Reckless Abandon
By The Dawn
E-mail: lesbiancala@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17
Challenge: cathandsara, Charmed episode titles
Pairing: Catherine/Sara
Spoilers: None
Archive: Just ask;)
Disclaimer: Trust me. If I owned them, you'd be watching an entirely
different show.
A/N: Song lyrics are from Jewel's "I Won't Walk Away"
~Wrong or right, be mine tonight~
~Harsh world be damned~
~We'll make a stand~
My car broke down, so she drove me home. Pretty simple concept. It's
happened before, with just about all of my co-workers. We're a tight-
knit pseudo-family that way. One of us needs help, someone provides
it. This time is no different.
Except that for some reason, I'm not in any hurry to get out of the
car. Instead, I look over at her nervously, my eyes drinking in her
firm jaw, the curve of her wrist, her long fingers casually draped
over the steering wheel. And I wonder what those fingers would feel
like buried in my hair, buried in me.
Her eyebrow is raised inquisitively, and I know she's wondering what
I'm still doing here. I open my mouth to speak, then close it when I
realize I have no idea how to explain this. She smirks at my
inability to speak, and my cheeks flush as I think of how badly I
suddenly want to claim those lips with my own.
She's trying to look casual, confident in that easy way she has, but
I know she's nervous too because her fingers have closed around the
steering wheel, her thumbs rapidly drumming on the leather.
I feel the muscles in her thigh jump as my hand moves to rest on it.
I utter an invitation, coffee or a beer or some other excuse to get
her inside when I know we won't be going anywhere near the kitchen.
Her throat moves enticingly when she gulps, taking a long breath
before she puts the car in park and pulls the key from the ignition.
My hand mourns the loss of her warmth as she slides out of the
driver's seat.
We don't touch or talk during the brief walk to my front door. I
hold it open for her, her body brushing against mine as she passes.
I bite my lip, close my eyes in an attempt to hold back the moan
that's resting in my throat.
I think she notices how tense I am, because there's that eyebrow
again, and a flicker of concern in her deep brown eyes. I draw a
ragged breath as I meet her gaze, leaning back to let my weight
close the door. My hands are still closed on the doorknob behind me,
inadvertently pushing my chest out toward her, and a small smile
tugs at my lips as I notice her eyes glancing down.
There are only about eight or ten inches between us, not even a
whole foot, but I can feel each and every one of them. We're at an
impasse; one of us has to move, but neither of us is willing to risk
breaking this spell.
A small lock of hair is hanging over her face, shifting slightly
with every breath she takes. I lick my lips almost unconsciously as
I reach forward to tuck it behind her ear. Her eyes close and her
breath hitches as my palm brushes across her cheek, and I can't seem
to stop myself from molding my hand to the soft skin there.
Her cheek is warm and flushed, and her lips are centimeters away
from my wrist. My breath is coming in slow gasps now, and I watch,
fascinated, as my fingers slide down her neck of their own accord.
The delicious way her body shivers at my touch is worthy of fantasy
all on its own.
My fingers trail across her collarbone, and her head tilts back, her
body leaning into my touch. We're closer now, the scant inches
between us smoldering with the shared heat of our bodies. We've done
nothing yet that would hold up in court, but as she gazes at me
through half-lidded eyes, I know that lines have been crossed and
that the point of no return is wasting no time in speeding out of
sight.
A gasp escapes my lips as she catches my hand just before it
ventures under the neckline of her top. Her fingers lace with mine,
tugging gently, and I find myself pressed up against her.
Her body is hot against me, her breasts pushing just above mine with
each shallow breath. Our mouths are so close now that I can feel her
breathing, can almost taste her on my tongue. Her other hand comes
up to trace my lips and I resist the urge to take her fingers in my
mouth. Her thumb gently teases my lower lip before decision flashes
in her eyes.
And then her hand is on the back of my neck, pulling me into her as
our lips tangle roughly together. My hands are clutching the back of
her shirt, holding on tightly as she presses me up against the door.
I flick my tongue out to tease her lips, pleased when her mouth
opens readily to me.
She tastes rather like I thought she would; faint traces of coffee
and the mint of Nicorette, mixed with the warm taste of what can
only be described as her. She moans into my mouth as my hands slide
under her shirt, grasping and kneading the soft flesh of her back.
Before I can realize what's happening, I'm being pulled toward the
staircase, my lips still firmly held by her own. By the time we make
it to the landing, we've lost a substantial amount of clothing,
although I can't for the life of me remember how. Her bare flesh
slides against mine, and the soft sounds coming from her throat are
having a profound effect on my body.
We've stopped moving, and I realize that she doesn't know where the
bedroom is. I take the initiative, my hands stroking and teasing her
skin as I maneuver us toward our destination.
My control doesn't last long, and I quickly find myself lying naked
on top of my comforter. And all I know right now is hands and teeth
and tongue, and my fingers clutching the sheets in a death grip as
she blazes a trail down my body.
Then those long, graceful fingers are inside me and it's thrusting
hips and throaty gasps of pleasure, and her hot tongue driving me
toward the brink of insanity. My head digs back into my pillow and
my body goes rigid as I fall over the edge. I'm still shaking
violently as she slides back up my body, and I can taste myself on
her lips, salty and musky and I'm sure that I've never tasted
anything quite so divine.
Except I'm convinced there's one thing that would be better, and I
set out to prove my theory, enjoying the tiny spasms of her muscles
as I run my fingers and lips over them. As I dip my tongue into her
navel, I find the answer to my other earlier question as her hands
tangle themselves in my hair, insistent pressure guiding me where my
attentions are most appreciated.
She's warm and wet around my fingers, and I was right about her
taste, because I'm thoroughly convinced that I'll never need to eat
or drink anything ever again, as long as I can keep this memory on
my tongue. Her tiny gasps and moans increase in intensity as I work
my tongue and fingers faster, thrusting and swirling, and then I'm
holding her while the trembling subsides.
This time when our lips meet, it's leisurely and aimless, a gentle
exploration of soft contours and hard teeth. Somehow one of us has
gotten the comforter up around us, and I'm tracing designs into her
skin with my fingers while our mouths continue to memorize each
other.
She falters, and pulls away slightly, eyes searching mine for some
sort of assurance. Placing a gentle kiss beside her ear, I whisper
softly.
"Shh. We'll worry about that tomorrow."
It appeases her, and she grins before assaulting my skin with
renewed fervor.
It's going to be a long night.
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