AN: Thanks Lisa for convincing me this was worth posting. Set somewhere between Kali III & Firewall.
Disclaimer: I only borrowed them & provided them with some entertainment for a bit.
Show Me You're Alive
By: SentientMist
She knows he'll be able to see the dried tears, the streaks of black from her mascara; she doesn't care. For once, she isn't trying to hide them. She had nearly lost him, had requested he voluntarily give up his life; and he had, without question.
He scarcely has the door open before she stumbles into his arms, clutching fistfuls of his shirt, fresh tears warm against his bare chest. His arms wrap around her of their own accord, holding her tightly against him. "Magnus?" he whispers, and anything else he may have said is lost as she captures his lips, kissing him deeply, her tongue seeking entrance.
She needs to know he's alive. He's here with his arms around her, his body warm against hers; and he's ibreathing/i. She wants to be closer, wants to feel him, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath, the sturdy beat of his heart under her fingers. Anxious, she shoves him backward until the backs of his knees impact the bed, pushing him onto it, stretching on top of him. "Please, Will," she pleads, kissing him again; and this time, her tongue slips into his mouth, sliding against his.
He's underneath her, her sole focus is on the feel of his skin against her, the hard planes of his body just beginning to soften with lack of proper exercise. It's an incredible sensation, and she moans into his mouth, drawing him closer, needing more. She doesn't believe it will ever be close enough. Shifting slightly, she murmurs against his jaw, "I want to know you're alive, Will. I need to feel you against me," leaning up, she whispers into his ear, "inside me."
She registers a hitch in his breathing; taking small, shallow breaths. He's insistently hard against her thigh, burning her skin even through their clothing. Dropping a hand between them, she traces his length, her feather-light touch making him groan. Desperate to be as close to him as possible, she quickly sheds her clothing. Carelessly, she discards the garments behind her and pulls back to look at him.
He gasps and his eyes widen as she's fully revealed to him. She smirks, straddling him as she leans in for another slow kiss.
"Show me," she breathes against his lips, "Prove to me you're alive."
He rolls them, reversing their positions, and she helps him out of his boxers, dropping them to the floor with her own clothes.
She reaches for him; and he groans, burying his head in her shoulder as slender fingers close around his throbbing cock.
"Magnus."
She eagerly guides him to her center, biting her lower lip as he slides into her. She's more than ready for him, her entire body tingles with anticipation once he's fully sheathed within her. His body seems to mold to hers perfectly; the pressure of his weight pushing her into the bed is exquisite.
She gasps at the first, involuntary, jerk of his hips and hears him mutter a curse under his breath. "It's okay," she murmurs, breathless.
He pulls out and slides back into her, fumbling slightly as he finds a rhythm, snaking a hand between them to tease her folds.
She moans into his mouth, fingernails digging into his back, deepening the kiss, at the first pass of his thumb across her clit.
His thumb makes firm, slow circles over her clit as he continues to pound into her and she feels sparks shoot through her. Every nerve ending is on fire. She loses herself in the feel of him; his lips, the gentle pressure of his fingertips on her side, his nimble fingers still torturing her, the delicious friction with each thrust of his hips. She can feel the heat gathering low in her abdomen, the flush creeping up her body. A wave of pleasure washes over her, and she shudders around him, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his back, encouraging him to move faster.
She falls apart easily under his attentions, biting back a cry as she climaxes. A few sharp thrusts and he follows her over the edge, tugging her trembling form against him as he nearly collapses on top of her.
They lay tangled together, panting, trying to steady their breathing, slow their racing hearts. Eventually, she rolls over, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead as she tenderly brushes an errant strand of hair back from his face.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she grabs her discarded clothing and begins putting herself back in order; smoothing her hair, running a finger around her lips to disperse smeared lipstick, straightening her skirt. Once she's presentable, she crosses the room, pausing at the door, offering a quiet, "Thank you, Will." She's gone before he can formulate a response, leaving him staring vacantly at a closed door.