Rating: M
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended; these characters aren't mine.
Smut and fluff and absolutely nothing else. Seriously, you've been warned.
WS
He had her pinned underneath him in the most delicious way; naked, half undone already, and powerless. Her hands lay above her head, crossed at the wrists which he held together so forcefully, he was certain she'd have bruises tomorrow.
Her eyes shone up at him in deepest, darkest blue, her lips were already swollen from their heated kisses.
She'd bitten his shoulder so hard a minute ago he had to fight the urge to rub the pain away and thus risk giving up his firm grip on her.
He regarded her, drank her in.
This was exactly how they should have fought all their battles from the start instead of wrecking the universe in the process, because at the end it always boiled down to this. These injuries were acceptable, too; a bloody scratch, a bruise, a cracked lip. He enjoyed having them on his body as much as he enjoyed knowing he'd put them on hers; forged in the heat of passion, and always soothed with a breathless apology, a lingering kiss when it was all over.
"I hate it when you do this," she hissed, and tried to get out from under him again, but he was having none of it. His free hand slid down her body and between her legs. She was soaking wet, and he did nothing to hide the cocky grin that crept across his face. "Your body is telling a very different story, Missy."
"Shut up."
And he did, because he kissed her. "I'm sorry for being stronger this time around. But I rather enjoy it. And apparently you do, too."
"I could crush you."
"But you won't."
"I hate it when you're smug, Theta, it presses all the wrong buttons," she replied and tried to knee him in the groin.
He only sniggered.
"Kiss me," she demanded.
"Yes, Mistress. Since you ask so nicely," he said, his words dripping with sarcasm, and when he brought his lips to hers it became apparent that she was still looking for a fight, kissing him hard and unforgiving. He stopped her almost immediately.
"No, no. Not like that."
Her eyes clouded over before she allowed them to fall shut, and he felt her laboured breaths against his lips. He kissed her gently and open mouthed, insatiably, until his head was spinning. When he finally released her he couldn't form a sentence.
"This isn't our game," she whispered, her eyes still closed.
"Today it is," he replied, then sucked that sensitive spot on her neck just a little bit too long and just a little bit too hard. He could feel a shiver running through her.
"I prefer playing rough, Doctor," she told him and he smiled.
"I'm not sure you do," he replied and smiled down at her. Her cheeks were so flushed she looked like she had a fever; what this did to her eyes was almost unspeakable.
"I thought this was about anger management," she whispered and wiggled with frustration. "So I don't break your nose. Or your furniture."
"I thought it was about lust," he said.
"Dominance, then?"
"Surrender."
"Sex."
"Love."
"Idiot!"
"Always," he whispered and kissed her again.
Her little body was so hot underneath him, he couldn't help but moan into her mouth.
"I'm desperate to get inside you," he said just by her ear and she all but melted. He took his cock in his free hand and positioned it to push into her, then changed his mind and let it slide through her slick folds. He pushed her legs apart with his and soon she was pressing up against him, urging him to get on with it, but he just continued his sweet torture, making her moan with frustration, and start another attempt at escaping his grip.
"Next time I'm going to have to tie you up," he told her, squeezing her wrists so hard his knuckled went white.
"Promises, promises, Doctor," she whispered, her eyes overflowing with lust and fury, and without a warning he rammed into her then; hard and fast. She inhaled sharply, then let out a cry.
"God! You'll pay for that."
"Promises, promises," he whispered and kissed her ever so gently on the mouth. "Sorry."
He pulled back out before pushing back into her, but much, much more gentle this time, setting a slow and heady pace. Their mouths were merely inches apart and he felt every breath, every almost spoken word, every sigh. He kissed her just behind the ear and she shivered.
"Please," she whispered "Please, let go of my hands. I want to touch you. Please, Theta, I'll be good. I promise."
His senses were too flooded with her, she probably knew it, and so he released her from his fierce grip.
To his surprise, instead of immediately trying to get on top of him and running the show, she stayed where she was, only wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her. As soon as his lips touched hers she continued the kiss he'd started earlier, and it was altogether too sensual, filled with too much of what was never said between them, and he felt himself unravel.
In the most intimate of gestures she took his face between her hands and gently rested her forehead against his.
"I want you," she whispered.
"I want you," he replied so quietly. Her admission was far more shocking to him than hearing his own finally said out loud. His hearts ached for her in the most unusual way, and despite the fact that he was very much already fucking her, and that she was, at this very moment in time, indisputably his.
She wrapped her legs around him, allowing him to thrust even deeper into her, and he did.
One arm snaked around her, lifting her hips off the bed, and she swore every time he drove into her. Her hands were back above her head but only to keep herself from slamming into the headboard. Her hair was a tangled mess. She looked like sin, and he couldn't get enough.
He knew she was going to come before she breathlessly announced it, felt it inside and out.
"Missy," he said and her eyes flew open, her pupils huge, an abyss he threw himself into willingly, knowing it may well be his undoing, and accepting all consequences. He went for her mouth again, but their breathing was too laboured to allow another kiss, so they just stayed like that, lips hovering, waiting for the inevitable. She came not three seconds later, and had he not watched her, he probably could have lasted a bit longer, but he was done, gave her one more, two more thrusts, cursed against her luscious lips, and completely fell apart, collapsing on top of her, his face buried in her hair.
When he came to he rolled off of her, but immediately pulled her little body back against his, spooning her.
She smelled of sex and time and the universe, and it was bliss. Complete and utter unadulterated bliss.
She let out a contented sigh and he kissed her neck.
"I'm sorry, but I left you with a rather prominent love bite."
"Forever the immature one, Theta," she teased.
He blew against it before kissing it again.
"I'm sorry."
"You're not," she said, and he sensed her smile.
"Did I hurt you?" she asked and reached up and behind herself, gently stroking his head for a moment.
"No," he lied, remembering his shoulder. She turned her head slightly, and quickly kissed the corner of his mouth.
He ran his hand up her side and back down again where he rested it on her hip.
"You're beautiful," he whispered.
"And you're a fool."
"You know I'm not just saying it. I've always found you beautiful. You know that."
She didn't reply, but he hadn't expected her to. Instead of offering him words, she took his hand and held it over her hearts.
He closed his eyes and listened, then pulled her against him even tighter.
One day, he thought. When we've run out of time and universe, when it's all over, we'll rise from the ashes, you and me, bruised and battered, your hand in my hand, and when you ask me if it was worth it, I'll answer you truthfully: "Yes, it was worth it. All of it."
He took a deep breath and sighed.
"What?" she asked softly.
"You," he whispered.