Sky: I do believe some of our reviewers left us a cheery "SMUT HO!" last chapter, did they not, Inu? I'm pretty sure this will satiate all their sexy BAMF time needs. As always, twas a pleasure working with you.
Inu: Yes Sky, yes they did bring us a cheery demand for BAMF sex. To which we have complied and granted thee. Thanks for reading everyone! And of course, it was a great pleasure, no pun intended, working with you too. I'm sure we'll come up with more fun stuff to write together in the near future.
He'd managed to pour himself another drink and make himself comfortable on her couch before she emerged to fetch him. From the looks of things she'd taken a minute to clean herself up, the dirt from before noticeably lacking, only her hair remaining in that particularly dishevelled state. A part of him of didn't doubt that she'd kept it that way on purpose, the tangles and rises, how it fell in just the perfect way across her eyes and shoulders, to remind those looking of what precisely had caused it to be so. Of fingers buried in it, using it as a hold during searing kisses. Of fisting a hand in that dark mass, using it to crane her head back, exposing the column of her throat…
He shook his head, attempting to clear the all too vivid images assaulting his senses. In her home, after being so close, he felt her on his skin, the particular scent, an amalgamation of tropical flowers and her, still maddeningly surrounding him.
Taylor sipped his beverage, rolling the amber liquid about in the glass. More alcohol was not going to improve matters any, but it soothed him.
"The bath is ready, sir." A part of him couldn't help but smile at her choice of words. It was not her bath or his bath, but the bath. An impartial terminology, giving neither of them a leg up on the other…
Now there was an interesting image…
God damn it all, what the hell was happening to him? He closed his eyes, attempting to clear it from his mind (because he couldn't look at her when such thoughts were playing havoc with his consciousness. If he did, he held no doubts they'd never make it back to the bath). Only, in the darkness there he found the images even more…colourful. How her lips parted, her desperate moans, her nails raking across his back…
The composed commander took an unsteady breath, offering her a smile, "Coming, Wash." Something flashed in her eyes, an answering longing, that said she'd seen preciously where his thoughts had drifted. More than that, it said she was not in the least offended. Intrigued, perhaps, but not offended.
He followed a safe distance behind her, arriving to find her waiting for him. If anything the second bath was even more exaggeratedly feminine. It's flowery scent, the water thick with an impressive amount of bubbles, and positively…pink. How in god's name she got a hold of something like that in Terra Nova he had no idea (and wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know). She did not step in, making an absent gesture to the water, "After you."
And if he wanted to be clean he'd damn well do it. It was only the memory of the ruptured pipes back at his own home, and the prospect of another encounter with his lieutenant that steeled him enough to do so. He tossed her his towel (and pretended not to notice the ever so subtle tilt of her head, or the pleased quirk of her lips) as he lowered himself down into the infernal thing. It left him pink to midway up his chest, the absurd little things tickling at his skin. The water itself was vastly different. The first time it had been comfortably warm, becoming tepid later. It was scalding now.
She waited patiently for him to settle, drumming her fingers absently on her hip. "Come on in, lieutenant. The water's…" he frowned, shrugging, "fine." Though it was really too hot be fine. It was only the wicked glimmer in her eye that stopped him from voicing his displeasure. It said she had very little interest in running a third bath for them, and this one was damn well going to count.
Wash tossed her own towel aside, not bothering to check where it fell, offering him a shameless view of her before she joined him. Occasionally, when covered with mud or when she fell more heavily into her role as solider rather than friend, it was easy to forget how miserably attractive she was. Her own musculature so terribly different from his own, elegant and lithe and sinewy, lending her an almost ethereal grace, pleasingly formed and soft looking in contrast to himself. She didn't blush under his gaze, simply squared her shoulders, her head held high and proud, like some warrior queen or nymph.
He scowled at the flowery image. Too much pink, all around him, was making him soft.
She settled herself on his lap, a reversal of their earlier positions. It was no longer a play for power, her eyes warning him not to fight her on this. The woman plucked a waiting cloth from the rim of the tub, dipping it in the water. His eyes widened when she began the process of cleaning him, brushing the wetted fabric across the smears of dirt marring his skin.
And therein lay an explanation for her actions. She assumed a dominant position atop him to justify the presumed subservience of tending to him. She'd taken pains to place them on equal footing again.
He allowed it, and that pleased her.
And he had to admit that it was a pleasant experience. She used the towel briefly, cleaning the majority of the dirt before transitioning into a more personal method. Her right hand swiped aside any offending mud, her left followed along behind it, tracing feather light patterns, cool against his heated skin and hair. There was something oddly fascinating about simply watching her go about her task. It's a simple one, requiring little attention, but her face adopted a look of absolute concentration. It bore similarities to the expression she wore when she stitched him up, or when she was addressing a particularly hard headed recruit. It was devotion and an absolute absorption in her work, and an underlying fascination that's so foreign on her face it can't help but be intoxicating.
"Lean forward, sir," and while she addressed him with respect, it accompanied a command. Equal footing. Taylor did so, moving forward as she did. Her arms moved around to his back, bringing their torso's flush against each other. Here, she simply discarded the towel. Her fingers dipped lower, alternately stroking and scratching along the length of his spine. Occasionally it was both at once, her left hand tearing while her right attempted to mend. A groan escaped him, muffled by her hair. She chuckled, dipping her head to press a kiss to his neck just below his ear, tongue flicking out to trace the shell, replaced by the gentle grazing of teeth a moment later.
When he tried to shift them into a more comfortable position (more truthfully, when he tried to shift the balance of power) she rolled her hips in warning, a hiss of breath against his cheek. He bit down on her shoulder (harder than called for really, and it earned him another thrust), unwilling to admit to the effect she'd had on him.
Wash leaned back, an amused sort of look curving her lips before crashing into him. It was not entirely like it was before (there something less frantic, less aggressive about it) as she hummed against his mouth. Her tongue traced his teeth before settling on engaging his own, replacing aggression with languid, almost teasingly slow, strokes. It has him clutching her to him (and she let out a pleased little moan, not unakin to the one he'd heard in his mind earlier, when his hand settled on her ass); it had her hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging.
She rocked against him again, unintentionally, and she let out a positively breathy sound. Perhaps a curse, perhaps a blessing, but it pulled her away from the kiss long enough to permit him explore her. His free hand occupied itself with a breast, his thumb tracing lazy patterns around the nipple. She had a scar just below her left ribs ( a permanent reminder of her brush with death in Somalia) and he brushed a finger across it with a reverence entirely foreign to either of them.
His lips were more concerned with her throat, alternately kissing and sucking in rhythm with the pattern of her fingers on his shoulder. She arched against him, obligingly exposing her neck. She was willing to allow him this authority over her, a desire to touch and be touched overwhelming their latent struggle for control. When he dipped his head, his mouth mimicking the pattern her fingers had left from memory, she tightened around him.
He'd never heard his lieutenant's voice break in such a manner. In fact, the idea that the woman, so composed, so stoic, so in control, could even adopt such a pitch was ludicrous. Wash's voice adopted a tone nothing short of pleading, breathy and desperate into his hair. It takes one word for her to break his carefully schooled control.
"Nathaniel…"
With a shuddering breath, he left her neck and dove for her mouth. Immediately his tongue delved into her hot cavern. He moaned from the sensation of her tongue rubbing against his in languid motions, slowing down his frantic need of her. The hand that rested on Wash's backside squeezed for a moment, emitting a breathy noise of surprise from his lieutenant, before he slid it up into her hair; tangling his hand in her dark, damp tresses.
He had a firm grip on her hair, prohibiting her from escaping his grasp. His other hand pressed to her middle and pushed, forcefully making her move despite her sounds of protest. Without moving his lips away from hers, he had her against the side of the bathtub, straddling her lap with his weight. With the tub being barely big enough to fit one person, it was exceedingly cramped with the both of them together. On the other hand, it allowed Taylor to pin her back to the side of it; using the other side of the tub as leverage for his feet in keeping her there, flush against his body.
Her hard nipples pressed into his chest, creating the most delicious sensation when his chest rubbed against them in a struggle to hold her still. With his free hand clenching and unclenching from his growing need beside her head, he tore his lips away from hers, giving them a chance to breathe. Completely in the throes of passion, Alicia's eyes rolled in the back of her head when both his hands slid over her body to her breasts. His mouth watered when his hands cupped them fully. A perfect fit.
He grunted, pleased by this. He made to dip his head low, but the hand on his chest stopped him. His heated gaze lifted to meet warm amber in silent question. She leaned into him, her cheek deliberately grazing his as her lips came sinfully close to his ear. He felt her hot breath on his flesh as she uttered one husky word, "Bedroom," into his ear.
Without wasting time, he hauled them both to their feet. Wash pulled the plug to let the water out before stepping out. She wrapped a towel around her body and left her bathroom with a dripping Commander hot on her heels. Alicia made to reach for her door before she was pulled by her waist flat against the front of Nathaniel's body. With her back to him, he couldn't see her eyes flutter momentarily.
A hand on her waist and another on her hip, he forced her feet apart with one of his legs. Using the hand on her hip, he delved further down and listened to her breath coming out in fast shudders as she waited in anticipation for what she knew he was going after. When his fingers parted the towel, she put a hand on the wall and exhaled, preparing herself for the pleasure she was sure to receive.
Finally reaching his destination, Nathaniel used his middle finger to slowly, yet firmly, slide down over her clitoris. His finger came back up, only to slide down once again. Wash dug her nails into her wall, her mouth opening in silent pleasure as he did it again and again and again. Her other hand rested on the arm sliding ever so slowly with his finger.
Alicia was this close to bucking her hips to get more sensation from his ministrations when he delved his wonderful finger into her heated core. His breath caught in his throat and it was him that arched his neck. She was so wet.
"Jesus, Wash," he breathed out and after a moment, slid his finger out. He slid it back in her firmly until his knuckle reached her opening. Her broken moan enticed one of his own to escape the confines of his throat.
Alicia wanted to turn around and take his lips, his arms, his toned abdomen…hell, anything into her mouth. She wanted- no, needed- to find purchase with her mouth, somehow keep it occupied. Otherwise she would emit sounds from that she found too embarrassing to let Nathaniel hear. One sound, however, forced its way out when the Commander curled his finger inside her, finding her special spot.
"Yes…" she breathed, bucking her hips, unable to keep herself from standing still. She felt his growl of approval rumble through his chest, spurring on her own animalistic sounds.
His finger moved faster, pressing more insistently against her clit as he invaded her inner walls most deliciously. Taylor's breathing came out laboured, his own arousal spiking at how responsive she was to him. He took his finger from her completely, earning him a hiss of disapproval. Turning her around, he reached behind her and opened her bedroom door.
Walking her backwards, he ripped the towel from her body and pounced when the backs of her knees hit the edge of her bed. Air rushed out of her in a huff as he landed on her but she recovered quickly enough to hook a leg over his hip and bring him in closer to her.
His mouth found and latched onto one of her nipples, causing her to arch into him, a small hum escaping her throat. Taking a moment to calm down, Taylor sucked harder as he lowered his hips, preparing to enter her.
Alicia brought her free leg up over his hip to join the other, granting him a much smoother entrance. A hand landed on his shoulder while the other took hold of his head to keep him where he was. The moment he moved, she held her breath. When the tip of him greeted her slick folds, she couldn't help but release it in a high pitched whoosh. And finally, when he slid inside her to the hilt, her eyes rolled and a long, low moan escaped her lips.
Taylor's mouth freed her nipple at the sensation of her tight walls wrapping firmly around him. His face was red from the strain of trying to control himself. When he looked down at the woman underneath him, all hopes of restraint vanished.
She was a vixen to the core. It was what he decided when his eyes landed on her and in response, a positively wicked look passed over her features. She licked her lips and slowly tightened her walls around him.
Oh but if the sensation wasn't delightful.
In answering revenge, he pulled out of her, took hold of her hip with one hand and braced himself with the other. He plunged back in, hard and fast, her breasts bouncing from the force of it. Her eyes rolled and when he pulled out slowly and repeated the action, a husky moan came out of her.
"Faster…" she breathed; half pleading, half demanding. He ignored her, enjoying this revenge far too much to comply just yet. She felt the pressure build and build inside her at a slow, steady pace but it wasn't enough. She wanted more. Bucking her hips, she tried enticing him to go faster but his control was steeled down. Instead, he moved them further onto her bed with a thrust of his hips. The force of it elicited a moan from her lips.
He squeezed her hip in silent warning to keep with the pace he was setting. Slowly, as the tension in him built, he went a little faster. Alicia hummed in satisfaction and let her hands roam over his body. With certain scars and muscles that she traced, his breath would come out in a shudder and his look of concentration would intensify.
Rolling his hips on his way back in took Alicia by surprise. Before she could stop herself, her back arched and a cry of pleasure lifted from the depths of her voice box. The sound alone was enough to make Nathanial go crazy. Accompanied by the feel of her, well, it was just too much. His military control snapped.
Grabbing a leg, he forced it over his shoulder to get a deeper angle. "Oh… god…!" Alicia couldn't help it. This man was able to force noises out of her at the command of his hips. If she wasn't so passion filled, she might have been embarrassed by it. Instead, she moved her hips with his.
Her walls clenched and unclenched of their own accord as her end neared. Taylor felt it, sped up his pace and trailed a hand to her clit. Obviously he wasn't far behind her.
When his thumb moved expertly over her sensitive nub, she tossed her head back and dug her nails into his shoulders; trying to find purchase.
One…two…three strokes of his thumb combined with the feel of him inside her had Alicia undulating her hips against him. "Nathaniel!" she cried out as her climax slammed into her, taking her to new heights. For that moment, nothing else mattered but the feeling of utter and total completion.
Nathaniel wasn't far behind her, especially after she cried out his name. Taking his hand away from her clitoris, he braced both on either side of her and thrust with a force that jarred her bed from the wall. He tensed, every muscle in his body preparing for the mind numbing climax that was about to shatter him.
"Commander…" Taylor's eyes widened, "Nathaniel…!" Alicia's eyes rolled in the back of her head. It was too much. There was something so sexy and completing about her calling out his military title followed by his name. He threw his head back and spilled everything he had into her. She milked him for all he was worth, earning a moan. He thrust into her until it became an effort with his tired muscles coming down from his high.
He pulled out of her and lay down beside her. They both breathed heavily, neither of them saying a word for a long moment.
"I think," Taylor started. "I could go again." The look he earned from Alicia had him chuckling. "Did I exhaust you too much, Alicia?" he deliberately drawled out her name in the huskiest manner he knew.
This had her narrowing her eyes at him at his challenge. She climbed on top of him. "Not a chance, Commander," she returned the favour with a seductive voice of her own. The Commander smirked and therein started another bout of passion.
"Are you sure we can just walk in?" Jim Shannon asked Mark Reynolds. The two had been searching for the Commander for a little less than a half hour. They came to the conclusion that if anyone were to know where the Commander was, it would be Alicia.
"Yeah, it's no problem. I walk in all the time," said Mark, talking long strides into the lieutenant's home. It was when Jim put a firm hand on the young soldier's shoulder that he stopped in his tracks. Looking at his girl friend's father, he frowned when he saw a disturbed look pass over his features.
"I have an idea as to where they both are," he started. "If you value your innocent eyes, I suggest; one, you stop walking in whenever you want and two, we look no further for either of them."
It took Mark a moment to clue in. Until he heard a breathy moan emit from down the hall. Horrified, Mark's head shot to her closed door and back to Jim. Instantly, Mark was out of the house with a bemused Jim Shannon in tow. "Right then…what do you think would happen if we made kissy faces at them at their next shift?" he asked the younger man.
Mark didn't think it was funny at all and by the glare he gave Jim, he conveyed just that.
"No? Bad idea, huh? Ah well, guess we'll just keep this between you and me then, soldier."
"…Right," he replied and stopped when Jim put an arm around his shoulder.
"Just so we're clear, if I ever find you and my Maddy in this situation…let's just say I won't be turning in the other direction," he threatened. When he received a nod, his expression instantly lightened. "Great, let's get something to eat, I'm starving."
