Sex was about scratching an itch.
Relationships were messy and just complicated things.
Other people didn't understand certain (illicit and illegal) aspects of their lives.
One night stands were good, even better if names weren't exchanged.
Leave before the other person wakes up.
Other people are weird.
These were some of the rules that had governed Parker's social interactions in the past. She didn't do romantic relationships. They weren't her thing and frankly, she didn't see the point in them. On the rare occasion when she decided that she wanted sex, she went out and found someone at a bar. It wasn't hard and they were usually drunk enough not to notice her leaving.
This thing with Eliot was completely outside her realm of experience. When she woke, the early morning light streaming in through the huge windows, after a night of really fun sex (and damn, she wanted to know where Eliot had learned to do that thing with his tongue. She had met one of his past girlfriends, Aimee, on the job with the killer horses, and wondered if it would be strange if she called her and asked about the tongue thing. It sounded like something Sophie would probably discourage.), Eliot was asleep behind her, his arm draped over her waist, heavy, tan and warm.
I don't feel trapped, she thought in surprise, looking at the muscular forearm, silver and turquoise bracelets and broad hand. Normally, she didn't really like too much physical proximity, but she found herself feeling pretty good about it at this very particular moment. She could feel his breath, soft against the back of her neck and his body, lined up against her own, firm muscle under soft skin.
With a smile, she relaxed and let her eyes close, thinking of what had happened the night before.
They had barely closed (and locked, cause they were still paranoid thieves, after all) the door when Parker stopped and pressed herself to him, anticipation in every line of her body. Eliot met her lips with his own and, not for the first time, she found herself enjoying the lack of height difference between them. He seemed surprisingly yielding, requesting her attention and acceptance, capturing it with his care. She gave in willingly, letting him take control and direct their interaction. His hands slid down her ribcage, ruffling her shirt, to her hips and around to her backside. He found purchase on her thighs and simply lifted, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist.
Carrying her, he walked her deeper into the room, towards the huge bed, never relinquishing his hold on her lips. Her breath hitched as he gently set her down on the floor in front of the bed. Pulling back, their eyes met and something electric passed between them.
"Eliot," she breathed, looking deep into his eyes, noting that only a slim ring of blue was visible around his pupils.
"Parker," he rumbled, tongue peeking out as he wet his lips.
And just like that, the small modicum of control she had snapped.
She pulled him close and fell back onto the bed recapturing his lips with hers, rough and primal. Her fierceness and passion matched his own usual approach to things, demanded he obey her, cede to her demands and follow her lead. As he mouthed her neck hungrily, she gasped silently and arched towards him, sucking in a breath as one of his hands worked it's way under her shirt, bare skin on bare skin. The new sensation made her moan with need and frantically tug her shirt up and throw out of the way. But she wanted more, so she grabbed his flannel shirt and jerked it open, buttons scattering all over the room, never to be found again. Something dark flashed in his eyes before he shucked both the ruined flannel and T-shirt, then covered her body with his. Mapping a trail down from her neck with his tongue, he lowered his head to her breast, lavishing his mouth on one nipple, drawing it in and suckling, while stroking the other. She writhed beneath him, thoughts fleeing, quickly replaced with need and sensations.
He trailed his tongue (hot, wet and tingle inducing) across her overheated skin, lower and lower until she couldn't stand it anymore and her fingers scrambled for the buttons on his jeans. She wanted to feel him against her, skin on skin, a comfort she seldom desired or indulged in. She made quick work of freeing him, nimble hands more than a match for the now snug denim. His hands slid to the waistband of her own pants, eyes darting up to smile at hers as he noted the lack of underwear, and he dragged them slowly, sensually down her legs, blunt nails scraping lightly in their wake. She trembled as her blood burned and her toes curled in anticipation.
Eliot drew back for a moment, his eyes roaming across her body and savoring the feel of her against him. She quivered beneath him, recognizing the desire washing through him as mirroring her own. He lowered his head to the flat plane of her stomach, eyes locked on her own as he ghosted lingering kisses on every inch of her now exposed skin. Her hands rose to his head and fisted in his hair (she found that she really, really liked being able to wind her fingers in the long strands and tug gently) and she felt his warm breath between her legs. She wanted to growl in frustration or even use his hair to pull him into place as he made no move to use his mouth where she really wanted it. Instead, he moved to the inside of her thighs, strong, skilled fingers and tongue seemingly everywhere at once. The sensations were a blessed torment and, as she finally decided she really needed to force him where she wanted, he slid one blunt finger inside her and all complaints slipped from her mind. She reacted strongly, pushing into his hand in order to draw him deeper, rolling her hips when he added another finger and began to slowly pump them in and out.
Allowing herself to surrender to the pleasure rippling through her body, she languidly moved with him, writhing on the comforter as he added his tongue to encourage her rapidly building pleasure. Circling her clit with the tip of her tongue, he never touched, and she shuddered and twitched anytime it got too near. Wordlessly, she begged him to stop the torture, to make her loose control and, after a moment, she realized the soft gasps and cries she was hearing were coming from her own mouth. In response, he latched his mouth onto that sensitive nub and sucked gently, his teeth worrying almost imperceptibly, soft but present. Her body spasmed with the intensity of her orgasm and she shuddered, body tightening and relaxing as he coaxed her through the aftershocks.
After several long moments, she opened her glazed, unfocused eyes and found Eliot above her, resting on his elbows, wide eyes noting every nuance of emotion as they played across her face. When she grinned, he nudged her legs further apart, entering her slowly and she gasped quietly as he moved within her. He moaned faintly and burrowed his face into her neck, lips pressed to her skin, soft, rapid puffs of breath sending shivers through her body, causing her muscles to clench and squeeze him even more.
Suddenly he stopped, sheathed completely in her body. He was, as always, in complete control of his body, but for once he seemed to be struggling to hold onto that control. He began to move with more urgency and, instinctively, her legs came up to wrap around his waist, holding tight, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, moving in a sort of synchronous pleasure not found outside this particular activity, or a really successful high stakes job. Time was irrelevant, both speeding by in a heady rush and wonderfully, body tinglingly dragging on.
Sensation and feeling surrounded them, infused them, harkened them back to more basic needs as they filled their need for each other, for comfort, warmth, friendship, understanding and even love. Eliot's thrusts grew more and more rapid and they crested a wave of pleasure until they lay panting, still joined and moving slowly, still overly sensitive bodies humming with sensation.
Carefully, Eliot rolled them over, so as not to crush her beneath his broader, heavier frame. After a while, she raised her head and looked him in the eye. He smiled softly at her and she grinned and giggled.
"Next time," she said breathily, her eyes ticking to the big, floor to ceiling windows, "Against them. Looking out."
Eliot rolled his head around and considered the view before saying, "We can defiantly do that."
And they had. Twice.