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Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: RRrrrr. Sex. Sex. Sex.
Actually, this answers the oral sex challenge, but in a not entirely satisfying way.
Behind Closed Doors by ALC Punk! "You're very good at this," John gasps. He's completely intoxicated with what is being done to his body. Lips and tongue, and teeth, and -- gaaah. He can almost feel his eyes roll back into his head as she tightens her lips just right. His breath comes shorter as she shifts against him, her breath hitting sweat-dampened skin and adding to the effect. At some point, his brain will let him know how he's supposed to deal with this. Really. Because right now? It's taking a vacation on level three with his body here on level seven being fellated quite expertly by the leader of the Atlantis expedition. He is pretty certain this is *not* on Lizzie's resume. Slight twisting motions are added to her head-bobs, and he is suddenly heading for an orgasm. He's going to come, he's going to growl, he's going to have Lizzie Weir swallowing him in deep. Oh, this is good. Red lights, blue lights, green lights--and at the right moment (and maybe she's telepathic, he thinks) she bites at a precise angle. His hips jerk in spasmodic reaction, and his brain finishes short-circuiting. Dimly, he wonders if she'll have a bruise from the way his pelvis slammed into her face. And then he doesn't care. Because she hasn't stopped sucking, and it still feels good, even if he's gone flat. For a moment, he lets her continue, then he lets out a growl, "Lizzie." With a slurping sound, she jerks her head up, her eyes angry. "Don't call me that." "Why not?" There's grace in her movements as she stands, fluidity in the way she steps away from him. And something not-quite-real about the way she opens the door to leave. "Good night, Sheppard." And she's gone, leaving him sated and oddly disturbed. Lizzie Weir sucks cock like a pro, but she apparently doesn't care for reciprocation. He thinks he'll have to change that. -finis- © 2005 ALC Punk! |