Twist and Shout
Apr. 4th, 2008 10:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kolTitle: Twist and Shout
Fandom: The Pretender
Rating: Adult (SHOCKING I KNOW)
Challenge Fic: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
31_days, The cadence of her voice
Her voice is raw whiskey, burning as he swallows her words with his possessive lips. But he can’t stretch far enough across that snarl, and the edges of her passion strike his skin; he’ll carry bruises of this meeting for days. For all his genius, its hard to focus when she does that twist with her hips, and he moans against her neck.
It never lasts long enough, and she coldly escapes his arms the minute when she’s done, skirt sliding up those hips she hadn’t let him ravage, gun never leaving his heart. She was leaving him spent on the floor— she always did.
This time, the routine breaks, and she turns at the door, and for a moment, his body surges with hope, because she steps back into the hotel room, the rising sun casting a crimson and orange frame to her tangled hair.
She bends to his level, her lips at his ear, hands catching his, raising them above, and he’s lost again, lost in the blur between him and her, lost in the heat her body casts against his.
It is only here, on the floor of a third rate hotel in Arizona, that the power shifts, that she’s able to best him. The chill of handcuffs replacing her warm hands are his reminder of just how annoying not being in control can be.
She leaves him without another look, but he knows she’ll be back. It isn’t perfect, this dance of theirs, but neither can deny they only feel complete wrapped up in one another.
Already, that brain of his everyone wants, is hard at work planning their next encounter.
Written to this muxtape.
Fandom: The Pretender
Rating: Adult (SHOCKING I KNOW)
Challenge Fic: For
31_days, The cadence of her voiceHer voice is raw whiskey, burning as he swallows her words with his possessive lips. But he can’t stretch far enough across that snarl, and the edges of her passion strike his skin; he’ll carry bruises of this meeting for days. For all his genius, its hard to focus when she does that twist with her hips, and he moans against her neck.
It never lasts long enough, and she coldly escapes his arms the minute when she’s done, skirt sliding up those hips she hadn’t let him ravage, gun never leaving his heart. She was leaving him spent on the floor— she always did.
This time, the routine breaks, and she turns at the door, and for a moment, his body surges with hope, because she steps back into the hotel room, the rising sun casting a crimson and orange frame to her tangled hair.
She bends to his level, her lips at his ear, hands catching his, raising them above, and he’s lost again, lost in the blur between him and her, lost in the heat her body casts against his.
It is only here, on the floor of a third rate hotel in Arizona, that the power shifts, that she’s able to best him. The chill of handcuffs replacing her warm hands are his reminder of just how annoying not being in control can be.
She leaves him without another look, but he knows she’ll be back. It isn’t perfect, this dance of theirs, but neither can deny they only feel complete wrapped up in one another.
Already, that brain of his everyone wants, is hard at work planning their next encounter.
Written to this muxtape.
