Title: Turn About is Fair Play
Author:
Cprav
Characters: Mick, Beth?
Rating: NC-17
Words: approx. 2300
Spoilers: none
Summary: Complete PWP. I just wanted some MickBeth smut. The beginning and end aren't that great, but this baby's all about the smut. I never use Beth's name, so you can imagine whoever you want with Mick.
Disclaimer: it all belongs to WB, CBS, Joel Silver, Alex & Sophia.
She stepped off the elevator and into the hallway. Her boots click on the shiny marble floor and she winced at the noise. She noticed the light on in Mick's office and walked toward it. Standing in front of the door, she hesitated a moment and as she finally raised her hand to knock, his voice drifted from inside, beckoning her in. She slipped through the door and closed it softly behind her then turned to face him.
"Are you busy, Mick?" He looked up at her, trying to gauge her mood, but she was giving off no clues. She was just her normal calm, cool, collected self.
"Just catching up on some paperwork from that case we just finished. What's up?" She took a seat on the plush, red couch.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That guy really did a number on you." Mick stood and walked over to her, sitting next to her on the couch and traced a finger lightly along her jaw, with slight pressure to turn her to look at him, saying nothing.
"Vamp healing remember? I'm fine. YOU should have stayed in the car like I told you to. You could have gotten yourself killed." His finger made its way down to her throat. The gesture sent bolts of electricity through her and again she bit her lip, tilting her head to the side to give him greater access, but then he pulled away and she tried in vain to hide her. He smiled at her and moved his hand to the nape of her neck, his thumb running over her pulse point.
"I'm sorry, I was just so worried, I heard the shots and…"
He increased the pressure of the circles he made on her throat, letting her know without words that he understood. Then he moved in, exchanging his fingers for this tongue, tasting her concern and fear for him on her skin. He suddenly had the urge to really taste her... She tried to concentrate on Mick, on the reason she had come to see him today, but it was getting extremely difficult. Her world was quickly narrowing on the exquisite feeling of his tongue against her skin, his hair against her face, strong arms wrapped around her.
"Mick…" He switched to the other side of her throat and scraped blunt teeth across her, containing the bit of vampiric/manly pride that surfaced as he registered the change in her scent, felt her hands tangle in his hair and curl around a bicep. "oh God… Mick, this isn't what I came here for…"
"I know it isn't." She felt his cool breath against her ear. "Do you want me to stop?" She answered by pulling him closer, trying to coax him with the column of her throat and he chose that moment to undo the button and zipper on her pants.
They'd only done this a few times before, but already she'd come to crave it. Sure she'd thought about it before – fantasized about his hands on her like this; wondered how his bite would feel when he wasn't dying; the taste of his lips, of him – who wouldn't? But the real thing was, of course, so much better; more intense then she'd ever felt.
He quickly removed her clothes and the world disappeared until it was just the two of them. Tongue trailing the short distance from her ear to pulse point; a hand moving slowly down to her already wet folds – just his touch, a look, could do that to her – two fingers slipping inside and the other at her back, supporting her as he guides her to lie on the couch. Shivering as hair brushes against her skin; flesh puckering into goose bumps as his cool breath travels over her; plush fabric caressing her back as she shifts against it; fingers massaging her inner walls; canine digging painfully into her bottom lip. This is what she feels as he moves down her body, doing nothing but taking in her scent as he goes; frustrating and intoxicating all at the same time.
Wet tongue – finally! – on her, circling her belly button. Her eyes slip shut and she savours the sensations, moving slowly in time with his fingers stroking inside her, trying to grasp at the cushion of the sofa and silently yearning for his tongue to continue its journey.
Then nothing.
Her eyes fly open and she sees him watching her with a smirk. She's able to stop herself from begging… but only vocally. He can see it in her eyes, in the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the rush of blood through her veins, the slight arch of her hips as they search out his missing fingers. His hands are back on her now; spreading her legs wide so one foot is on the floor and her other leg is pressed hard into the back of the couch. Shivering as the air cools her skin where his wet fingers have marked her. He parts her with his thumbs and then she's finally rewarded for her patience and she throws her head back as his soft tongue slowly travels across her slit and his thumbs caress her.
Slowly, determinedly, he works her into a frenzy. Tongue rock hard, stabbing and flicking at her clit; plunging into her and withdrawing over and over, fucking her as his large hands grip her harder; then slowing, soft and wet against her, stroking and licking and savouring her; nipping and pulling at her folds and clit with his lips and teeth.
Writhing on the couch, arching up into his expert mouth, her heart pounds in her chest and her breathing comes in quick pants. They combine with the sound of him working her down below and are deafening to her own ears. Juxtaposition of his rough stubble against her sensitive flesh and his soft curls against her bare thigh as he moves and shifts against her. Her fingers quickly curl in and out of fists, her toes involuntarily mimicking, and through her haze she searches for something for them to do. She wants to thread her fingers through his hair but she stops herself, gripping her thighs instead, digging in and leaving deep half-moon shaped marks in her skin as Mick continues his assault.
She can no longer contain herself and she's moaning and whimpering; wanting him to bite her to finish her off – she's so close. She wonders if he'll mark her thigh and she moans, that thought alone making her come. She bites her lip and throws her head back as the climax overtakes her but Mick only intensifies his attack, drawing out her orgasm, lapping up everything she offers him and plunging back into her for more. As she comes down off her high, he finally slows until he's just lazily stroking her. He moves to her thighs, cleaning the miniscule drops of blood that she drew from herself and then he's kissing her, and her tongue alternates between dueling with his and searching out his mouth for more of her taste. One hand finally reaches its goal of twining through his hair as the other expertly frees him from his jeans. She sits up and pushes him back into the couch, lowering herself submissively to her knees on the floor between his legs and looks up at him.
"My turn," she says smugly.
"You just had your turn." She glares at him playfully then licks her lips and sets to work.
Mick starts to deliver a retort but he stops as he feels her, hot and wet, enveloping him. Her lips are tight around his hardness and her hand wraps around the base of him. She stays like that, perfectly still – not moving or licking or even breathing – for a moment. Just as he's about to growl at her in protest, she starts to move. Slowly. Lips sliding, hand pumping, fingers caressing. She lets him slip from her mouth, curling her tongue around the tip. She strokes him from base to tip, teasing the head with her thumb; alternating between quick, hard, punishing tugs that have him arching off the couch in pleasure and soft, fluttering, barely there caresses that leave him shivering with desire.
The feel of him in her hand and the hard floor under her knees; lingering taste of his skin in her mouth; hearing the noises he makes – light growls and rumbling purrs; looking into his eyes, watching him move and twitch and grow and harden and arch under her expert attentions; his masculine scent mingling with the scent of her sex still in the air. She's all worked up with need again; shuddering and sighing and licking her lips and feeling everything head quickly south; and she abandons the balls she was so carefully kneading and plunges two fingers into her hole, still slick from her release and getting wetter, she wastes no time in adding a third as her mouth descends on him again with a moan.
Eyes closed, but Mick can still smell and feel and hear how turned on she's getting just by pleasing him. It's a (not so) vicious circle, playing off each other; she watches him and he grows and hardens and twitches, it turns her on more and her scent wafts up to him, driving his need. He opens eyes and meets hers, blue but filled with fire, holding his gaze as she licks a pearly drop; she moans at his taste, greedy, wanting more, and then completely surrounds him in her heated mouth. Her hands never still, pumping and caressing them both, her head bobs up and down quickly as she works him, and when he's about to come she backs off, taking her mouth completely off him, save her tongue, just licking him lightly.
When her devilish mouth returns she experiments with him, running her teeth along his length, just slightly harder than she would with a human. He growls appreciatively and his hands move into her hair; no pressure or guiding, just weaving in and out of her locks, pushing the hair back out of her face to see her eyes; her silky strands against his thigh and between his fingers another tactile experience. She soothes him with her hot breath and soft tongue even as she continues the experiment, finding the perfect pressure of her teeth and hands and lips on Mick, the perfect combination to please both the man and the vampire. He's fully vamped now, growling and snarling and purring all at the same time. She works herself furiously with her fingers, works him even harder until again he's about to come and again she backs off, releasing him from her mouth, but still working him slowly with her hand.
Mick snarls in frustration.
She smirks with mischief.
Finally she leads an all-out assault on him; one goal, one purpose in mind now. Make. Mick. Come. She takes him in to the back of her throat, swallowing and moaning (to make him crazy, but also because she at the edge herself), hands flying over his ass, his balls – whatever doesn't make it past her lips. Her mouth is sore from its activity; her knees bruised from her movements as she pleasures him and writhes with her own impending orgasm. She feels and hears the change in him as he once again reaches that edge and this time she'll let him fall over it. Without missing a beat as she works him, she tears her fingers from her body, practically dripping with her juices and offers her wrist to him. He can see in her eyes how much she wants and needs it.
He takes her wrist roughly in his hand, his other still playing in her hair, brings it closer to him, but doesn't go in for the bite yet. He captures her wet fingers in his cool mouth, wrapping his tongue around them, cleaning them. Everything she does to him with her wicked mouth he returns the favour on her fingers. His oh so talented mouth brings a brief thought to her lust filled mind about Mick's possible, past sexual experience. Her moans are continuous now, her movements erratic with the need to come, the sensations shoot through him and he can wait no longer. He releases her fingers and trails his tongue from the tip of her middle finger, across her palm to her wrist and plunges his fangs into her.
The penetration and the first splash of her arousal filled blood triggers their orgasms instantly. Almost simultaneously she lets out a muffled scream of pleasure and bites down on him before remembering what exactly it is she biting down on and backs off slightly. Mick snarls against her wrist, pulling it closer, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of her spicy blood; he holds her in place with his hand at the back of her head. It's not required though, she doesn't plan on moving until she's milked every last drop from him. His taste is intoxicating as it splashes into her mouth; she can almost taste the power he wields behind his gentle exterior. She coaxes his cool, sweet/salty taste from him with lips and tongue and hand and teeth, greedily swallowing everything he offers her. As he mimicked her, she now mimics him, doing to him whatever he does to her wrist, and after she's tasted his last drop and he stops pulling her blood from her body she continues to mimic him as he cleans and heals her wounds.
Then he's pulling her up to him and they share the taste of their mutual releases and her blood as they come down from their highs.
End