A/N: I'm beyond sorry for this long hiatus I've put you all through. Life was just so busy. I hope maybe I can make up for it with some smut :)

Huge thanks to my beta for volunteering to proofread this for me!


Prompt #27: Couch - "Yup, the function is still great."

Word count: 1,131


He glances sideways at her, grinning softly when she turns her head to the screen too quickly. Busted, he thinks. These movie nights have become a sort of a habit that he really doesn't mind. Old classics, action classics, sometimes they even go for a rom-com if they feel like it. But this time, whenever he glances her way, he catches her staring—but not at the tv. At him. "You like the movie?" The question is innocent enough.

She nods absentmindedly, wondering if this is his way of exposing her, as in he knows she hasn't been watching the movie for the past half an hour. "It's great," she mumbles, cheeks burning red.

"Exactly how many times do you stare at me instead of watching the tv?"

"A lot," she admits, grinning back. "What can I say. It's a nice view."

The Die Hard marathon is easily forgotten, when he pulls her on his lap, crushing their lips together. His tongue slips inside her mouth. Gentle. Demanding. Hungry. Every time he kisses her like this, she understands why there have been so many songs written about this. Because if she had to choose one thing to do for the rest of her life, it would be this.

She straddles him—one hand on his chest for balance, while the other grabs the back of his head, gripping his hair to pull him closer. This is what she has been thinking about doing for the past fifteen minutes—imagining his mouth on hers. And if her heart was any weaker, it would have exploded by now.

Her hips move involuntarily, grinding against his crotch, making the oversized t-shirt she's wearing slide up her back. It's because of that, she thinks, and the moan he lets out, that their make out sessions usually end up in the bedroom.

Inhaling sharply when she comes up for air, she gets lost in the scent of himjusta mixture of his shaving cream, oranges and a scent that is uniquely him. He tastes like popcorn and beer, and she dives back in, loving how his hand is resting on her bare leg, or how his skin is slightly flushed from the heat.

Kissing him is like the most intoxicating drug she's ever tried. And she's tried many in a very non-metaphorical way. She doesn't even mind his stubble rubbing her skin, or the cramp in her neck, because this is everything.

Then, as if on cue to ruin her evening, her phone rings.

She lets out a groan of displeasure, pulling away from his face to reach for the electronic device that she actually wants to throw out of the window. "It's Antonio," she murmurs, scrunching her nose, because Dawson almost never calls. She presses the answer button. "Hey, Tony. What's up?" Letting out a non-committal hum, she realizes that Jay's hands have wandered off, and he's slipped one underneath her shirt—and put her lack of a bra to a good use.

His skilled fingers are tracing up and down her skin, and she's trying to focus on the thing Dawson is so intent on discussing at this bad moment. But how can she, when Jay's hand is on her breasts, fondling softly, making her want to let out a moan.

"Yeah, no, I'm here." He smirks knowingly at that, realizing he's on the right path.

She tries to push him away, to stop his hands from pleasuring her in the most inopportune moment, but it only makes it worse. He pulls her down against him, so she can feel how hard he is for her, and it nearly causes her to combust.

Meanwhile she is trying to listen to something Antonio is saying, and preferably not moan into the speaker. But Jay's mouth lands on her neck, pressing his lips gently against the sensitive skin. It sets her ablaze with need, and makes her melt in his arms.

He suckles and scrapes the skin with his teeth and does just about everything he can think of to make the need bubble up inside of her until it becomes unbearable. And then, when she thinks she's made it through the most she can, he lifts his hips up and grinds against her, which granted isn't hard, because she's still straddling him.

"Yeah, sounds good. I'm sorry, Dawson, but I actually gotta go now. Yeah, bye."

He smirks up at her, knowing she's too far gone, when she starts pulling at the waistband of his sweats erratically. His fingers slip underneath the cotton fabric of her underwear, teasing out a throaty moan. Meanwhile, she finally manages to push down his pants, and is now desperately trying to get him on the same page.

How they manage to get rid of their underwear is beyond her, but all she knows is that she needs him, and he's taking his sweet time.

"Jay, now. Now!" she urges him, right before he dips her into the couch, aligning himself to slip inside of her, as if there is no hurry. He knows perfectly well he's got her on her knees, begging, and takes pleasure in having that power. So he sets a slow pace, setting aside all of her efforts to speed him up, as he builds the pleasure inside of her, slowly, deliberately with every thrust.

She stops fighting the slow rhythm, embracing it instead, meeting his every thrust with her hips, knowing that he'll get her there, fast or slow. Her body arches against the couch in anticipation of a climax, and then she's flying in his arms, and she's screaming his name so loud, she's certain the neighbours will complain.

And a minute later, he's right there with her, collapsing on top of her with ragged breaths.

"I'm seeing stars," she mumbles, making him chuckle on top of her.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She rolls her eyes, but gives him the compliment, because he just gave her an orgasm that has got to be in the top five. Her hand slaps his butt playfully, but also to make him roll off before she suffocates.

"Yup, still great function." As he recovers, he smirks down at her flushed body and her sparkling eyes, knowing he'd never love another person this much. And it's just a moment after, when he feels vulnerable and cheesy and empty—until she cuddles into him, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek that reminds him just how special what they have is.

And it's the one thing he would go down fighting for.

But right now, the only thing he needs to fight for, is gathering enough energy to pick her limp body up, so he can carry her to the bedroom and do it all over again.