This is how it ends.
They stand pulling up pants and underwear. He bends down, picks up her shirt – her bra somewhere in there – and his. There’s no eye contact, ‘what the fuck did we just do?’ and sex mingling in the air. Their backs are too each other as they slide one arm in and then the other, buttoning up or smoothing down fabric trying to look like they didn’t just fuck.
They turn to face each other, small and tentative smiles on their faces. “Where were we?” she asks. Five minutes later she’s telling him ‘All done’ and moving away. He doesn’t let her get away, places his non-injured hand on her waist, stands up to look her in the eye, well, he looks down at her since he’s got a few inches on her.
She laughs because she can’t help it from bubbling up and out. He laughs with her, watches as she makes the space between them that much smaller. “Maybe.”
This is how they got to the end.
Her lip hurts but it’s bearable, just a little sting every time his touches it, every time his tongue slides over the split, tasting copper. Calloused hands – one just fine and the other bruised – run over her skin – up her back, down her sides, up her stomach until they cup her breasts, which are still covered. She reaches between them to pull her shirt over her head, back again to remove her bra. He removes his and she’s drawn to lick the skin of his chest, letting the salty tang of him slide over her tongue.
His hands comb through her hand once before lifting her head, pulling her up for another kiss before lowering himself, licking a stripe from her chin to her belly. Strong hands fumble twice on the button of her pants before she’s batting his hands away. Once open, she lifts and he pulls everything off at once. He wastes no time pushing her legs open, literally diving right in to taste her.
She arches under his ministrations; bites her lip to keep from crying out. His tongue circles, licks, flicks, presses over her knot of pleasure while his fingers – one, two, maybe three – slide in and out. She’s so wet.
She’s close, so close. She feels the pressure building and building right under his tongue when he stops. She doesn’t quiet herself, lets the hard, rough groan hit the air.
He’s kissing her again, pulling her closer to the table’s edge, tilting her up and then pushing in. He swallows the new sounds she makes as he moves, nothing slow and gentle about it.
It’s doesn’t last long; she didn’t expect it to under the circumstances. His thrusts are hard and fast and it’s all she can do steady herself to take it.
This is where it began.
“Let me have a look at you,” she says to him, having moved from her spot in the entrance way. He hadn’t heard her move. She was either that quiet, which is likely the case, or he was that lost in his own head, which is just as likely.
“I’m fine,” he tells her, well lies to her, through clenched teeth. His hand hurts. It’s not broken though; he knows what that feels like. His back hurts from where he hit the floor.
“Humor me,” she says. He looks at her, annoyed. “Besides, you owe me.” She smiles, her lip splitting open slightly. Yeah, he owes her. Two times over now. He straightens up from where he was bracing himself against the sink. He casts his eyes around to find LJ.
He’s sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, head resting on his crossed arms. Aldo stands nearby hovering. He catches Linc’s eye, nods to tell him to go ahead with Jane, telling him LJ will be fine.
He follows her out of the kitchen, down the main hall into a room that has medical supplies lying on the available flat surfaces.
“You a doctor?” he asks, obeying her silent command to have seat in the closest chair.
“No,” she answers as she gathers whatever it is she thinks she needs. “I just patch up if it’s not too serious. I have to. Too many questions at hospitals.” He doesn’t say anything in response, just thinks about being shot and cayenne pepper.
The room is silent except for the sounds she makes getting stuff and their breathing. Then she’s by his side, holding out her hand. “Take these.”
“No pills.” This isn’t like last time. A couple of bruises, that’s all.
“They won’t knock you out. They’ll just take the edge off.” He doesn’t make a move to take them. “You do realize I can take you?” she smirks. He takes the proffered pills and the cup of water. “Did you hit your head?”
“You sure?” she asks as she nudges his legs together until she can plant one leg on either side of his. Her hands slide over his head, gently checking for lumps. His face is right at her chest, nose close enough to skim over the fabric of her top. He can smell her – sweat and something floral; it’s light, probably unnoticeable unless you happen to be as close as he is. His hands clench against his thighs because he hasn’t been this close to a woman since back in Fox River that day in his cell with Vee and that was non sexual. And this should be, too but for some reason it isn’t.
He wants to pull her down, have her straddle him, and feel the heat of her on him.
“Do you check over everyone like this?”
“Maybe,” she says, moving to step back.
He stops her with one hand on her waist. He doesn’t have to pull. She willingly slides down, landing where he would’ve settled her had he done it.
“What about this part?”
Written for pbhiatus_fic’s 2008 Challenge # 4 – Let’s Get It On: http://community.livejournal.com/pbhiatus_fic/12028.html.