A/N: For Skyeward Month, Week 2, Day 3: Humor. Note: contains smut.
Spontaneity Is the Key of Everything
She made one comment on his spontaneity – of, more precisely, the lack of thereof (It's okay, you're a robot, of course going against your programming is going to fry your circuits), and he wants to get over it, not to care about it, but then again… It's Skye we are talking about, and he has never been able to disregard anything she said.
So he has decided to show her he could, in fact, be spontaneous.
And that's how he has ended up in front of the door of her hotel room – thank goodness for the rare overnights in hotels – unannounced, a bottle of scotch and two glasses in hand. It's an old hotel, with old doors that still uses keys instead of key cards, and it suits him just fine – one precise kick to the corner of the door and the flimsy lock gives away, letting him in.
Skye's not in the main room, but he can hear the faint roar of the water as the bathtub is being filled, accompanied by her soft singing (she has a really pretty voice; it's a shame she only sings when she thinks no-one is listening), and he smirks to himself. This is exactly what he has expected, since Skye said at dinner that she was going to so take advantage of the big tub in her room. The corners of his mouth still curled into a smile, he places the drink on the table, pours a liberal amount into both glasses, then waits – until the tap turned off, and he can be sure she's submerged herself in the warm, scented water. Then he slowly counts to ten – lets her adjust to the temperature –, picks up the glasses, and walks to the bathroom.
Skye – sitting amongst the foam, her hair down, the top of the swell of her breast just visible above the surface of the water – stiffens a bit at first, alarmed, but then a slow grin spreads on her face when she sees who her unexpected visitor is.
"Hello there," she says in a low, teasing voice. "Couldn't bear a night without me?"
"Would you think that I'm pathetic if I said yes?" he replies, matching her amused smile with one on his own. And although he's just trying to reciprocate her flirting, there's some truth there – ever since their fledging relationship has started, he has been kind of addicted to her, which would alarm him, has he been not enjoying it so much.
"No. I couldn't really fault you for that, when I have been missing you a bit, too." Just to illustrate the bit, she raises her right hand, her thumb and forefinger held close. He chuckles at her.
"Good; anyway, I came bearing gifts," he says, bending and handing her one of the glasses. She takes it, rising and leaning forward a bit, so her nipples just peek above the water for a moment. He knows she is doing it on purpose.
"Aren't people usually drink, I don't know, champagne, while they are in the tub?" she criticizes playfully, but still takes a sip of the drink. He sees a faint shiver traveling through her body as the burning alcohol slides down her throat. He tries not to gulp.
"Well, I thought you'd prefer this. But if you want champagne – maybe with strawberries? –, I can get that for you next time."
"Oh, so there will be a next time?" she drawls, settling back against the wall of the tub. "I like the way you think." She winks at him.
It's time for phase two of his plan.
Taking a sip of his drink himself, and letting out an approving hum – who would have thought that the hotel bar sells such fine scotch? –, he puts his glass down on the edge of the tub, then, rather unceremoniously, kicks off his shoes. He is already pulling his shirt through his head when he hears Skye's laugh.
"What are you doing?" she giggles, her hand in front of her mouth.
He shrugs, unfastening his belt.
"Well, I'm in need of a bath, too, and you have already drawn one – so I thought, why couldn't we share it? Water preservation and all," he answers, pushing his pants and underwear down and stepping out of them.
He hears her laugh out loud and sees from the corner of his eyes as she throws her head back as he bends to pull off his socks.
"I see absolutely no fault in your logic," she tells him, wakening lust in her eyes as she takes his nude form in.
All of his clothes in a messy pile on the bathroom floor, he steps over the edge of the tub and sinks into the warm water, his back against the wall of the tub, facing her. She doesn't take her eyes off of him for one second, a knowing smirk on her face.
"I know what's going on here," she tells him, the pink tip of her tongue peeking out between her lips for a moment. "It's about what I've said. You're trying to prove that you can be spontaneous."
He lets out a theatrical sigh, settling against the end of the tub.
"I have no idea what are you talking about," he says, overacting nonchalance.
"Oh, really?" Her eyes flash mischievously, then, before he could grab her hands and stop her, she thrusts her palms forward on the surface of the water, and splashes him right in the face. "Admit it!" she demands before unleashing another small wave of bath water.
He gasps, water dripping from his face and hair as she laughs, ready to continue her assault.
"Admit it!"
He shakes his head, getting rid of as much water as he can, then, before she could launch her next attack, he grabs her hands, playfully starting to wrestle with her, splashing a great deal of water over the edge of the tub, flooding the floor (and drenching his clothes, although he doesn't realize it just yet). She is thrashing and squealing in delight while half-heartedly resisting as he pulls her forward and turning her over, her back to his chest, presses her against his body, his arms sneaking around her waist and holding her securely.
"Okay," he gives in when she stops wriggling, "You drive me crazy," he says, blowing a raspberry where her neck meets her shoulder. "And you make me want to be more than I am," a playful nip. "I want to be playful… and romantic… and yes, spontaneous with you," he tells her, every item on the list accompanied by a kiss to the delicate skin of her neck. "Can you blame me for it?" He concludes with a bold lick against the column of her neck.
"Not at all," she replies, her playful tones replaced with breathless need. He feels it too; he is, too, all too aware of their bodies pressing together, the gentle curves of her back fitting against his hard chest, her round rear on his thighs, their legs tangled together.
"I'm glad we are on the same page," he tells her, although not even he is sure whether he means the discussion they have just had, or the desire he knows they share. The scale tips towards the latter as his hand steals upwards, cupping the curve of her breast, massaging the soft mound before pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
She lets her head fall back, gasping.
"Yes," she moans, eyes fluttering closed. "Hm… just like that."
He sneaks her hand towards her core, desperate for friction, but he sees it and grabs her wrist, pulling it back.
"Let me," he breaths into her ear, pulling the lobe between his lips.
One of his hands still fondling her breast, the other travels down, slipping between her folds, finding that sweet spot just above her opening with ease, rubbing and teasing it, making her mewl with pleasure and wriggle in his arms, desperately seeking more – so he gives her that, slipping two fingers into her core. She lets out a soft cry at the sudden intrusion, her hand grabbing his wrist, keeping it firm in place.
"More," she begs as her hand lets go of his wrist and starts searching for his member under the water. She finds it soon enough, her nimble fingers curling around the hardened shaft, stroking his length and making him gasp. "I want you."
He bends his head in response, sucking on her neck – leaving marks, no doubt –, then wraps his own fingers around hers, the two of them guiding his member into her welcoming core.
She moans and stiffens as he slides home, her warm, wet walls clenching around him.
It's an awkward angle, but he slides down a bit along the length of the tub and pulls her a bit upwards, so he can dive deeper into her, the head of his cock hitting the entrance of her womb. Still, the most of the work is left to her, but she takes the task, moving frantically over him, while he rocks his hips against her and keeps his hand just above where they're joined, rubbing her clit, coaxing her climax along.
It doesn't take her long to reach the peak – a minute or two, and her whole body goes rigid, her back snapping into a beautiful curve, all of her muscles flexing as her walls spasm rhythmically around him, drawing him even deeper into her body as if she never wants to let him go. His body responds to her orgasm, tension coiling deep in his groin, then springing free suddenly in an explosion of pleasure as he shots his seed into her in hot spurts.
When she comes down from her high, her body supple and sated, she turns around in his arms, resting her face on his rapidly rising and falling chest, sighing contently. After some time, when her heartbeat finally returns to normal, she pulls herself up a bit and reaches for her glass that somehow miraculously remained sitting on the edge of the tub. She raises it to her mouth and takes a delicate sip, licking her lips as she puts it down.
"You know what?" she asks him, her hands splayed wide on his chest, her voice still hoarse with the remains of her orgasm, and her hips grinding down against his in a seductive fashion (she is a greedy little creature). "I love it when you're spontaneous."