Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, which is a crying shame. But no copyright infringement intended.
Title: Dominant Submission
Rating: NC-17 for sexual situations
Category/Genre: Tess/Oliver Romance
Verse: Smallville, Season 10, One-shot, PWP
Summary: Tess and Oliver have a little tiff at Watchtower and the banter comes back. PWP!
Plot Bunny Theme: This story came from Lilah's tweet!
A/N: This title is NOT about S&M. My beta-person was like, "This is a really weird title lol." So allow me to explain.
Lil C on So You Think You Can Dance, (anyone watch that show?) was talking about giving into your artistic creativity and he said the process of it is a 'dominant submission'. When I thought about Tess and Oliver and how strong both of their personalities are, how forceful they both are, it seemed to work in my mind that giving into each other would be a dominant submission. Think about Committed, when they stopped fighting and gave into their love/addiction/attraction for each other, that was a dominant submission. That was a very long explanation but nevertheless, there you have it. ENJOY.
~o~
"I think you're wrong."
"And I think you're wrong. You know, when you made us partners that kind of entailed listening to what I had to say once in awhile."
"How can I do that when at Luthorcorp you leave the dirty work up to me, but here you still monitor me like I'm a five-year-old," she countered.
"I do not," he retorted, much like a five-year-old himself. "And if you'd stop having a head of rock, you'd see that in this case, what you're proposing is crap."
He watched her frustration boil to the surface, and then he saw the soft intake of breath she took in an attempt to suppress that feeling of aggravation. He had to admit that even after all these years it was still fun to piss her off.
Her loose tendrils curled by her cheeks as she caught his glance and looked away, too irritated to see the slight smile on his face from being the winner so far in this debate. He was having fun at her expense, but so much at her expense that she was missing seeing his enjoyment.
"If you want to tell me again that I'm still not living up to your expectations, fine. There's nothing you can do that I can't handle, but you know something? My capabilities have worth beyond your standards."
In flatly ending the discussion, she broke their locked eye contact, stimulating Oliver in a way he hadn't allowed himself to remember in months. Without conscious thought, he grabbed her arm, not wanting her to end the best entertainment he'd had since the last time they played off each other this way.
He watched her startled eyes at the brief contact and for a moment he saw a flicker of fear. She really had changed from the manipulating woman he'd known last year. But then her eyes began the search into his, trying to figure him out. He looked at her carefully; never having had a simple reaction to her.
He could be so spiteful to her, but it was because he expected more out of her than he had out of anyone else.
He saw her confusion at his action because it contradicted the unnecessary cruelty he'd had towards her not that long ago. She recognized the familiarity in the gesture, but she didn't entirely trust it as she looked at his hand on her arm, wondering if she was going to have to endure a shouting match.
When her eyes met his again, he dove forward slightly and captured her lips, loving that almost immediately they softened beneath his. He kissed her slowly, his body coming towards hers, increasing their height difference and forcing her head upwards in the process. When he licked the crease of her lips, she parted them slightly, eliciting a shudder from him and he tugged on her lips with his teeth, nipping roughly.
His assault surprised her as he continued to shower kisses on her, to demand more of her and she pulled back a little, putting slight space between them. She brought her finger to her upper lip, wiping away his leftover kiss.
Oliver cupped her face with one hand.
"It's too late, you can't deny it now. You already kissed me back."
How did he make it about her when he was the one who initiated it? She tried to look elsewhere and not smack her lips together to rid the taste of him, but his eyes practically burned a hole in her. She looked up at him anyway; seeing his that eyes were no longer angry or those of just a friend.
"I'm not denying anything," she whispered and then immediately regretted saying anything.
This 'being a good person' thing really bites.
His grin of achievement didn't remain concealed as he grabbed onto her once more. He murmured a mere, "Come here," and pulled her to the wall, the circled stain glass window shining brightly behind them.
He knew what she was thinking as her shocked body adjusted to his slow, persistent kisses. He knew she wondered how he could still touch her, want her, taste her as his tongue swept its way along her lips and even he wondered momentarily how the switch in his mind could be flipped so easily. But he also knew that no matter what happened, no matter who her biological father was or what it said on her birth certificate, he would always on some unconscious level consider her to be his.
He kissed her deeply, stroking and sipping her lips as vivid memories of the past penetrated his mind. His fingers curled around the back of her head and he pulled the barrette out of her hair, never buying into her façade of stoic beauty when he knew what she looked like writhing on top of him. The image she now projected was something he easily discarded when he knew he could change her with a fluid, simple motion.
Her hands rose involuntarily as he yanked the barrette, as he changed her outer appearance - her controlled power that had been unraveling all year. His mouth opened hers and his fingers combed her hair, lengthening it, undoing it, and un-taming it.
Her hair spilled out onto his hand as he listened to her drawing in breaths against his lips, but he still didn't let her pull away. Her fingers that had previously been bracing themselves against his chest now inadvertently held onto him. She let his kiss drench her entire body in his passion. A shiver went through her as she felt exhaustion and a reluctant need for more. His hand traveled its way down her body, down her pencil skirt to her thigh.
He lifted her leg up slowly and placed it around his waist.
He placed her gently but effectively against the wall, his body heat spreading over her, invading her as she broke her mouth from his, refusing to look at him.
"Wait," she whispered softly.
"Come on, let me," he whispered back probingly, holding her hips where they were so she wouldn't move away from him. "Let me scratch that itch," he breathed into her ear.
Her body trembled as she felt the familiar sensation of his breaths against her face. She smiled a little at his comment, placing her fingers on his chin and tightening her leg around his hip.
"Is that what you want?" she asked him, turning her face to his. She met his eyes, piercing him with her look, adjusting herself against him. "You want to sleep with me, but more than that, right? You want to do enough to me, enough to make sure that for the rest of my life at least a part of me will permanently belong to you…to make sure it's you that I'm always aching for in the middle of the night, or maybe even here, during the day, right?"
He threw her hands up over her head, completely aching and overwhelmed at how much she could always make him want her.
"To start with," he answered her breathlessly, locking her now equally ambitious eyes with his.
Her chest rose and fell as she longed for him to kiss her again, as her eyes stared at his mouth. He could always take away her pride and see through all of her bullshit. She may have been drawn to powerful men in the hopes of being rescued, but Oliver had always been different. There was no pretending with him. He both undid her and made her stronger every time she was with him.
"Really?" she asked, her eyes moving back up to his.
He let one of her hands go and stroked his down her face, cupping it, letting her know that for as long as possible, his touch would be all she thought about. His hand lingered on her face and she turned her mouth to catch his finger, savoring the taste of his skin, feeling him hard between her legs.
Her free hand went to his shirt, rapidly undoing the buttons as his lips feasted on hers. Her fingers spread over his stomach muscles and as her lips made their way along his jaw, tiny flickers of doubt entered into her mind. Oliver could tell immediately and he pulled her mouth from his face, holding her against his.
"If you're afraid of something, don't be," he said firmly. "I'm not going to let you walk out on me this time."
He was burning for her too much to bother waiting for a verbal response, so he kissed her and pulled her against him, covering her mouth with his in an attempt to suppress any reservations she had. Almost instantly her surprised sighs were accompanied by returned passion in the deliberate kisses.
"The only word I want to hear you say…" he murmured, tracing her lips and jaw with kisses as he finished undoing the buttons of her top. "…is yes."
She knew that her lipstick was smeared, that her stomach muscles fluttered beneath his hand, but she ached for him beyond any superficial level as her own hands dove for him, undoing his pants and pushing his shirt completely off his body.
"Please," she pleaded weakly, her mouth lingering against his chin.
He turned his face and kissed her. "Please what?" he asked her.
He made her shiver again, flooding her body with a warm wave of completion. She smiled a little when she kissed him back, the ripples inside her unfolding in a not so delicate way.
"You know what," she replied smoothly.
He placed his hands on her thighs, slipping them beneath the material of her skirt.
"Put your hands on my shoulders," he commanded softly against her mouth.
The memories echoed in her mind as his firm hands went up her thighs, pushing up the stretchy black material of her skirt with his fingers. Memories played through his mind of how many times he'd hiked her skirt up when he couldn't be bothered to unzip it and slide it off her in the office, and how it had always made her feel completely at his mercy. She held onto him for balance as his eyes watched hers to see the almost innocent reaction that never seemed to fade no matter how many times he did it to her.
She took in a sharp breath when his fingers momentarily played with the elastic band of her underwear. He held her eyes with his.
"What are you thinking?" she asked him, her voice not above a whisper.
"Everything you want me to be."
Swiftly he slid his fingers inside her black underwear and touched her delicate folds, waiting a few seconds before doing anything else. She clung to him gently and leaned her head against his shoulder, resting it there, relying on him, and waiting for him to make her cry out.
She let him hold her while he elicited a rush of sensations from her body. She let him be her hero as her fingertips pressed into his back, her lips and teeth gently gnawing into his shoulder, making him remember who he was when he was with her. He remembered how much she needed him and how good that felt.
As her cries were continuing on an upward curve, she latched onto his shoulder, whispering into his ear, "There's not really a need for that much foreplay, Oliver."
His stomach dropped when she said that and he braced her up against the wall, his blood speeding at an almost unbearable velocity.
"There isn't?" he teased, circling her clit with her own wetness.
She jerked a little, inhaling deeply. She tried to arch back as he urged the initial sparks of her first orgasm on her, causing her to twist so that she could halt him. Her trimmed nails raked his face lightly while his own fingers still electrified her body as her eyes opened, almost steaming with the intensity of their color.
"What do you want me to say? Yes? You know all the things I could say to you."
He paused for a moment, leaning in and resting his mouth just over hers, thinking of all the time he could spend teasing the words out of her that he'd fantasized about in the most compartmentalized places in his mind.
He slid his fingers away from her and cupped her bra-covered breast, nipping her upper lip and moving himself directly between her legs.
"No one has ever made me as crazy as you do," he told her, unable to stand it any longer.
She actually believed that as he removed the remaining barriers between them and pushed into her, moving her back against the wall, flooding her ears with projected cries that no one would ever be able to hear but the two of them.
He pushed hard, knocking against her nerve endings and igniting a friction that he only created with her. He craved her more the deeper he drove inside her, needing to feel the strength that she gave him.
"Mercy," he cried into her mouth as he paused his frantic movements, peeling the bra cup down and flicking her nipple lightly as he kissed her lips.
She loved it when he called her that. It had been briefly annoying to have him still refer to her as that when she first came to Smallville. It belonged to them and even though she knew he did it at first out of habit, and even though it was his name for her, it had been too personal. But she'd still wanted it and he knew that.
She opened her mouth and rested her lips on his, feeling them tremble.
"Tell me you love me," he said.
She didn't say anything but he knew she heard him. He parted her legs and pushed in further, the flood of sensation overwhelming them both, but he didn't forget his request as he licked the bottom of her tongue.
"Tell me."
She looked up at him, her arms around his neck, and she tried to figure out if he was serious.
"You want me to say it?" she asked.
"I need you to. I need you to mean it; tell me you mean it."
She spread her fingers over his chest possessively, wanting to feel him beneath her fingers as he did when he touched her – the touch allowing her the belief that he was hers.
She turned her face away from his as his open mouth soothed her hot skin while she formed thoughts that he would've loved to have invaded her mind to see.
"'Course I love you, Oliver. I love you."
"Keep saying it," he whispered, his mouth on her neck, his hands peeling her shirt off her surrendered arms.
She arched her head back to give him better access to her throat as he quickly discarded her shirt to the floor and she told him what he wanted to hear. She told him how much she needed him. He clawed at her hair, his mouth making its way down her chest while his fingers pulled at the clasp behind her back, freeing her bra just in time for his lips to make contact with her nipple.
He circled it briefly, hearing her declarations become cries for a moment. Her fingers went to the back of his head until he lifted his face to see hers again, both of them out of breath.
"Does it feel good?" she asked him. "To know? To know that I do? That I would still do anything for you?"
He smiled a little, appreciating the battle inside her to please him despite the uncomfortable feeling of him having the upper hand.
"You know what it makes me realize?" he asked her, kissing her once deliberately and then he thrust his hips against her simultaneously. "When it's you saying it…I know that I got it right the first time…when I was with you."
He laced her fingers with his and raised them to just above her head.
"What are you doing?" she asked softly.
He tightened his hands and breathed in the scent of her hair.
"I'm going to make you come right here, over and over, until you forget your own name," and he bit at her earlobe, driving into her, pounding mercilessly in a desperate attempt to connect with her.
Her head fell back instantly; her mouth dropped open and audible cries escaped. He drove into her, licking her lower lip as his ears were filled by her calling out his name. He bit gently at her lips and her chin, pushing into her to increase the friction and to make her scream louder, using all of his energy to feel her milking him as he spurred her on.
"Come here," he whispered, tilting her face back to his when she began writhing unintentionally away from him. He pulled on her chin to open her mouth wider as he felt her orgasm cresting.
She gasped as his tongue swept over her lips, dipping into her mouth as she moaned slightly, her body rippling and her eyes seeing sparks. "Oliver-" she murmured helplessly as his tongue tangled with hers. Her climax hit them both hard, the convulsions triggering his climax as she bit down on his mouth with a loud whimper, her dampness drenching him.
She lay against him, her legs wrapped around his waist and her head on his shoulder, resting and exhaling quivering breaths. He used her position against the wall to help him remain standing as he recovered. He had her in his arms and though she always let him hold her afterwards, this time, he wasn't letting her go no matter what.
That recognition surprised him because it wasn't that difficult of a realization to come to, when not that long ago business was what they were discussing in a mostly platonic way…or as platonic as they could be.
He stroked her hair as her breathing began to even out.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, wondering if he'd been too rough.
"No," she answered softly. "I'm familiar with how you are," she added, turning to look up at him with bright eyes.
He threw her up a little higher, adjusting her in his arms so he could drop them both to the floor. He laid her down gently while her flushed, glowing face looking at him breathlessly, consuming everything that he was.
He kissed her briefly, his mouth making his way down her throat, her chest, to the tops of her breasts, down her ribcage and settling on her stomach. Lingering there, his tongue glided over the skin that began to flutter beneath his touch. He made arches across her abdomen and felt the frustration building up in her. Her skin was heating up, her breaths quickening, her nipples aching for his touch.
She tilted her head down so that she could see him focused on her stomach, his tongue stroking her glistening skin at a leisurely pace. When his hands moved from her ribcage to her breasts, she sat up, moving him into her arms and catching his mouth. Adjusting, he pulled her close, bending her legs around his waist and guiding her onto his lap.
He cupped the back of her head as he kissed her, she curled her hand around to the back of his neck and let the circling thoughts in her head dissipate for now, releasing the tension in her body.
"Mercy," he asked her and she let him pull his mouth back slightly, leaving their foreheads touching.
"Yeah?" she replied softly.
"Could you still, after everything I've done, after all we've been through…could you try with me again?"
He was being diplomatic, how sweet. After all he'd done?
She sighed with relief, not even feeling the need to mentally go through their history in her mind. There was no need for analysis. He was always with her, so when he questioned her, she always knew where they stood in her mind. It didn't take much thought.
"When I first came here, two years ago, I would've said no. It would've been so easy to refuse back then when I blamed you. But since then I've made my own share of mistakes and now…things have happened to me that-"
Her phone went off and she pulled back from him, eager to answer it.
"I've been waiting for that call," she said, starting to get up.
"Whoa-" he said, grabbing her hand that was reaching and keeping her where she was. "You're not answering that phone - maybe never again," he mused, making her laugh.
"No, it'll just take a minute," she explained, the incessant ringing making her impatient.
"A minute?" he repeated, his lips going to her jaw, slightly irritated that she'd allowed the subject to be changed.
He rained manipulative kisses along her jawline, teasing her with his mouth as his fingers dove for her, making her wet again instantly. The ringing was over. Her muscles ached for him, and he had been driving her crazy in every possible way since the moment she'd first laid eyes on him.
"You were seriously going to take that phone call in the middle of this?" he whispered, rocking his hips and pushing his fingers against her.
She leaned into him, letting him lick her neck as she straddled his hips more efficiently. "It's still a work day. Besides…you like it more when you can make me scream than when you can have a normal conversation with me."
"We're gonna have that conversation-" he told her as he slipped his fingers inside her, watching her eyes close and her hands tighten over his shoulders. "But I do want you to scream," he said, leaning up to capture her lips.
He moved gently at first, supporting her until she rocked against him. She threw her arms around him, clutching his body, eventually matching him until he knew that she was close.
"Go ahead and scream," he whispered against her clinging body, his fingers probing ruthlessly.
He moved his left hand from her flawless back to her breasts, stroking her as she clamped down on his right hand, squeezing her legs around his waist as she shattered into pieces, crying out for him.
He gathered her shivering body against him, cupping her face into his neck and holding her. He loved having her entwined in his lap, feeling her in the aftermath of sex. He could always feel how much she loved him and he never believed anyone could really feel that way about him until he held her closely. Even though sometimes he knew it would've been easier on her not to love him, as he did her, there was nothing more real between the two of them than their raw need for each other.
He'd suppressed it and as much as he'd filled it up with other goals, missions, and women, he truly hadn't felt as fulfilled as when he was challenged and adored by her.
"I want that second chance," he told her. "Maybe it's a third or fourth by now, but I want it."
She didn't answer, but not because she was turning him down, but because she didn't know what to say. How could he want her after Chloe and Lex? After all the discoveries that had been made? She was amazed Clark was speaking to her, but Lionel had killed Oliver's parents. But she loved Oliver. She still loved him. He was the one she would always love. And she loved it when he needed her.
She took a deep breath to revive herself and looked at him. "We're…undeniable. Even when you denied it. Even when I did."
"Then don't. I want you. I still want you. And I could love you and let you go. Wanting is more because wanting is choosing. Choosing to have you. I choose you."
"I choose you too."
~o~
The End!
Written: January 2011