A/N: Here you go, Count Rabbit, just like you asked! Back to Biker!Thorin and thank you for the song prompt! Can I have my virtual box of cookies now? :P
Come As You Are by Nirvana
"You are such a prick!" You rush out of the joint, and the door slams behind you. Only to be kicked open again. He storms out, teeth bared in a snarl, massive hands clenched in fists. "Get back in there right now!"
You swirl on your heels, "Or what? I am not your thing, you tosser! You don't get to drive me like your bike!" He steps closer, towering over you, wide body clad in black leather. "Don't ball me up, woman!" "Oh don't give me your biker's tosh!" You point your finger at his long nose. "I am not your brainless bint!" He grabs your upper arm. "You might not be a bint, but you are exactly mine! Now get your backside into the joint!"
You jerk your arm out of his grip and start walking away. "If you leave now, don't come back!" You know him well, that is not a hundred per cent sure tone. And let's face, that is not your first row. Frankly having a row seems to be the thing you two mostly do. And then wild shagging afterwards. Works for you.
He predictably catches up with you and pushes you into the wall. His hot palm pushes up your thigh, under the leather mini, and without further ado he cups between your legs. Never fails with you. He catches your mouth, and the second hand jerks the collar of your new black sequin top. You really made an effort for him today.
"Careful, you wanker!" You twist your mouth from under his greedy lips, "It is a hundred quid." "I'll buy you another," he jerks it down and grabs your tit through the black lace of you bra. The fingers of his other hand slide under the knickers, and he dips them into you. You moan and bite his beard covered jaw. You are leaving your favourite part for a wee bit later.
He swirls you with surprising dexterity, fingers continuing to pump into you, and pushes you into the dark alley behind the joint. You momentarily remember that's where it all started, and you heat up more. You shove your hands into his hair and finally indulge yourself. You lower your mouth on his neck and give the tattoo a long, languished lick. He growls. He really appreciates that trick of yours.
The black flames of ink come from the between his shoulder blades, lick the shoulder and upper arm and sneak behind his right ear. That's where you mouth is going right now as well. And then you bite into his ear. Hard. He jerks his hand out of your fanny and slams you into the wall.
You try to fall on your knees, your hands already on the buckle of his leather trousers, but he presses your shoulder into the brickwall with one hand, batters your greedy hands away from him and jerks his fly open himself.
And then he picks you up, deftly pushes your knickers to the side, supporting you with one arm, and pushes into you with a long low growl. He keeps you suspended, your legs around his waist, one of his hands on your buttock, another pressed into the wall.
He puts his feet wider, for stability and greater momentum, and then he does that thing that drives you completely mental with lust every time. He tilts his head on a side and cracks his neck, as if before a laborious task, like an athlete before a jump. And then he pounds into you, your back hitting the wall, and you moan. And again, and again, and again…
You are pulling his hair, eyes closed, fully concentrated on the delicious massive cock thrusting into you, hitting your cervix, rubbing all the right spots. You are especially enjoying the string of dirty swearings he is snarling through his teeth. Sometimes when you actually listen to his mumbling, you catch some proprietary claims and even emotional jibber jabber there, something in the lines "only mine" and "my babe" in there. But right now you are more concerned with your impending orgasm.
And it is here. Boom! You cry out, clawing on the back of his head and neck. And then suddenly he sharply stops and starts gently rocking into you. Wow, that's new... You guess he is not that far gone as you thought. But at the moment all you can do is gratefully mewl and ride the wave. No other guy has ever made you come that hard! And it's not the size, although it is mental and how does it even fit? It is the overall determination to shag your brains out on everyday basis.
You recover slightly and open your eyes. The burning blue ones in front of you are surprisingly tender, and he presses a passionate kiss to your lips. And then gently rocks into you, and again, and again... And it's so new, so unusual, and so not you two, that you feel tears coming. And then he mumbles something into your lips. It sounds suspiciously like "I love you", and you sob. And come the second time. And he follows.
He is leaning into the wall, you are pressed between him and the bricks, your legs still around his hips, your arms wrapped around his neck. He is breathing heavily, his hot exhales tickling your neck. "What were we fighting about?" You ask absent-mindedly into the blue sky.
"That scouser was staring at you, and you smiled to him." You scratch him behind ear. "Plonker! You are so thick. I was smiling to the hasher, wanted to get our order faster." He chuckles into your neck and murmurs, "And now we didn't get any food..." "We can still go back, I'm sure your mates looked after your grub."
He carefully lowers you on the ground, and you sway. You shimmy your hips and fix your clothes. "Sod with the food, can we go home? I want a bath. I am sore and sticky." He leans in and gives you a tender kiss. "Whatever you want, love."