Lost - Sawyer/Kate - "Letting Go", part 2
Fandom: Lost
Title: Letting Go-part 2
Characters: Sawyer/Kate
Rating: NC-17
psych_30 prompt: #22 Libido
Warning: Smut, pure and simple.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, they are just visiting.
A/N: Dedicated, along with my heart and soul, to my dearest friend Hereswith, who walked through fire with me during the writing, and rewriting, and rewriting of this. I owe you big time, girl, and...um...sorry I made you read that phrase over so many times! &hearts My sincere thanks also go out to geek_mama_2 who sailed from the Caribbean to the south Pacific just to read this over for me. Are you still fanning, dear?
Part 1
Letting Go - part 2
There would be nothing sweet and easy about this coupling - it would be hard and fierce, driven by a desperate need to lay claim to one another before their last day together dawned. They weren’t teenagers in the back seat of her dad’s Caddy, finishing practically before they had begun; they both knew how to bite and claw and pound their way to the very peak, there to balance for a heartbeat before licking and stroking and gasping back down, eyes wild and locked unblinking, until some small tick would send them hell-bent-for-leather to the brink again.
No time now for the slow dance of seduction, for the tease of a touch and whispered words without meaning. Now it was racing hands and ripping cloth, open-mouthed kisses and banging teeth, arms tangled in wrong-turned sleeves and denim that hung up on bare feet. There were curses and moans and grunts of frustration.
There were no lingering sighs, no loving gazes, no terms of endearment. There were, in fact, no words at all.
Just sound.
And taste.
The salty taste of sweat and the sea. The sweetness of fruit and of the tender flesh at the back of the knee. The acrid tang of copper. Blood, mixed with saliva where lips and teeth had collided, or drawn through layers of skin at neck and breast and inner thigh, leaving bruises as testimony of their conquests. Mouths trailed along shoulder and back, following lines torn by jagged nails, sampling and then soothing with long, wet swipes of tongue.
If the preliminaries were frantic, the main event was a marathon. A strangled oath and a sharp hiss escaped one and then the other as he slammed into her the first time, and she moved against him to make sure she had taken all of him there was to be had. For this one second they stilled, then he rose up on stiff arms, hands buried in the fall of her hair, so they could both watch as they fucked themselves blind.
A warning flash of heat raced from the soles of her feet toward her center, and she put her palm to his chest, a slight shake of her head telling him she did not want it to end just yet. He swore, but slowed his movements, frenzy giving way to tentative kisses wound round the memory of that other kiss. Throaty murmurs of pleasure vibrated with unrevealed emotion, threatening to spill out into the night, but both knew the moment for what it really was - the calm before the storm.
He knew the tide had turned when he felt her legs tighten ‘round his ribs, crossed ankles sliding down from the small of his back to just below his hips, as with one tremendous twist, she rolled him beneath her.
The corners of his mouth quirked then, and a faint ahhhh slipped from his bruised lips.
She took control of the pace, riding him like she was Queen of the Rodeo, sitting astride him straight and tall, one hand gripping his wrist as he covered her breast, the other between her legs, moving without thought, in a ritual that she had preformed solo for years.
Watching her above him, feeling her surround him, listening to the small noises that she made unawares, was too much. Now he called time out, pulling her fingers away from herself, then dodging the angry punch that she threw at his head in frustration.
He flipped her onto her back, and just as quickly she turned again, rising to her hands and knees beneath him. A whimper escaped from somewhere deep inside him as he grabbed her hips and she shifted to take him in again, dropping to her elbows to enhance the angle. There would be no stopping this time, no further delay of le petit mort, which waited in the shadows to claim them both.
When he felt the first faint shivers of her orgasm, he wrapped his arms clear around her and, never missing a single, frantic stroke, heaved them both upright and to their knees. Her hands shot up to grasp at his neck, fingers linking beneath the fringe of his hair, holding herself against him as she fought to remember how to breathe.
She turned her head toward him, and the heat of her ragged sobs filled his ear. He lowered his mouth to the sweat-slicked skin of her shoulder and bit down, smothering his own tortured cries. His left hand snaked down the smooth plains of her stomach, pausing just below her navel, and he was suddenly aware that he could feel himself inside her through the thin barrier of her flesh.
Moving further down, his fingers instinctively sought that place between her legs that she had so recently abandoned. A mere brush of his fingertips was all that he managed before the explosions within her blew every single star from the sky, sending embers raining down to sear him, white hot, from the inside out.
TBC
Title: Letting Go-part 2
Characters: Sawyer/Kate
Rating: NC-17
psych_30 prompt: #22 Libido
Warning: Smut, pure and simple.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, they are just visiting.
A/N: Dedicated, along with my heart and soul, to my dearest friend Hereswith, who walked through fire with me during the writing, and rewriting, and rewriting of this. I owe you big time, girl, and...um...sorry I made you read that phrase over so many times! &hearts My sincere thanks also go out to geek_mama_2 who sailed from the Caribbean to the south Pacific just to read this over for me. Are you still fanning, dear?
Part 1
Letting Go - part 2
There would be nothing sweet and easy about this coupling - it would be hard and fierce, driven by a desperate need to lay claim to one another before their last day together dawned. They weren’t teenagers in the back seat of her dad’s Caddy, finishing practically before they had begun; they both knew how to bite and claw and pound their way to the very peak, there to balance for a heartbeat before licking and stroking and gasping back down, eyes wild and locked unblinking, until some small tick would send them hell-bent-for-leather to the brink again.
No time now for the slow dance of seduction, for the tease of a touch and whispered words without meaning. Now it was racing hands and ripping cloth, open-mouthed kisses and banging teeth, arms tangled in wrong-turned sleeves and denim that hung up on bare feet. There were curses and moans and grunts of frustration.
There were no lingering sighs, no loving gazes, no terms of endearment. There were, in fact, no words at all.
Just sound.
And taste.
The salty taste of sweat and the sea. The sweetness of fruit and of the tender flesh at the back of the knee. The acrid tang of copper. Blood, mixed with saliva where lips and teeth had collided, or drawn through layers of skin at neck and breast and inner thigh, leaving bruises as testimony of their conquests. Mouths trailed along shoulder and back, following lines torn by jagged nails, sampling and then soothing with long, wet swipes of tongue.
If the preliminaries were frantic, the main event was a marathon. A strangled oath and a sharp hiss escaped one and then the other as he slammed into her the first time, and she moved against him to make sure she had taken all of him there was to be had. For this one second they stilled, then he rose up on stiff arms, hands buried in the fall of her hair, so they could both watch as they fucked themselves blind.
A warning flash of heat raced from the soles of her feet toward her center, and she put her palm to his chest, a slight shake of her head telling him she did not want it to end just yet. He swore, but slowed his movements, frenzy giving way to tentative kisses wound round the memory of that other kiss. Throaty murmurs of pleasure vibrated with unrevealed emotion, threatening to spill out into the night, but both knew the moment for what it really was - the calm before the storm.
He knew the tide had turned when he felt her legs tighten ‘round his ribs, crossed ankles sliding down from the small of his back to just below his hips, as with one tremendous twist, she rolled him beneath her.
The corners of his mouth quirked then, and a faint ahhhh slipped from his bruised lips.
She took control of the pace, riding him like she was Queen of the Rodeo, sitting astride him straight and tall, one hand gripping his wrist as he covered her breast, the other between her legs, moving without thought, in a ritual that she had preformed solo for years.
Watching her above him, feeling her surround him, listening to the small noises that she made unawares, was too much. Now he called time out, pulling her fingers away from herself, then dodging the angry punch that she threw at his head in frustration.
He flipped her onto her back, and just as quickly she turned again, rising to her hands and knees beneath him. A whimper escaped from somewhere deep inside him as he grabbed her hips and she shifted to take him in again, dropping to her elbows to enhance the angle. There would be no stopping this time, no further delay of le petit mort, which waited in the shadows to claim them both.
When he felt the first faint shivers of her orgasm, he wrapped his arms clear around her and, never missing a single, frantic stroke, heaved them both upright and to their knees. Her hands shot up to grasp at his neck, fingers linking beneath the fringe of his hair, holding herself against him as she fought to remember how to breathe.
She turned her head toward him, and the heat of her ragged sobs filled his ear. He lowered his mouth to the sweat-slicked skin of her shoulder and bit down, smothering his own tortured cries. His left hand snaked down the smooth plains of her stomach, pausing just below her navel, and he was suddenly aware that he could feel himself inside her through the thin barrier of her flesh.
Moving further down, his fingers instinctively sought that place between her legs that she had so recently abandoned. A mere brush of his fingertips was all that he managed before the explosions within her blew every single star from the sky, sending embers raining down to sear him, white hot, from the inside out.
TBC