Dirty Dancing: Locke and Liadan Offshoot Who: Locke and Liadan What: A quickie Where: The Limo When: Thursday, December 21st Rating: NC-17
Locke opened the limo door, drawing in Liadan to nip at her ear, before guiding her into the limo, shutting the door behind them.
Liadan locked the door behind them before turning, reaching out to try to grab the front of Locke's shirt to pull him close to her.
Locke let Liadan pull him in, slipping a hand under her dress and a hand on a breast, thumbing a nipple as he kissed her.
She feels it, that surge running through her body as her movements become rougher, one hand still grasping the front of his shirt tightly as the fingers of the other wind into Locke's hair, a surge of lust running through her already lust-filled, alcohol-hazed mind. Blessed Lady. A Kiss? The Kiss? She moans low in her throat, her body throbbing and responding even under that light touch as an ache begins within her, a strong desire running through her as her lips part, tongue slicking over his lips.
Locke freezes, falling back slowly onto the couch. He hasn't felt this good kissing her since the first night. Was it the drink? It didn't matter, all that remained in this world was a pressing need, pressing against his trousers. He pulled her down onto the couch, kissing her from behind, fumbling with his belt and pulling her dress up over her hips. Pulling her panties to the side, he worked his throbbing erection into her. Gods, was she ever wet. The music from the club, loud and bassy, instilled an unconscious driving rhythm in him as he thrust to the beat.
Liadan moans low in her throat, moving against him as her tongue slides against Locke's, her actions rough and positively wanton as her fingers tighten in his hair, her muscles clenching and then relaxing around his length in time with his thrusts. It feels so ridiculously good as she moves against him, making soft, needy sounds against his lips each time he thrusts up into her.
It pains him, but he must pull away from her delectable kisses if he's to pleasure her properly and he pulls back into a kneeling position, one leg up to balance himself. Left hand on her hip, his right sneaks under her dress, manipulating the nippled spheres present there. His thrusts become harder and deeper as her flesh makes way for him, until wet slapping noises signify he has reached the apex of his length.
The soft sounds become sharp, little cries the deeper, the harder he thrusts into her, her breath catching as she struggles to meet his pace, to match it. She can feel his fingers on her breasts, her nipples tightening to the point where it's almost painful underneath his touch. "Blessed Lady..." She manages to get out, so deliciously, wonderfully filled as Locke buries himself deep inside her body.
He didn't want to let go of her breasts, but his thrusts became too strong for him to hold her waist so delicately. He wrapped his right arm around her body, left hand slipping under her panties to stimulate her clit and plunged into her soft, inviting lips relentlessly. It felt so good it would be criminal to stop and the thought made him drive harder, grinding as he went.
His name left her lips in short gasps of breath and she grinds down as best she can, one hand moving to fondle and tease her own breast through the fabric. The nipple, still proudly erect, is tender to the touch from his ministrations and she makes a soft, desperately needy sound, being driven up to that peak scarily fast as his fingers circle her clit, each slippery slide sending waves of sensation tingling through her body, that pressure building within her. Signally that her orgasm was close at hand. "Locke," she manages to say, her accent thick, her voice husky. "Close... so close..."
"Nnngh." That's all he can manage. Arousal brings to him a silence and single-minded focus that is difficult enough to navigate sober. Intoxicated, it was nigh-possible for him to attempt coherency. He hoped on some level or another she understood him, understood that he had no idea how he had held his climax for so long. Memories of the kisses were doing desperate things to his engorged member and he dashed down the homestretch, pervading her as she pervaded his sensibilities.
It's too much. It's so much. Too much. Blessed... Lady... Mother of the World. Liadan's head fell back, her voice echoing through the limo as she cried out. It was too much and with each slide of his fingers over her, she trembled, shivers running through her body and then she was there, balanced on that peak, her breath catching in her throat as she reaches for it, reaches for it and tumbles over, her body clenching around him, inner walls convulsing as her orgasm seizes her by the throat.
And just as he thought he reached the pinnacle of her sex, it got tighter. Oh Gods, did it ever get tighter. He gave one final thrust, holding the position as her tremors milked his seed from him. It was good. Undeniably so, but Locke had the sneaking suspicion that this wouldn't be enough. Not for tonight. He fell backwards, bringing her with him and sat there inside her, kissing her and massaging her tender breasts, leaving the nipples be for the moment.
Liadan leans back with him, her breathing ragged as she kisses him, fingers stroking over his face, unable to stop touching him. Slowly though, the world begins to return and she forces herself to break the kiss, regretfully letting a finger run over his bottom lip. "We have to clean up," she whispers. "They'll be coming back soon."
The haze has been gone for a while, but it's so inviting to just stay like this. Begrudgingly, he agrees. "We'll need to air out the limo as well."
Liadan nods, placing one last, brief kiss against his lips before she pulls away, straightening out her clothing.