This is M. Real, serious, M, because it's Christmas and I'm bitter and excited and inspired all at once. Be warned.
"Who are you?" he growled into her curls, dragging her lithe body around to face him, distracting her from her previous attempts at clawing the clothes from his body.
"Does it matter?" Her lips were like fire, burning a path down his chest as the music pumped around them.
"And if I say it does?" She didn't answer - she couldn't, her mouth was quickly occupied by his cool tongue darting down her throat – he was so different, and yet so much the same.
Growling again, deeper this time, he pinned her against the wall, trapping her hands above her body as she writhed beneath him, gorgeous and female and pheromones and sex. Their hips ground together as he pushed her up the wall sharply, eliciting a gasp from her and a groan from him, and he could suddenly no longer stand the few layers of clothing that separated their bodies. His leather jacket had been lost long ago, and her dress was hiked up well past her waste, exposing her perfect body to anyone who might happen to go by.
In another second, he had freed himself and had slid roughly into her warm, tight, heat.
"Tell me your name," his voice was demanding, filled with power, and it went straight to her core. She tensed as he rubbed against her clit with rough hands, and shattered with a low moan.
"Yours first," she gasped as he came inside her and they both slid down in a heap against the wall. She let her body rest for a moment, and then extracted herself from his arms in one fluid movement, letting her dress fall as it would. She left with a wink and a word, disappearing into a cloud of smoke, leaving him staring daggers after her.
"Catch you later, sweetie."
Told you. Please leave your comments, and Happy Christmas!
-Reinette
P.S. WHO SAW THE THING WITH CLARA COMING? I totally called it. Yes, I did so!