll be sore later, but the pain will fill her with contemptuous glee when she next faces Morrow or Teller. With a bit of maneuvering, Stahl frees one of her legs and wraps it around Gemma’s denim-clad hip, anchoring her shoulders back against the wall while she rides the woman’s fingers with abandon. She grunts and moans loudly, sinking as deep as she can with each twist and thrust of Gemma’s hand.
“Fuck yes,” Stahl hisses before she tilts her head back and comes with a loud wail. She digs her heel into Gemma’s ass while she rides out her orgasm, clenching and throbbing around the woman’s fingers until she almost collapses against her. She won’t show that sort of weakness. She wouldn’t dare bask in the afterglow of a decent orgasm, nor would she want to. Gemma steps back, pulling her fingers out roughly and letting the agent slump down against the wall.
Her eyes are cold, wary, and when Stahl straightens her spine and readjusts her clothing, Gemma’s eyes narrow.
“Thanks,” Stahl says, running her hand through her hair, “I needed that. I’ve got to run - crimes to solve, and all of that.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Gemma spits. “You crazy fuckin’ bitch.”
Stahl’s mirthful smile is every bit as infuriating as she intends it to be. “If you want me, Gemma, you know where I live.”
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