Re: Log, Ocean's Eleven, Seven Hills: Sam A & Cris M
Teeth purpled down the column of dark throat and Cris shrugged to get rid of the leather jacket, shedding it carelessly onto the bathroom floor. He'd be putting it back on soon, but he didn't care. He wanted skin too, contact where he could get it, and in that t-shirt his arms were free, able to scrape warm against the thick cotton scrubs and their countless, soldier-stationed buttons. Her mouth felt fucking good, hot, along the shore of his collarbone, and the suction went straight to his cock. He brought his hands back to where they were needed: one back down, fingertips branding against her clit, and the other moving to the back of Sam's neck, where the black weight of the braid fell frayed. His breathing came hard.
She rocked, and he teased her with fingers, away from her clit. Crescent of two fingers in her pussy when she lifted her ass—there, like he'd at least fuck her up to his knuckles, but he didn't. He folded his bottom lip under his teeth. Her cheek was hot against his collarbone and she smiled up at him, defiled lipstick around her bowed lips like something feeding under the globe of the overhead light mistaken for the moon. A roll of hips and he pressed up into her, enough that he could feel the knots of his own knuckles where they stubbornly stayed.
"Te necesito," Cris answered, lewd with shamelessness, black lashes low, lips at her ear. He turned his head, pressed his lips rough and blistering to her white jaw, over, until he could catch her mouth with his. The clothing between them felt like nothing more than a formality, a nuisance, but there was frustration in the take of the kiss—there was want that couldn't be sated and the stubbornness that brought out. If he couldn't fuck her, he'd bleed her dry instead. Finally, he fingered her, knuckle-deep in her pussy, down to the imprint of lips on his hand in some filthy, twisted sort of kiss. "I want to fuck you, mami." Confession was being held, coarse English, and the words came breathless, scoured with want that had long ago burned down to the bone of need, punctuated with cracked moans made soft. "I want to be inside of you and—Dios—I wanted you out there. I wanted to fuck you on that table, mami, wanted to drag you to edge of the the thing and turn you over, right there, fuck the king and queen. You don't know how sexy you are. I want to make you come and then I want you to taste it."