River likes MacCready on his back. He gets mouthy and defiant and so incredibly hard when he's at her mercy, pinned between her knees and still flaunting that cheeky smirk, daring her to make a move.
"All right, boss… you got me here." MacCready licks his teeth, a glint of wordless challenge in his eyes. Now what?
She narrows a glare at him, testing her nails along his shoulders, contours of lean muscle and old scars she's learned and loved by touch a thousand times. "God, you think you're so cute."
His hands drift comfortably up her thighs, and his smile never wavers, calm and confident. "Yeah? And whose fault is that?"
River can't help a laugh as she sinks down against his chest. "You were trouble long before I ever found you." Her mouth charts a languid path down his throat, and she feels his laughter in low tremors at her lips. "But I suppose I may have encouraged you a little."
His fingers map her spine, the delicate line of her neck, his head falling back when her tongue tracks the pulse in his throat. "This feels like… encouragement."
The teeth at his neck close in and tease at leaving marks before she lifts her head and appraises him with the sliver of a smile. Her fingernails sketch sharp pink trails down his arms, raising goosebumps in her wake, and shadowed blue stares back at her, unfazed. Hers are only little pains, glimpses into something aching, soothed away by the soft of her lips, but she feels his heartbeat pounding in response behind his ribs.
MacCready tightens his hands around her thighs, dragging her down against the hard weight of his cock trapped between them, watching the brief shift of pleasure cross her features. "I think you like when I'm trouble." His voice still teases even breathless, and he presses so temptingly sweet between her legs - with a tilt of her hips she could easily join them together and ride until she comes, and the fervent determination on his face very nearly goads her into it.
"What I like -" And River sinks her fingers through his hair, gripping wild tawny in her fist, "is making you behave." His smile finally twitches, shaken by the stern bite to her voice and her hips dragging slowly back, teasing the heat of her sex over his cock. A sound wrenches from deep in his chest, throat bobbing as he swallows, tension taut across his jaw. His pupils swell with black, his smirk forgotten in some fleeting fissure through that smug exterior, and she adores the very arrogance she scolds in him, but she loves slipping past it even more.
"Well…" he starts, and his voice comes out dry and parched. "Good luck with that." His right hand spans the soft planes of her stomach, gliding up between her breasts, his lips spreading back into a knowing smile as his fingers find her nipples. At the whirl of his thumb around first one and then the other, River drops her head back, heat winding through her like a coil. He takes the opening, hunting his free hand up the slope of her thigh. "Apparently I'm trouble." The pad of his thumb slides into place above her clit, hinting easy circles, slickened with her want. "'Course, you could always just… let me misbehave."
"It's dangerous even letting you talk," River chides, and grips her nails into his hands, pinning them above his shoulders and ignoring the hollow ache that follows the loss of his touch. "You never know when to stop."
MacCready grins, grazing his tongue across the point of a canine. "Then why don't you come shut me up?"
River voices a soft laugh, tilting her head at him. "Is that what you want, baby?"
Without a word, he lifts his hand from the bed and pops his thumb into his mouth, holding her gaze as he licks the taste of her from his finger. Shivers branch her nerves, phantom touches of his mouth between her thighs, of every time that ardent, starving mouth has devoured her before.
"Tell me, baby." She toys her thumb along his lips, humming when he presses a kiss to her fingertip. "Tell me what you want, or you get nothing."
His mouth twists into a smirk. "I want to taste you," he says slowly against her thumb, each syllable deliberate, defiant even when he listens. Then his tongue drags the pad of her finger, and she pulls her hand away, punishing her nails into his hips until he hisses.
"How badly, cariño?" she coaxes him, lullaby-sweet.
The teeth are clenched behind his lips when he sighs, hips tensing beneath her, reminding her of his cock waiting thick and heavy between her thighs, as if she could ever forget. "Starving for you," he breathes, voice strained like all the rest of him.
River leads his hands back to her hips, waiting to feel the secure wrap of his grip before she braces her palms at his chest and swings up onto her knees. "And where do you want me?" she asks. The question feels airy and weak on her tongue, but MacCready is already yanking her closer, guiding her knees over his shoulders, lifting her into place with a swiftness that almost steals her breath. She grabs the headboard for support, dropping a glance at his satisfied smile between her knees, no ounce of smugness, just a blaze of triumph in his eyes.
His mouth drags the slope of her thigh, lazy kisses first, then nibbling teeth, savoring his time now that he has her where he wants her. The flat of his tongue tracks higher, wonderful warmth at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, winding closer to where he's left her slick and wanting.
When her hand sinks into his hair again, he curls his arms around her legs and tugs her bodily against his mouth, meeting wet heat with a long, searching sweep of his tongue, and her breath rips from her in a rugged gasp. Her fingers pull and twist in his hair, blind instinct on the back of blissful tremors pooling through her from the tip of his tongue.
MacCready groans beneath her at the sting, or in approval; she can't make sense of his noises when he laves them open-mouthed against her skin, but his grip tightening greedily around her thighs seems to suggest the latter. She feels his tongue climb the folds of her sex, seeking, finding, circling down on her clit until her hips shudder above him, twitching away from the sudden, staggering touch.
River bites her lip, fighting the tremble that drops her spine. "Oh, fuck-!"
He curls his tongue and nurses sucking kisses, wringing her body into a tense curve above him. His fingers digging at her thighs lock her in place against his working mouth and tongue, so much, so firm, so hot, that burning sun between his lips, searing shapes that layer her with thriving heat, and every little tension in her body scatters out, weightless, ashes, dust. All that's left is the push-pull of rising pressure, and her thighs shaking around his head as he drives his tongue in tight, precision arcs.
His right hand squeezes at her thigh and shifts behind her, pausing to admire the curves of her ass before she feels his fingertips slide up beneath his mouth. They dance at pushing in, measured echoes of the strokes his tongue makes, and she aches to feel them sink and crook and fill her.
"RJ," she scolds him, hardly breath enough to form a whisper, but his voice rumbles against her, something like a laugh, like there it is, the point at which she breaks and starts to beg. "Oh, please, baby."
After a few more teasing sweeps of his fingers, he finally pushes in, easy with his tongue, tempering one slick, wet pleasure to another, and she's taught him far too much, because the expert way he strings her toward release has her gasping and shaken and teetering on that edge in a matter of dizzying moments.
He pumps his fingers in a determined rhythm, rolling pressure with the broad of his tongue, coaxing tremors up her body. Everything wrings tight and sharp, twinges feather-branching out through every nerve. Her breath breaks and stutters, and her hips roll closer to his mouth, arching into a firm lick from his tongue that forces her across that line. The world spins out of focus, swallowed up into the dark behind her eyelids as the bursts of blinding heat spiral through her. She hears herself whining his name, shuddering at the last twitches still scorching from his mouth between her thighs, before the warmth recedes and saps all the strength from her limbs, and she barely has the energy to yank him away with the fist still gripped in his hair.
MacCready flashes her a triumphant grin, his lips slick and swollen. She swipes her fingers lovingly across his mouth, smiling at the nibble of his teeth. His hair sweeps out in wild tufts, mussed by frantic hands, his eyes still dark with want as she catches her breath.
River's heart gives a sudden squeeze at the sight of him smiling up at her, wrecked and messy and more than satisfied with his work, the shining bright contentment in his gaze. "You are cute," she breathes fondly, leaning down to kiss the edge of his mouth. "Insufferably cute. And I very much like when you're trouble."
His laughter rings low and warm in response. "I know, angel," he promises, and lifts a hand to brush her hair over her shoulder, pressing his thumb briefly to the dimple above her smile. His other hand finds the silken heat between her thighs and drives two fingers deep in one fluid thrust, drawing a moan up her throat. "I like it, too."
