Fight Me: A fic about two characters fighting (against each other or side-by-side)
A/N: Not so much a fight as a battle of wills, inspired by a conversation with Nicola Walker back in April about the beard Peter was sporting for his drama 'Undeniable'. Also, someone in the 3W8L facebook group wondered if F would be for 'Fuck Me', which inspired the M-ratedness of this piece.
Ruth pulled away from Harry's kiss and sat back on the sofa. "I'm sorry Harry but the beard has to go!"
He'd grown it for an undercover operation which had ended two weeks ago and he hadn't shown any desire to get rid of it. Ruth had been happy to indulge him at first, but was now getting tired of the constant scratchiness and 'beard burn' on her face and in other, more intimate places.
"I thought you said you liked it?" Harry pouted.
"I did but…"
"You said it made me look younger and ruggedly handsome."
Ruth wracked her brain; did she say that? Oh yes, before the operation, when he was unsure about it and she was trying to buck him up. "Well yes, but I only said that to…
"You even said it made my lips much more kissable," he smirked, eyes sparkling. He was challenging her now; this was a game to him. Well if that was the way he wanted to play it. It was now Ruth vs the beard. Winner takes all.
"I suppose it frames them nicely, but they hide your pout."
"I do no pout."
"You do. But most of all, it's impractical. It's…. it's scratchy!"
"Scratchy?"
"Yes, against my skin when you kiss me and... y'know…" Harry raised his eyebrow "…other things," blushed Ruth.
"After the things we've done, how you can be embarrassed to talk about it is beyond me," quipped Harry.
"You're getting off the point. The beard has to go."
"And if I decide to keep it?"
Ruth played what she viewed as her trump card. "Then there will be no sex until you shave it off."
"You're not serious?"
Ruth crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh I'm serious Harry. Until the beard goes, there will be no more sex."
Harry's face hardened slightly. "Fine. Let's do this. But you should know," he whispered, leaning in close, "I fully intend to win. I will break you Ruth and the beard will stay."
Ruth grinned. He was so sure of himself… bordering on cocky. "You really think you're that irresistible?"
"I know I am," he replied, holding out his hand for Ruth shake to confirm their deal. She took it and they shook firmly, before Harry pulled her towards him and pressed his lips over hers. It was wonderful; kissing Harry always was, and Ruth began to relax into his embrace. For a fleeting moment she considered throwing in the towel; he was irresistible. But then she felt the scratching of his beard and her resolve hardened. There was no way she was losing to a beard.
The next few days were torture for both of them. Harry had tried on numerous occasions to seduce Ruth, at one point even sauntering out of their en-suite completely naked and hard for her; a sight that Ruth had found extremely hard to resist.
She hadn't been innocent either; she had worn shorter skirts and tighter tops to work… not short or tight enough to draw attention from the rest of the team, but enough to drive Harry crazy. She also snuggled up to him a lot more when they were alone at home, her hand rubbing teasing circles on his thigh.
"God Ruth, I want you," he'd growled on Wednesday evening, after pulling back from a particularly heavy snogging session on the sofa. "I don't know how much longer I can take this."
"Well you know what you have to do," Ruth had replied, her voice cool and steady, the complete antithesis of how she'd felt inside. With that, she'd stood and gathered up their dinner plates that had been left on the coffee table, before walking out of the room, leaving Harry to groan in frustration .
Ruth smiled in satisfaction at the sound. A few more days and he'd break; she was sure of it.
But he didn't and by Friday both she and Harry were so sexually frustrated that they were each ready to capitulate to the other; although neither were keen to be the first to back down.
But Ruth eventually decided she couldn't take it anymore. She arrived home before Harry that night; he had been summoned to Whitehall by the Home Secretary, and set her plan into action. She quickly showered and styled her hair, before dressing in her sexiest nightwear; a black negligée and getting into bed to wait for him. She would have him tonight, even if it meant losing the bet.
She hadn't planned on him being so late though and before long, the tiring week, both at work and at home, got the better of her and she dozed off.
She awoke sometime later to the sound of running water in the en suite. Harry was home. She rose from bed and, shrugging on her satin robe, entered the bathroom. She found Harry standing in front of the sink, wearing only a towel and a face full of shaving foam.
"Admitting defeat?" she asked with a raise of her eyebrow.
Harry held up the razor. "Merely for the good of the country. It's not good to have the head of counter-terrorism in a state of nervous exhaustion because he isn't getting any sex." He took in her attire; paying particular interest to where her robe was falling off her shoulder, revealing the negligee underneath. "Although it seems I may not need to now."
Ruth smirked and snatched the razor from him. She was not giving up when she was so close to victory. She lifted it slowly to his face and, with a reluctant nod of agreement from Harry, she began to shave him. Slowly, her Harry was revealed once more to her as the beard disappeared. She turned a little to wash the razor before going back into shaving him.
He noticed her robe slipping as she continued her deft movements and he couldn't take his eyes off her. "Stop squirming," she ordered. Harry shrugged and let her continue. She was almost done when he could take it no more. He leaned in and kissed her passionately. She returned his kiss eagerly, her tongue finding comfort in the depths of his mouth.
Without breaking the kiss, Harry took away the razor and backed her up against the nearest wall; their kiss intensifying in the process. He yanked open her robe and dipped his head to her chest, kissing the mounds of her breasts. He pulled the neckline down to expose her nipples and began sucking and licking.
Ruth, breathing heavily from Harry's ministrations, reached down for the towel wrapped around his waist, revealing his impressive erection. "Oh God, Harry; I need you!" she panted as she stroked him gently.
Harry pulled her knickers to the side, intending to prepare her for his entry, but he found she was already wet for him. He lifted her, his hands on her bum and she in turn wrapped her legs around him for support. Pinning her arms against the wall above her head, he slid slowly inside her, feeling the warmth of her body as she gladly accepted him. Her eyes slipped closed and she bit her lip as pleasure overtook her.
"Oh god, Harry!" she uttered.
Harry began thrusting and soon they were both covered in a light sheen of sweat; their moans filling the small room. It wasn't long before they before they were both approaching completion. Ruth urged Harry to move faster and he happily complied. Ruth moaned as she tumbled over the edge. Harry gave several quick, deep thrusts and, moments later, reached his own end.
Harry released Ruth's arms and she draped them round his neck and rested her head against his as their breathing slowed.
"Enjoy that?" Harry asked, a slight smirk on his face.
"Mmm-hmm. And so much better without the beard," she replied, cheekily as Harry lowered her gently to the floor.
"Not that it's all gone yet; you missed a spot," Harry accused, rubbing the small patch of hair on his left jaw bone.
"And who's fault was that," she countered.
"Hmm," huffed Harry. "I could blame that on you too; withholding sex was a cruel tactic."
"Worked though didn't it? I won. And if you never know, if you finish the job, there might be another reward for you," she whispered seductively as she sashayed into bedroom, her hips swaying suggestively.