POV: Danse
It took a moment for my heart to return to its regular rhythms, and with Quinn so close, I wasn't sure that it was so regular after all. He laid sprawled against my chest, his frame glistening with the moisture of perspiration from our lovemaking. My body beneath him was perfectly still, and my arms around him held him tight - the corded muscles spilled tension and need, and it was the vision of that alone that was a denotation to the fact that I was nowhere near finished.
I wasn't sure that either of us were going to come out of this war that we were staring with Arthur Maxon alive, and I wanted to make sure that I had my fill of the sacchariferous man.
I knew, though, that no matter how many times I tasted his lips... I was never going to have enough of Quinn, or his scorching kisses that had breathed life into my very veins. He touched me, blazen and bolden like there was no tomorrow to count on. I touched him, in turn, like a perfect promise that I would make sure we had another day. My heart was liquid steel, because I knew that I would fight Maxon - I would do everything that I could to make sure that Quinn and I had a future. That the Commonwealth had a future. I wanted the world to be a place that I could live, that I could thrive and enjoy my life with the man who laid so perfectly atop me.
I would fight Arthur Maxon, because he'd already taken too much away, and I wasn't going to let him do the same with the future that seemed so intangible right now for my lover and myself.
"Quinn..." My voice was a soft ache when I spoke, and I threaded my fingers through the black strands of his hair. Though he kept the sides extremely short, the top was getting long enough that it was spilling easily into his gaze. The dampened strands clung to his forehead as I brushed them back, and he opened green eyes with a languid laze that was tempting in and of itself. He looked like sex made human, temptation given form and grace. His eyes burned like emeralds, liquid green fire that could scorch the soul and strip you of all that you were... blinding flame that could make you a new man. A better man.
"Hmmm?" A dark brow arched, but he nuzzled gently against the calloused palm that cupped his cheek. I enjoyed the feel of his scruffy facial hair against my skin for a moment before drawing him close to press my lips against his. I was absorbed in the velvet feel of his pout, the soft lines that his tongue ran along the roof of my mouth, as though he was giving me the very secrets of the Universe in a scripture that I couldn't decipher. After a moment, my breath came out soft and shaking.
"Let's move upstairs." Thick, thready, a deep rumble. My voice was lower and full of heat, and I could feel Quinn's body react to the request. His prick gave the slightest jump. I knew that it would take him a bit longer to recover than myself - my synthetic components seemed to give me a penchant for endurance. In my arms, Quinn gave an anticipatory shiver.
"All right." I didn't give him a chance to push himself from my frame. Instead, I shifted upward, my arms shifting beneath his knees and his shoulders. I picked him up, bridal style, and he let out a mixture of shout and laughter. His arms wrapped around my neck instantly, and I took just a moment to enjoy the sensation of it; holding him in my arms and his arms holding me back just as tight.
I had endeavored to understand the pre-war era as best I could, and I knew that there were implications of this particular stance, where Quinn was from. I wondered if it evoked correlating thoughts within him - marriage, a life where we could have known peace and happiness. For just a moment, I could see it. The decayed and ruined homes that we'd entered a hundred times springing to life, with vibrancy and color - Quinn soft and sweet beneath clean sheets, smelling of a fresh shower. Children laughing... the air fresh. No fear, no threats.
Just... simplicity.
"Danse?" Quinn seemed to notice that my mind was drifting away, and I turned my gaze back to him instantly. I didn't know what depths my brown hues held, but it seemed to elicit a reaction from him. He leaned closer, his lips finding the pulse of my neck and closing around it. The warmth of his mouth, the soft sting of his teeth clamping down lightly spurred me forward. I marched us up the stairs, my arms hardly feeling the strain of his weight. The sheets of the bed were still rumpled from when we'd made love the first time, and my libido felt the provocation of the site. It was visceral, burning through me... but my body wanted something different.
There was a part of me that was tempted to throw him to those sheets and repeat what had happened before. But more than that, there was a part of me that wanted to feel Quinn. To do that, I'd need to get him ready for another round. I dropped him carefully to the sheets and crawled atop him. His skin was flushed, the sun-kissed tone a shade darker - his body had a soft sheen of sweat to it from our earlier exertions, and when I dipped my head down to kiss gently at his neck, I could taste the salty flavor of it.
"Mmm, you're already up for round two, aren't you?" He didn't sound surprised, but instead impressed - admiring, perhaps. I let a low, masculine chuckle spill from my chest.
"Don't worry, soldier. I'm sure I can get you up to the task, too." My teeth grazed at the hollow of his neck, working up so that I could swipe my tongue in a hot line to the curve of his ear. He let out a small sound, his body arching upward. His legs spread for me, wrapping around my frame. It would have been so easy then and there to shift my hips and take him, claim him... but it wasn't what i wanted.
It wasn't what my body was craving - Quinn had taught me, more than anyone else, that sometimes we had to give into those libidinous desires. The libertine beneath me was going to have to withstand my careful ministrations until I was ready for him.
Until he was ready for me.
"Lube?" My question was soft, eager, and heated. Dark lashes fluttered like a half moon crescents on his cheeks for a moment, but his hand moved with a surety, his fingers fishing at the cabinet beside the bed and coming back with a small container. The fact that he had it, prepared and ready for us made my stomach crawl and squirm. He'd stocked this room with thoughts of two bodies writhing together in thought. I took the lubrication from him with smooth fingers, pulling the top off of the container and letting my fingers dip into it. I was careful to only take a fourth - only enough for my digits. I had other plans for the container - he just didn't need to know that as of yet.
I was careful to place the small jar to the side before continuing with my slow assault of Paladin Quinn's body. My mouth latched to the lobe of his ear, teeth worrying it gently. My hand, in turn, trailed downward - lube slicked fingers played against his already half-mast dick for just a moment, but I dipped lower. I worked my digits against the tight ring of muscle that led to his core like I would a suit of power armor. All careful circuits and connections - things that needed my delicate and precise attention, if I wanted the power armor to serve me at full efficiency. Quinn was that suit of armor, and I wanted to tune him up until he functioned at maximum capacity.
There was no protest when I pressed one finger against that tight ring, only eager need. His hips worked upward, gyration meeting the propulsion of my fingers so that there was only a moment of resistance. Quinn cried out, keening and moaning against the extremity that delved into his inner chassis. I let the digit thrust deep, diving into the knuckle before hooking, rocking and working against the cluster of nerves that brought his back arching up off of the mattress. He let out a whimper, and that cry held my name in its depths. I growled against his skin in return - my mouth chased across his jawline, catching his lower lip between my teeth. My other hand came up, palm flat to press against the lean-muscled planes of his torso. I held him against the mattress and worked my finger slowly, until he was a writhing, squirming mass of need beneath me. Only when he called my name out in protest of my slow assault did I let another finger slip upward to join its brother.
"Are you trying to kill me?" he gasped the words out, but there was no bite to them. His body tried to move in time with my fingers, but my hand on his waist kept his hips from working upward to meet my slow assault - I wasn't going to let him take control of the situation. I wasn't going to allow him to lure me from my path, like a willothewisp, all green flame and promises.
I wanted this just as I saw it in my head, and my devilish lover was just greedy enough that he'd try to sway me from that decision if I allowed him to.
"Only a little." My voice was a soft tease, all heat and unfamiliarity to me. He made me bold, when I'd never been brazen before. I knew that I was awkward in most situations, and stern in the best. I'd only opened up like this to one other man before Quinn... and Cutler had died before I could truly understand the depths of the feelings that I had for him. The fact that Quinn and I were on the brink of some great cliff that could either plunge us over the edge of divinity or doom was not lost to me - I knew that we would make it, in the only way that an unknown future could truly be discerned. It was hope alone, and faith in the strength of who we were, what we were.
It was hope in the promise of our love, and in the knowledge that what we were doing was the right thing. Maxon was wrong.
Maxon was wrong.
Quinn leaned back beneath my fingers then, his hips the only part of him that he seemed unable to control. They still worked against my fingers, and I crooked the digits languidly into his heat, stroking upward and playing against the wall of his insides, fingers scissoring against the bundle of nerves until his prick was hard and dripping precum, sweet pearls of proof at how well I was doing my job.
He was gasping now, and it was my name in soft pants that fell from his tongue like poetry. "Danse... please... stop... t-teasing me." It was a moan, and his chest rose and fell with such voracity for my tongue that I was worried he would faint. "Can't take much more of this, babe." His voice was blistering, leaving paths of scalding need across my nerves. My hand only pressed harder against his torso in response.
"Danse!" Quinn shouted this time, and my fingers dove hard inside of him, staying buried in his depths this time. I'd pulled back from his lips some time ago, so that I could watch the way that his face contorted in need and desire, and to see it so strained now that his eyes were dilated pupils with only the slightest ring of green, like viridian etched around onyx.
"Shhh, Quinn." My voice rumbled. I dipped my head down, licking a low line along his neck and then diving my head to nuzzle at the hollow of his throat. "Are you burning?"
"Like molten metal." He grunted the words out, and I let my fingers slide slowly from his heat. He felt molten.
It felt strange, speaking to him - we'd been so caught up in our actions before, a whirlwind of wanton desire. Now, I stoked the flame like coals blowing life into a great fire. "How much do you want me?"
"Fuck." His eyes clenched shut tight at my words, and he seemed incapable of answering me.
Blood threatened to rush to my face, but seeing him squirming beneath me, it was all pumping south. I let my voice spill into a tone of command - to the Paladin that I had once been. I could see the way that it affected him; his eyes were heavy lidded, his breath coming in sharper now than before. His fought against me, his hips trying to raise, his legs wrapping around my torso and pulling me forward. I shifted with it, my pelvis angling down. Instead of pressing the tip of my length to his stretched entrance, I worked forward so that our pricks pressed together. My broad palm spilled forward, wrapping around both lengths and giving a hard pump.
Quinn cried out beneath me as though he'd never felt anything so sinfully delicious in his entire life. I let my fingers work against our lengths for a moment, until my own frame was shivering above him in need. He was ready - we were both aching for it. But...
"I said," I stroked along our lengths once more, hard. My fingers pulled upward, against the flared heads that joined and spilled pearls of begging liquid. Pre-cum slickened my palm, and made him whimper when I slicked it back his length. "How much do you want me?"
"Fuck. D-Danse." His eyes clenched tight again, and his entire body was one fine trembling pulse beneath me. his breath came in sharp, quick gasps that barely gave him purchase to speak. Somehow, he managed. "So fucking much. Please?" And then, sharp, punctuating each breath that he took. "Please. Please."
I couldn't wait any longer.
I pulled back from him, my fingers finding the jar that I'd set aside earlier. When I unscrewd the cap, there were nearly tears of relief in his eyes.
"Yes, please." But my fingers that dipped into the container didn't go to my length - instead, they slicked forward, working along his cock until he was glistening with lube. I spilled forward, my arms wrapping around him and flipping him in a sudden motion. He was atop me, his slicked cock streaking petroleum against my taut stomach.
"Fuck me." My voice was a hard command, but it was full of the liquid heat of need and desire. It jolted him like a physical thing, made him whimper again, gasp in desire. His cock pulsed in front of me, twitching and jerking at the tone of my voice. I'd never asked him for this, but the prospect of it wasn't met with displeasure - quite the opposite, in fact.
"Yes, sir." Quinn's voice was a purr when he spoke.
A low moan caught in the back of my throat, because he knelt between my legs like a good soldier. His hands smoothed up and along my thighs, begging them to part without saying a word. I happily complied to the silent urging, and was rewarded with the sight of Quinn bringing his fingers to rock along his lube-slicked-prick until the digits glistened.
It only took them a moment to disappear between us, and I felt their warmth instantly find the pucker between my cheeks. He gave a small stroke, drawing another low sound from my chest, vibrating through me so that I knew he could feel it.
The tips of his fingers teased at my entrance, and there was a moment of spark in his green eyes that made him look like nothing less than a puckish devil. He grinned softly at me, playing again at my center without actually penetrating the tight ring of muscles that needed his touch.
"Quinn..." Dark brows knit together, but I couldn't actually frown at him. If anything, it was tit for tat. However, his eyes dropped in a falsetto demur fashion, and his lower lip fell into a pout. "Don't tease, soldier." My voice came back firm, and I saw another slow shiver spill down the length of his spine at the way that I spoke. My pseudo command over him seemed to be something that he desired, craved even. I stored the information away for a later date, arching my hips up instead, a physical demand to go along with my verbal order. In perfect response, the longest of his digits slid past my defenses and spilled inside of my core. I growled out at the pleasure of it, my body screaming in half-protest of the sudden motion. However, his fingers were as skilled at playing my body as they were disassembling and reassembling his pistol for a cleaning. He worked that digit for just a moment, until a low murmur of pleasure was pouring at a constant rate from my chest.
After a moment, his second digit joined into the fray - as it slid home, he leaned forward and caught my mouth. "Like this?" He crooked those slender digits, working against me in the same way that I'd teased him earlier. I nodded in affirmation, but answered him with the hungry press of my mouth, the probing of my tongue that demanded he split his pout for me so that I could taste the soft velvet of his own in turn. His fingers plunged into me once, twice, thrice more, and then the unwelcome sensation of being empty poured over me. I knew, however, that it would be quickly replaced - and Quinn did not disappoint.
I felt the flared tip of his head, slicked with lubrication and pre-cum. It hesitated at my entrance for just a moment. His hands came forward, one moving to the side of my head and the other sliding along my thigh to catch beneath my knee. He lifted my leg this way, drawing it upward until my need was nearly against his chest - spreading me wide.
"Ready?"
"Affirmative." Yes, please. Now.
He bit his lower lip, and I was nearly jealous of the motion - I wanted to catch that pout between my teeth and demand that he move. Now. I didn't have to, however, because his hips worked forward and his flared head pushed past the ring of muscle and into the tight confines of my ass before plunging into my depths. He moved in a fluid motion that tore a cry of pleasure from my throat - though he worked slow, careful, he didn't stop until he was completely encased, our bodies pressed tight to one another and the warmth of him radiating through me. I felt so full, so fucking perfect in that moment. Quinn vibrated above me, his eyes closed, his body a trembling pulse of pleasure. I could feel more core squeeze tight around him, my body demanding without words that he move. I felt, in that moment, that if he didn't I would burn from the inside out until there was nothing left of me but ashes.
One hand spilled greedy to his hip, fingers chasing upward to squeeze at the plump fullness of his ass. Digits dug in, and with a simple squeezing prompt, Quinn began to move. We both rode on the same heights of need to make this moment matter, to make it count, to make it burn into our very souls. If we died within the next few days, what we did in this bed would forever be scorched into the earth as a permanent mark of our passion.
With my free hand, I stretched my fingers up, digging into his hair and jerking his head sharp downward, so that the next moan that spilled from my chest was caught and fed into the softness of his lips and the hot depths of his mouth.
I fed my desperation and need into that kiss, all teeth and tongue and growls of pleasure and desire - in response, his hips snapped forward hard. I nearly screamed into his mouth, and the hand the hitched my knee upward spilled the limb even further, until it was nearly pressed to his collarbone, splayed upward between us so that I could taste the press of his mouth. His hips were relentless, and I was like helpless to do anything other than writhe and rock my body in tandem with his assault. I fought with the need to close my eyes - brown hues were greedy for the sight of him. His own lids were closed, and when he pulled back from our kiss his full lips were bruised and full from our kisses. His brows were sharp, drawn together, with sweat chasing along their curve... and his jaw, sharp enough to cut glass, was held taut with the way that he concentrated on the fluidity of his motion. His hips snapped forward hard, and hard again... and I could barely catch breath into my lungs to let out another low growl of pleasure.
"Harder," the breathe formed into a word, and Quinn seemed only too happy to comply. His free hand came forward, wrapping behind my neck to give him more purchase for the motion that he fell into... and then he was nothing but that movement. We were liquid fluidity and the sound of flesh slapping flesh - we were fucking and passion, and we had both teased each other to such edges that I knew that it wouldn't last half as long as I wanted.
But it didn't matter, because the moment was perfect. Liquid heat was pooling in the bit of my stomach, threatening to spill over at any moment - and it was the sudden sight of Quinn's eyes snapping wide that pushed me over the edge. The thick head of him raked again over the sensitive bundle of nerves that was my prostate gland, and those green hues burned into my soul. They spoke litanies of his emotion for me - deep burning love that rode the wings of desperation and need, the need to survive, the need to be with me, always. He didn't have to say anything. I could feel it, just from the look that he gave me... and that look, that look and his cried pleasure of my name was all that I needed.
Orgasm ripped through me, tearing his name roughly from my throat - I came hard, liquid ropes of seed spilling up to spatter against my lifted knee, his chest, to fall in thick drops back against my own flesh. My body clenched hard around him, my frame rising up and threatening to rip my knee from his grip. He bore down on me, and I felt his hips work against me hard - once, twice, thrice, grinding and pouring over that sensitive cluster of nerves again and again until I was screaming beneath him.
His name turned into words - three words. The only words.
"I love you." Gasped through orgasm, so ragged that he shouldn't have had the capability to understand me. My hands clung to him, blunt nails biting into his ass cheek, greedy digits dragging him down for another scorching kiss - and it was all that he needed. His head fell back, his eyes boring into my own... and I felt the liquid heat of his pleasure spill and paint my inner sanctum, hard and thick enough that I felt it spatter between my cheeks to stain the sheets beneath us.
"Fuck... fuck, fuck." His words were hot, emphatic, burning. His hips worked hard, two more snaps that left him buried deep inside of me and collapsing against me. Only then did he let my knee go. Only then did he fall into my frame, his arms wrapping tight around me and his nose moving to skim my throat before he settled completely against me. For a moment, he lay there, a quivering mass of satisfaction... and then his lips found the thundering pulse of my throat, and I heard his voice come out in a soft murmur. "Mmm... love you, too..." And then I felt his lips quirk into a impish grin, and he added softly, "Sir."
My arms tightened around him, and I pulled him closer to my chest. My pulse was a hard thrum, and I could feel the beating of his heart in time with it. There were still many hours til morning, and I was voracious for the sensation of our passion... but above me, in my arms, Quinn was sweetly still, and the upturn of his lips told me that he was content...
And for now... just for now... that was more than enough. My body tingled with our combined pleasure, my core thick and filled with his spunk. With Quinn nuzzling my throat and murmuring soft litanies of love, I couldn't worry about tomorrow. Not just yet - for now, just for now... it was just the man in my arms, the man that I loved.
And that was more than enough for me.