Title: Wicked Ways
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Etc.
Rating: PG-13
Their clothes are on then off. Thrown on the floor in a careless heap that they stumble over as he pins her to the wall and fists his hands into her long, damp hair.
She's a siren. He's a snake. They're perfect for each other. They're doomed.
They taste each other only masked in darkness. Only are they free under the veil of night or hidden in the back of a closet or down in the wine cellar or even once in the pantry, where her back kept hitting a jar of peaches until he trust inside her so hard, she knocked it off the shelf and the glass shattered at their feet.
It is so wrong and yet if feels so right.
"Shh..." He begs her to be quiet, knowing if she starts moaning that he will follow. He can't follow. They must be quiet. They can't make noise or someone might hear.
"Faster..." she whimpers. "Oh God, harder...ah," she keens.
"Shh..." he tells her again as her fingers score his back and his name almost tumbles from her lips. He stops her from speaking with a fierce kiss. His lips and tongue and teeth plea with her to just be quiet, just for a little while longer.
"Oh, ooh..." Her skin is so hot and sweaty that it sticks to the wall and when she collapses against him, her back burns. It is always sticky and sweaty. Messy and hot. Frantic and fast.
They can't get enough. Never enough.
There is nothing but gasping breaths and moans and sounds of oblivious pleasure. But they are aware. So very aware that at any moment they could be found and it would be over.
Even though they both know that now it doesn't have to be a secret. That there is no real blood between them, they still can't tell anyone. They're still so afraid of the hushed tones and disapproving eyes that lurk in the shadows of Port Charles.
Before it was risky. And maybe now that the danger is gone it is less appealing...less sinful. But it is still too good to give up. There is too strong a connection and still so much pain to soak in.
Brown meets brown as their eyes connect and their foreheads mesh in sweaty fusion.
And they knew when they started this, they opened up something evil and they can't turn back now.
"A.J....I..." She ruffles her fingers through his hair, lets it slip through as she nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck.
"I know," he smiles.
They dress quickly and don't look at each other when they do...afraid they'll want to do it again...afraid they won't.
"I'll go out. Follow in ten minutes," he tells her and she nods in agreement.
She stays in the dark for what feels like a century. She's always been in the dark. The one men hide. The one they're too ashamed to show in public. Who is she really? She isn't of noble birth. There is no blue blood in her veins. But when she is with A.J., she has a purpose, she has a meaning...she has love.
The door creaks when she opens it and she rushes down the hallway, floundering when her high heel makes her off balance on still wobbly legs. A hand comes to her elbow and she looks up in shock.
"Everything all right, Skye?"
"Everything's fine, daddy," she says, gathering her shoes in her trembling hands and walking away.
They are safe for another day. No one suspects their wicked ways even as they sit across from each other and hurl insult after insult across the supper table, while her toes travel up the expensive material of his suit to his crotch and she shows what a good 'sister' she can be.