Slow, Baccano! (Claire/Chane)
Title: Slow Author/Artist: shiegra Rating: R/NC-17 Word count: 447 Prompt: Baccano! - Claire/Chane - prolonged sex - she knew what she wanted now, and there was no rush
She’s at the point where she’s almost trying to make sound now, voice swollen and rawly aching in her throat, back arched. Usually she gets restless before he does, but not now.
And he’s either impatient now, or just teasing her. Chane moves against him slow and slick, feeling golden heat spill down her skin, pulling a sound soft enough to be sigh from her throat. He drags his fingers down her spine, stirring through the dampness of sweat, tracing around to her hipbones, drawing gentle, almost reverent patterns along her pelvis. She tightens around him and he makes a sound, deep and guttural, and arches his hips into hers. A smile flares; sleepy and sexual and incorrigible. Claire makes up for all her helpless silence; he isn’t very quiet at all.
She never bothered to remind him that there were other people in the world.
He spreads his fingers against her shoulder blades as she bends to kiss his mouth, lips parting and mouth opening. He still tastes like the strawberries he brought her—that he licked off her skin with a velvet-edged hunger, running his mouth up her spine, lingering over the back of her neck and the soft arch of her ribs before her belly flattened into muscle. He always lingered over her fingers, their small scars and calluses, the short nails and tough palms.
Chane fists her hands in the sheets on either side of his head and rocked her hips, small movements that made him mouth along her throat, breath fast and sharp, and move sharply enough against her to make her spasm, rising to her knees and nearly slipping him free. She watched his shoulders shift, that wide wondering grin on his mouth tilt slyly, and sank her fingers deep into the sheets as he rose with her like the tide, like a wave; inexorable, pulled by her body like she’s the moon, her gravity tugging him along. He kisses her hot and deep and she sighs, shudders, lets him pull her back.
Muscles rise, ridged along his spine, broad bands under sleek skin. She strokes her hands down his body, wonderingly, and presses her mouth to the skin beneath his ear. Claire, she says to him, Claire, Claire, Claire—
He makes an throaty, delighted sound in his chest and slams into her, the sharp movement tipping him over the edge. He kisses her hard and sharp as his fingers seek between them, but just the touch of his mouth is just about enough to push her after him, and when she slips back down he’s whispering into her hair all the words that she’s no longer terrified to hear.