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We Got A Night

Summary:

"You weren't kidding," she says, short of breath already. He just laughs against her throat, his breath tickling her skin.

Notes:

Title and lyrics from Anywhere by 112. I love this song. It's slightly crass but I love it anyway. *sigh* Originally written in 2009.

Work Text:

i love the way your body feels
on top of mine so take your time
we got a night
please don't stop i feel it now
you feel it, too
you're shivering
ooh, you put me close to you
just let it flow
there's no other place to go

 

They don’t leave the couch, in too much of a hurry to get things started.

"You weren't kidding," she says, short of breath already. He just laughs against her throat, his breath tickling her skin.

Up down up down as his hands drag along her flesh until he's steadying her hips because her rhythm falters with every inch gained in search of her climax. He comes first. She would be upset except long fingers slide easy over slick skin and between slicker lips. Her body tightens, everything drawing in on itself until the ball of tension inside unfurls in a flare, burning bright and fast, spreading warmth everywhere.

He kisses her through it, the sweet sour taste of wine on their tongues and the musky scent of sex in her nose. Her breathing takes a while to slow, what with Jared’s practically taking all of her air. She pulls back, pants hard, and watches the red that had creeped up his face, down his neck and over his chest ever so slowly fade.

Fuck breathing, she tells herself as she moves forward to kiss him again.

~~~

He moves in her slow and sweet like he's got all the time in the world. He's leaning over her, one of her legs hitched high on his waist. His hand - grip overcompensating for slippery skin - rests where her ass meets thigh. With every breath in, their chests and stomachs touch. With every breath out, skin pulls apart like the other is plastic on a hot summer day. It's painfully pleasant.

Her hands smooth and gather the pale green fitted sheet in time with his thrusts. She'd given up trying to get a grip on him. The way he's leaning, his mouth is to her ear and hers is to his. "Jared." It's a whisper. "Jared."

"Yeah," vowels drawn out and soft.

"Faster."

"Faster?"

"Uh uh."

"You sure," he asks, slowing down his movements. Teasing.

"Fuck," she huffs out. No one says anything until, "I won't beg you know."

He lifts up, looks her in the eye. "Oh, really." He pushes in further. She squirms at the added pressure.

She concentrates; has to say what she has to say, nodding to give herself time. "Yes, really. I fucked you. You owe me." She clenches her muscles around him to emphasize her point.

He smiles wide and laughs but not before his breath hitches. "Since you put it like that." He pulls her other leg up and then leans over her again, arms braced on either side of her head, a determined look in his eye. She crosses her ankles at the small of his back, ready to accept all that he can give. He kisses her at the same time he thrusts into her, fast and hard.

“Yes, yes, yes,’’ is more air than anything else. Her eyes close and her neck is bared when she comes. He mouths her skin, which tastes of salt and vanilla. He fucks her through it until he’s shuddering above her.

~~~

The morning after is her walking into her kitchen to find him there leaning against the kitchen counter, shirtless and barefoot. He head is lowered like he's studying the ground, one hand wrapped around a coffee mug.

"I thought you left," she states, leaning against the doorframe.

His head snaps up, lazy smile spreading across his face. "I'm not that kind of guy."

"Just so you know I'm not that type of girl," she tells him before taking a seat. She means that in more ways than one.

"I owe you breakfast."

She rolls with the change in conversation. "Where do you want to go?"

"I thought I'd make it for you. Fair play and all that."

"Can you cook?"

"I can make eggs and toast."

"Good enough."

She sits at her table, one foot tucked under her, cradling her mug in her hands. He moves around her kitchen, asking over his shoulder where such and such is, and she tells him.

She likes watching him move. He was fully clothed for most the day yesterday and when he was naked, she was a little too preoccupied to admire his body with anything other than her hands and lips. The ripple of muscle under tinted brown skin, dotted with moles, is a thing of beauty.

Breakfast is bacon, eggs and toast. The conversation easy like it was the day and night before.

And when it’s time to say goodbye, it’s “I got your number” and “You got mine.”