A/N: Okay, so I'll admit originally I was going to go a completely different direction with this and maintain the T rating, but once I started writing, this is what the hamsters that run my dubious little brain told my fingers to write, and honestly it made me squee. I just *had* to go there. WARNING: if you came in expecting fluff and snuggles, you're in for a surprise. I changed the rating for a reason. Rated for sexual content and Owen's near-constant swearing in his inner monologue. DISCLAIMER: I own about as much of Jurassic World as I own of Niagara Falls, which is a fat lotta nothin'. I just get the satisfaction of seeing Owen and Claire happy together.
Second First Date, Shot the Second: Slow Burn
Owen had to pinch himself to be certain he wasn't dreaming. He was here, in Claire's apartment, with her. He closed the door behind them and paused long enough to lock it as Claire dropped his blazer over the back of chair nestled under the little, antique-looking kitchen table and kicked off her shoes. She shrugged out of her cardigan. Underneath, her sundress was strapless, revealing more freckles that dappled her shoulders. She turned towards him, running her fingers through her thick auburn hair. He could tell it would be up to him to make the first move. He stepped toward her, intent on resuming what they had started on the porch, but Claire flushed and spun away, putting the kitchen counter between them before she stopped again.
"So…coffee," he offered, trying to make the situation a little less awkward for the both of them. He heard Claire's sigh of relief, and it stung just a little. What was she so afraid of? Where had the bold, sultry woman from dinner gone?
"Coffee," she agreed, reaching up into a cabinet for something. Owen allowed himself a momentary glance towards her chest, breath hitching as the swell of her breast was pulled upward by the motion, leaving less of it covered by her dress. She pulled down a canister of medium roast coffee and paused again, caught under his gaze, holding the coffee canister to her chest like a shield. She blinked and turned from him, pulling the coffeemaker forward from its spot tucked away on the counter. Owen felt useless and weird just standing there, so he headed into her living room and plopped down on her ivory couch.
"So…do you have Netflix?" He asked casually, bending forward to unlace his boots. He could still see Claire over the island created by a large window cut between the kitchen and living room. He heard the tap running as Claire filled the coffeemaker's water basin.
"I do, actually. I should still be signed in on my laptop. It runs through to the TV. Zach set it up for me the last time he and Gray were here to visit." Claire started the coffeemaker, a little more at ease for his efforts. She joined Owen on the couch as he was kicking off his boots. "I'm actually kind of hopeless when it comes to wiring, so thank God it's only one cord." Owen laughed as she opened up her laptop. He poked fun at her for the romantic comedies in her queue and was actually surprised by a few of the foreign films she'd watched. After some more playful arguing, they settled on a comedy. Claire had visibly eased, and Owen was glad. He'd been in no hurry all night, and he wasn't even sure he'd make it this far. Claire snuggled up next to him on the couch and he draped an arm around her. He was not going to try to rush this and spoil it. Claire jumped up when the coffeemaker gurgled, signaling the end of the brewing. Owen paused their movie.
"Cream and sugar?" Claire asked from the kitchen.
"Just sugar, thanks." Claire returned with the coffee after a few moments, setting Owen's mug on the coffee table in front of the couch. Owen picked up the mug and blew on the contents to cool it. He smirked and took a sip.
"What?" Claire asked, taking a small sip of her coffee. She gently placed her mug on the table.
"Nothing, I…I think this is the first time going back to someone's place for coffee actually meant having coffee." Owen took another sip and set the coffee back on the table. He leaned over to restart their movie, his shirt hiking up his side as he did so. Claire grinned to herself and reached over and tickled his exposed hip. Owen yelped in surprise, almost falling off the couch. Claire doubled over, laughing. "Trying to start something, Claire?" Owen turned towards her and pinned her to the couch, tickling her sides mercilessly. Claire squealed and tried to squirm away.
"Owen, what…Owen, no, stop it!" She could hardly breathe through her laughter.
"Nuh-uh. Say you're sorry for tickling me." Owen held her pinned underneath him. When it seemed like she would squirm away and get free, Owen straddled her, trapping her underneath his full weight. "Say it!" He was grinning like a madman.
"OH myee Gooood, I'm sorryeee!" Claire squealed out, squirming, her hair forming a red halo around her head, glowing brightly against the couch cushions. Her face was as red as her hair, and her breathless flush extended down her neck to her chest, just as he had suspected. Her squirming had pulled the dress dangerously low, and he found freckles dotting the tops of her breasts as well. Owen's grin widened, his eyes positively wild and predatory. He couldn't give this up now.
"Now, say 'Owen Grady is the best dinosaur trainer there ever was!'" He laughed. Claire was still squirming and gasping between squeals.
"N-neeevaar! Oh my God, Owen! Knock it off!" Claire pushed against his chest, and Owen finally ceased. He collapsed on top of Claire, as breathless as she was, laughing all the while. Claire was breathing heavily, but grinning. "What was that all about?" She huffed out. Owen pushed himself up, supporting himself on his elbows. Hmm, he'd shaved his trademark scruff. She hadn't really noticed at dinner, though she supposed she should have noticed the distinctive lack of scratching against her chin as he leaned down and kissed her deeply. The sudden change in the mood caught Claire off guard, but she was hardly against it. She pressed herself up against Owen, her arms snaking around his neck. Owen pulled back and looked down at her, a look of surprise clear on his face. Claire just smiled at him and pulled him back down.
There was no going back now. The movie and the coffee could all go hang; all Owen wanted was this woman. Owen pulled back and scooped Claire up, kissing her as he skirted around the edge of her coffee table. He broke away momentarily and looked at Claire.
"Bedroom?" It wasn't poetry; hell, it was hardly a sentence. Really, it was a plea. A plea for her to accept what was happening between them and go with it. Claire didn't resist and indicated to a hallway beside the entertainment center. Owen peppered her with kisses as he carried her into her bedroom and plopped her on her bed, kicking the door shut behind him out of pure instinct. She hardly had time to prop herself up on her elbows before he was on top of her again, pinning her, kissing her fiercely. He wanted her so. Goddamn. Badly.
But he was going to savor each and every moment along the way. He had to restrain himself, to slow his pace. He rolled off of Claire and laid beside her, tugging her hip so that she followed and rolled toward him. She was breathless and flushed, and he could feel his smug grin widening into a genuine smile. He reached out and trailed a fingertip down one freckled ivory arm. She was smiling softly, prettily, and the sheer heat in her crystal blue eyes burned all the way down to his very soul.
"You're beautiful, Claire," he whispered, gently caressing her arm. Her smile widened and she twitched.
"That tickles…" Claire let out a breathy gasp as his fingertips skirted across her exposed collarbone. His own breath hitched, and Owen concealed a small shudder.
"In a good way, yes?" He continued to stroke her, his fingertips drawing lazy patterns on her chest and shoulders. During one particularly daring swoop, he hooked one finger under the top of her dress and dragged it along the seam. Claire moaned softly and her flush deepened, whether from embarrassment at the sound she'd made or just from his contact, he wasn't sure.
"In a very good way," Claire hummed, gently pressing her forehead to his. He kissed her, calm and unhurried, and trailed his hand over her dress, following the valley between her breasts down to her navel. Claire groaned against his lips, just as Owen had planned, and he pulled her to him and deepened the kiss. Claire was pulled taught as a bowstring, straining for contact, completely lost under Owen's onslaught. He felt a surge of pride, accompanied by the distinct rush of blood to his nether regions. She was the definition of calm, collected grace, and she was putty in his hands. He, Owen Grady, the rough-and-tumble velociraptor trainer, made Miss Starched Suit melt with a few simple caresses.
And in return, she was burning him alive. It was through sheer determination alone that Owen had not ripped her pretty sundress open at the seams. As he kissed her, one deft hand caressed her shoulders, following her shoulder blades down to the top of her dress. He gently tugged at the zipper, waiting for any kind of resistance from her, practically begging for permission. When she showed no signs of hesitation, he broke their hazy kiss long enough to drag the zipper down her back and plunge one large hand inside her dress.
Sweet, merciful velociraptor Jesus. She wasn't wearing a bra. She hadn't been wearing a bra this entire time. The thought kicked the wind right out of Owen's lungs as he realized exactly how close he'd come to glimpsing her breasts when he stole glances at her chest during dinner. It was entirely unexpected and insanely erotic, and Owen groaned, pressing his forehead into the junction of her neck and shoulder as he traced a line along where her bra band was supposed to be with a flat palm. Claire shivered, cradling his head as best as she could, given their current position.
"So," Owen bit out, trying to maintain some measure of decorum in his voice, "little Miss Prim goes braless. Good to know." Claire laughed and gently kissed the top of his head in a sign of affection that nearly killed him. She's enjoying this. She actually likes me. She wants this.
"When the occasion requires, yes, I go braless." Owen groaned again, and his large hand stilled on her back. "Now that I know what affect it has on you, I'll go braless more often." The very idea kicked his heartbeat into high gear, and Owen kissed her just to silence her. The very thought of Claire, braless, perhaps walking around in a tight, stretchy tee and jeans…her breasts straining against the fabric, begging him to touch…He groaned at his own thoughts. The very idea that there could be a repeat performance, that he had other opportunities with Claire, had him reeling.
Claire was grinning, hell, she was downright smug. He couldn't let her win this battle of wills. She would cave before he did, dammit. He pushed her back onto her back and sat himself up, gathering up her dress by the skirt and tugging it forcefully down her legs, tossing it to the floor in a heap. When he turned back to Claire, his brain temporarily left his body, and he couldn't breathe.
She was almost completely bared to him, with only her blue lace-trimmed panties obstructing his view of her. She had made no move to cover her breasts after he undressed her; her hands rested on either side of her head, outside her halo of wild red hair. He watched her beautiful breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and traced a finger along the lace waistline of her panties. Claire let out a little yelp of surprise and blushed. Up until that point, the caresses had been more innocent and innocuous. It was almost as if what she had gotten herself into had dawned on her at that instant, and she showed no signs of hesitation.
"I was almost expecting granny panties," he quipped, and Claire scoffed and grinned deviously up at him. She stretched languidly, arching her back and perking up her breasts for him. She crossed her arms above her head, sighing comfortably.
"Those are for every other day. I break these out for…special occasions." Her words hit him like a ten-ton sack of bricks. Was she serious? Did that mean she'd been planning to sleep with him all along? Did she really wear granny panties?!
Focus, man, FOCUS. Owen struggled to maintain control as blood thrummed in his ears and…lower body. He was painfully aware of the zipper teeth biting in to one particular lower extremity as it strained against his jeans. Claire squirmed a little under his gaze, and he watched a slight chill go up her body.
"Well, Mr. Grady, do I still have my 'perfect figure?'" Owen's eyes traced Claire from head to toe. She was beyond perfect. She was absolutely ungodly beautiful, and he had no words to tell her. Instead, he surged forward, straddling her and holding her arms pinned in their position above her head. Denim scraped along her delicate skin and she let out a low moan. Owen kissed Claire once before kissing along one of her splendidly high cheekbones, following it all the way back to tease the shell of her ear with his tongue. He bit one earlobe before his mouth continued its trek south, following her jaw down to the elegant column of her neck. He kissed and licked and bit his way down to the junction of her neck and shoulder and she shuddered when he bit down and laved at the area with his tongue. "God, Owen!" He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips. He suckled hard, ensuring that he would leave behind a bright, beautiful bruise, a reminder to the world that he had claimed her, that she was his now. He looked up at her, his breathing as ragged as hers.
"You're gorgeous," he managed, trailing a hand up her hip and along her ribcage, skirting his fingers around the swell of one glorious breast. She groaned and arched her back, a silent plea for more contact.
"You're overdressed." Owen had freed Claire's arms at some point during the onslaught of her neck, the need for balance overriding the desire to be alpha. She reached down and clumsily tugged on the buttons of his shirt, and Owen bit back a moan. All she had to do was touch him and he fell apart. Owen sat up out of her reach and yanked the offending shirt over his head, dragging his undershirt along with it and tossing both to the floor. He collapsed back down, catching himself just before he flattened her under his weight, his mouth coming to rest directly above one plump, round breast. He gently kissed the rise of her breast and trailed his fingertips lazily along the other, tracing a path along the swell, knuckles brushing the underside.
Claire's skin felt like it was on fire, and every touch made it burn hotter and hotter. She practically yelped when his rough knuckles grazed her breast, and she let out a desperate cry of relief and need when the same rough hand enveloped her breast, palm warm against her nipple. Her cry was met with a groan from Owen, and he kissed along the top of her other breast. She had no idea how greatly just touching her had affected him. Indeed, merely caressing a woman had never felt as good to Owen as caressing Claire felt. She cried out with wanton abandon when he closed his mouth over one taught nipple, gently rolling the other between his fingers. Her entire body spasmed and she screamed his name. She was so wonderfully receptive, and so reactive. He felt almost like…Oh God. No, nononono NO! Owen's line of thought caused him to quickly pull away from her breast and look her in the eye. Hazy, beautiful, yes, but he had a question to be answered first.
"Claire…have you…" He paused, reddening, not sure how to ask her. "Have you…done this before?" Her responses to him had been almost virginal. Claire enthusiastically nodded her head yes, and Owen visibly eased. Even as slow as he'd been making himself go, he was still going entirely too fast for a first time.
"A couple times," she admitted, "but not in a very long time." Owen had resumed his attack on her breasts, and her words became harder and harder to find, and her sentences were interrupted -by breathy moans. "I was…a teenager…God, Owen…it was…nothing compared…to this."
Good merciful God. Owen bit Claire's breast and made her yelp. He wasn't her first, which meant he didn't have to be gentle, but so far she'd just told him he was the best she'd had, and he wasn't even at the actual sex part yet! Owen's ego swelled along with another key component of his anatomy, and he was glad for the presence of his jeans. Right now, he was pretty sure that once they came off, his restraint would disappear, and he wasn't ready to give himself over to instinct just yet. He shifted his attention to Claire's other breast, his hand tracing a path along her ribs, down to the curve of her hip. He nipped along the curve of her breast and kissed down her sternum, placing random kisses and biting along the flat plane of her stomach. Claire shivered and moaned, and he kissed her hip. His fingertips traced the lace of her panties, almost hesitantly. Claire gasped, and Owen placed a gentle kiss against the soft fabric. Her gasp became a low moan. Emboldened, Owen pressed more kisses against the fabric, and Claire parted her legs slightly, giving him just enough room to slide between and nudge her legs up and on to his shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating from her, warming him down to his very core and giving him chills all over. His restrained nether regions pulsed almost painfully against his zipper as he placed another open-mouthed kiss against her very center.
Claire practically screamed. She couldn't remember the last time a man had touched her there, let alone kissed or licked the way Owen did. The fabric only caused the sensation to spread across a wider area, and Owen had to press Claire's hips down to keep them from bucking. Her hands first clenched her bedsheets, then tangled in his hair. She shuddered and moaned when his fingers hooked in the waistband of her panties and slowly dragged them down her legs. Claire's hands gripped his shoulders and her nails dug in painfully as he lowered his head and continued his torment.
Owen was surprised to see that not only did Miss Prim keep the bush well-trimmed, so to speak, but that it was also naturally a deep auburn. The drapes weren't that far off, then, he mused. She tasted clean. He turned his head to kiss along her inner thigh, leaving her whimpering.
"Owen…please…" She whimpered, her fingers tightening around his shoulders, nails digging in to his back.
"Yes, Claire?" His breathing was ragged and his mind was half gone. All that remained of his composure was the determination to make this woman scream and moan his name as many times as he could that night. He kissed one raised knee and felt her hips twitching in his hands, trying to regain contact.
"Please…don't stop." It was all Owen needed to hear. He began his assault anew with a skill few possessed. He didn't stop the first time she screamed his name and shuddered violently, nor the second, nor the third. Only when Claire's hands groped at the sides of his face and pulled him up did he pause long enough to give her a quizzical look.
"Owen…" She bit her lip, suddenly shy. He knew exactly what she wanted, and his groin throbbed almost painfully at the neglect it had received thus far. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he had to hear her say it. "…Please. I need you." Owen pulled himself back up the length of Claire's body with almost inhuman speed. His lips slammed into hers as her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle. He pulled away and knelt long enough to tear it off and rip off his jeans. He was almost certain he saw the button fly across the room in his haste. His boxers came off with the jeans and both joined their mixed heap of clothes on the floor. He stayed knelt over her, naked as the day he was born and very prominent. Claire openly admired him, and he couldn't help but smirk as pride surged through him. Owen knew he was well above average, and he was rather proud of his assets. Claire somehow managed to pull herself up and reach out to grasp the length of him in one delicate hand.
Holy fucking mother of fucking fuck. This woman was unreal. She treated his cock like one of her delicate fossilized bones, trailing her fingertips from base to tip. She reacted to him like she had never seen a cock before, and he had to remind herself that the last time she'd done this, she'd been much younger. By his best estimate, he probably had quintuple the experience she had with what they were about to do. He groaned and almost fell off the bed when her lips closed around his head. He pushed her away, perhaps a little more roughly than he'd intended, and she looked confused and…hurt? Owen crawled across the bed and gathered her up in his arms.
"This is your last chance to back out, Claire. I don't know how much longer I can hold back. Touch me or…do that again and I'm gonna lose it." He could hardly believe he had the restraint left to say what he was saying, let alone find the words to say it. He gently took hold of her chin in his hands and tilted her face up. Piercing blue met crystalline blue as his eyes bore into hers, down to her very soul. He kissed her, much gentler than he just had, and pulled away. The desire in her eyes and the downright pouty look she gave him when he ended the kiss threatened to end him right then. "Last chance to say no, Claire. Are you sure you want this?" Are you sure you want me? That had been the question he'd wanted to ask, if she would take him with his faults and his board shorts and his unrefined manner. Claire stretched up and kissed him, her arms wrapping around his neck. She pulled away, glossy-eyed and breathless.
"I've never been more sure of anything."
Restraint? What was restraint? Owen's last thread of self-control snapped, and he pinned Claire back against the bed, kissing her fiercely. He pressed his pelvis against hers and Claire whimpered in response. Owen had just enough rational thought left in his head to reach between them and slowly slide two fingers into her.
Jumping Jesus CHRIST, hotwettight. He crooked his fingers towards the spot that he knew would make her scream, pressing against it as Claire rocked against his hand by pure instinct.
"Good God, Owen!" Claire screamed as she climaxed, her hips bucking against his hand in a frantic attempt to gain more stimulation. Owen withdrew his fingers and she looked like she might hit him. He aligned himself and pressed against her, and slowly, torturously slowly, he pushed forward. Owen moaned as his hips surged forward of his own accord, burying him in her up to the hilt. Claire moaned and squirmed against him, partly in pain, partly in pleasure. She was ridiculously tight and so hot. Owen pressed his forehead against Claire's as he pulled out, bit by bit, and surged back in. Claire's legs wrapped around his waist, pain forgotten, and Owen really and truly lost all control, bucking into her with wild abandon. Claire met him thrust for thrust in a frenzied pace, her inner muscles tightening and spasming around him. She screamed and her inner muscles clamped down around him, and her final climax sent Owen over the edge. He shouted her name as he spent himself and collapsed on top of her, boneless. Before he could flatten her under his weight, he rolled off of her to his back, dragging her with him, pulling her up against his side and tucking her into the crook of his arm. He held her tightly, panting and trying to regain his composure. She sighed and smiled against his skin.
"Was good for you?" He managed, tongue still thick and head still spinning. She nodded, too brainless to even speak, and hugged him tightly. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reached down to tug her blankets up and over them both. "Good." He felt her breathing deepen, and for the first time in his life, a woman fell asleep before Owen did after sex. He felt her breathing even out and he pulled her closer to him. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of her soft skin against his, her warm breath on his chest. For the first time, the woman he'd gone to bed with wasn't the only one completely sated and satisfied. For the first time, Owen Grady had been given a second chance at a first impression. And he'd succeeded.
A/N: Hope that was as fun to read as it was to write! Reviews are like cookies; I like to shove as many of them in my face as I can while still being able to breathe.