Need

[lanfykins.livejournal.com]

He absently kicked the door shut and slammed the woman against the corridor wall, his hands moving feverishly under her shirt. Her hands were in his hair, pulling his head towards hers, palms hot against his cheeks as they kissed, open-mouthed. He lifted her shirt up her body, revealing her smoothly muscled torso, and she writhed sinously, grinding her hips against his as he pulled the shirt over her head and threw it somewhere on the floor. He groaned slightly and gently bit her tongue.

She threw him back against the wall on the other side, and pressed against him, her fingers running around the waistband of his jeans, lightly tickling the skin of his stomach. His eyes widened at the white scar tissue that curved diagonally under her right breast, and his fingers traced the line of puckered skin. Without taking her lips from his she grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on her arse instead, where he could feel the movement of taut muscle even through the denim.

He moved his arm up, pulling her even tighter against the aching hardness at his groin, and she slipped her hands under his shirt, sliding them up his torso, the callouses on her palms oddly rough against his skin.

He moved his hands up the smooth skin of her spine until they met elastic. He fumbled at the catch and after a moment it sprang apart. She bent back, her hips still pressed against his, her spine a perfect arch, and pulled the straps off her arms, tossing her bra in vaguely the same direction as her shirt. He gently cupped a breast in each hand, the familiar soft heaviness seeming almost out of place on a body so muscular, and shivered with the sudden, uncharacteristic desire to crush that softness beneath merciless fingers.

Then she ran her hands up his sides again, her fingernails scraping furrows in his skin, and he gasped and threw her against the opposite wall again, so hard her head cracked on the plaster. For a moment her eyes went unfocused, and a thrill of animal fear ran through him. Then she stepped forwards and kissed him again, hard, like a challenge. "Don't do that again," she growled without taking her mouth from his. A moment later his belt whipped around his hips and was gone, and he felt her fingers brushing ticklishly against the coarse pubic hair as she undid the button of his jeans.

"Whore," he breathed and she laughed. Fumbling to his left he found the handle of his bedroom door, turned it and pushed her through. She half-fell back onto the bed and levered herself up onto one elbow to challenge him with a half-smile, her skin ruddy in the sodium light coming in through the window. He jumped up on top of her, kneeling with one knee in the crook of her elbow, holding her down as he kissed her throat, following the line of the vein, teeth lightly scraping the skin. His other hand reached into her jeans, down the coarse prickle of fur that the thin fabric beneath couldn't conceal, to press and rub against the inviting parting that concealed her clit.

She arched under him, her breath catching in her throat, and pressed herself against his fingers. He could smell her now, the animal smell of musk and salt overwhelming the faint scent of flowers about her wrists and the smoke that lingered in her hair from the cigarette that they had shared.

He bent his head to her unscarred breast, opening his mouth wide to suck in as much as he could of the soft flesh behind the hard point of her nipple, squeezing it gently between his teeth as he let it out again. His other hand fumbled at the button of her jeans until it finally slid through the buttonhole, and he could pull the zip apart.

With a practiced movement she lifted her hips and wriggled out of jeans and knickers both, kicking them clear. Hurriedly he sat up and pulled off the rest of his own clothes, feasting hungry eyes on the smooth curves of her naked body as she twisted to display it to him.

"What the hell happened to you?" he breathed, leaning down to trace the line of the second scar that curved from the hollow of her hip into the slight swell of her belly.

She caught his wrist in a grasp like iron. "I get into a lot of fights," she told him. Then with a yank and a twist he was on his back and she was straddling him, the orange light through the windows casting stark shadows across her body as she lifted his cock with a practiced hand and guided it into her.

---

It was hours later. He now lay sprawled in an exhausted stupor, one arm lax across her where his hand had fallen from its idle caress of her breast. She waited for his breathing to slow before carefully lifting it off her and standing up.

In the faint light of pre-dawn, the scratches and welts showed black against her skin. She felt sore inside, and aching with pulled muscles and wrenched joints, but with the exhaustion came a calm she hadn't felt in months.

She'd screwed up. It happened. She'd deal with it.

Through the window the moon was setting, and she paused to watch it go. If she just closed her eyes for a moment she would be able to feel powerful arms around her waist, warm breath against her ear, a solid presence behind her that she could lean back against, and let everything go.

The moon vanished into the clouds on the horizon. She sighed, picked up her clothes, and walked with open eyes back into the world.