&fic;

 

Idle Now

by sugargroupie

NC-17, 441 words

Summary: you can only focus on one feeling at a time.

Disclaimer: Not mine; O'Bannon, Henson, Kemper, et. al.

Notes: written for the Wallsex Challenge at my journal. Beta-free, with casting spoilers for Kansas, I guess.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

He rolls away from you and onto his back, spreads his arms and legs out wide as he tries to catch his breath. He stares at the ceiling of your bedroom and grins, turning to meet your gaze briefly before closing his eyes. John is proud of himself; he doesn't need to speak for you to hear the words he'd say as if they were your own. Damn baby, that was good.

Yes it was, you think, but keep it to yourself. Severing complete contact with his warm body, you shift across the bed and lean your back against the wall, stretching your legs out to tangle within the sheets. The wall is comfortably cool against your damp skin, and you are boneless, relaxed enough to not want to move from this spot.

You must've closed your eyes and drifted to sleep because his hand on your leg wakes you, drags you to alertness by the path of his fingers inching slowly up your thigh. "Caroline," he murmurs, and you feel the slide of his limbs against yours; his hair tickling your skin as he moves between your legs. He says your name against your mouth this time, his lips folding over the syllables deliberately, drawing them out. Drawing you to kiss him as a reply.

John grabs hold of your waist and you slide your ass down the bed a little, tilting your hips up, cunt on display like a feast.

"Is this what you want?"

You've never been shy about sex with John; about when or where or how often. There is so much space between you already -- space to be Caroline and John, space for so many other things -- that there's no room for modesty.

And John doesn't have to answer because you taste it in his mouth. Wet and warm, firm kisses down your throat and over your breasts; tongue on the curve of your belly, then nothing, then everything.

You are familiar with his tongue, with his nimble fingers inside you, like now. Lips on your clit, licking you wet and spreading it back to your ass where his fingers follow.

He urges you to open wide, and you do.

(legs fall apart, lips form an oh my god at the intrusion of your ass but it feels so good)

Your head hits the wall with a solid thump, but you can only focus on one feeling at a time because your orgasm is selfish, and wants all your attention.

Vaguely aware of John releasing his hold, you slump down on the bed and close your eyes, the wall comfortably cool against your back.

*

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