![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephanometraThe following is all the explanation I have for this.
[22:34]![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vinylroad: DUDE WRITE SAMMY REDWINGS DRABBLE.
Title: Ace of Aces
Pairing: Sam/Jess
Rating: NC17
Summary: They both get excited about fucking when she's on the rag.
Warnings: Um. Can we see the title and Kat's statement? I think we can.
Notes: Thanks toioshva for providing the title. I was actually laboring under a nomenclature misapprehension before! But it's cleared up now. No beta on this, because it's, well, 700 words of red wings porn.
***
They both get excited about fucking when she's on the rag.
Jess is on the pill, of course, but she wants to be extra-careful, insists on condoms even though she knows Sam isn't going anywhere, knows her beautiful, earnest Sam probably isn't even capable of cheating. God knows he doesn't notice the way other girls look at him, size him up with slow smiles and heated glances. He only has eyes for her, always.
So it's not a fear thing, not exactly. It's just that her cousin got pregnant at nineteen, dropped out of school, and now she works at Trader Joe's and barely covers rent and day care. Jess doesn't want that to happen to her.
But those days when she's bleeding she feels safe, sure that everything will be okay, and Sam is almost embarrassingly eager to fuck her without that tiny barrier. He tells her how hot she is inside, how wet (of course she's wet, she's bleeding from the crotch) and how he's going to fill her up.
They go through a lot of towels that week, generally.
She wasn't comfortable with the thought of having sex on her period until Sam, didn't even start letting him do it until they were living together. For his part, he was always fascinated by her being on the rag, like it was some great mystery or something.
Occasionally she wonders if it's something to do with his mother, and then feels bad for even thinking such a thing.
And she still doesn't usually want him to touch her for the first couple of days, when her breasts are heavy and sore, her back and belly aching and hot, but he'll watch her, then, watch her getting herself off to relieve the tension, soothe the ache. He'll spoon her after, tell her how beautiful she is, how hot, how much he's looking forward to fucking her as soon as she wants him, and by the next night she knows she'll have her thighs clamped tight around his hips, her blood and arousal soaking the towel under her ass as he slams into her, over and over.
Sam groans like it hurts him when he's inside her, the pleasure so sharp and raw it's like pain, the heavy scent of blood in the air making him bare his teeth and fuck her harder, faster, and when he comes she can feel it inside, feel the bloom of heat, a tiny drop in the river of life and death and sex flowing from her cunt.
She came twice while he was inside her, his hand splayed protectively across her belly, his thumb working her clit, and she can only moan weakly and push at his shoulder when he pushes her thighs further apart and slithers down the bed.
"No, no," Jess says, but she's heavy, liquid, melting into the mattress as he drags his tongue down the crease between her hip and thigh, and she shudders when he finally touches her with his mouth.
It's filthy and weird but she wants that he wants her this way, gets off on it.
"Gonna eat me out of you," he murmurs against her skin, wicked and low like his tongue on her clit, in her swollen-hot hole.
He sounds like he wants to fucking crawl inside her.
And it's that more than anything else that gets her, his moaning as her copper-sweet mixed with the salt of his own come covers his face, the way his hips are working against the bed like he's hard again, like he just can't help himself, and the sheets are going to be a fucking mess but hell, it's laundry day anyway and she's coming again, body wracked with the intensity of it, hips heaving against his mouth.
He kisses her thigh when he's done, the shape of his lips sticky-hot with blood on her skin.
She drags him back up the bed to kiss him, seeks his lips even though he blushes and tries to turn his face away, but this is the only time she gets to taste them together, her come and his mixed together, all overwhelmed by the metallic tang of blood. It makes her feel alive.
"I love you," she says, voice a whisper against his sticky lips, and he curls a hand around her hip, rubs gentle circles into her skin. He doesn't need to say it back, not now, but he always does.
***
I'm seriously afraid that fandom is going to shun me now. IT WAS ALL KAT'S FAULT, I SWEAR.
[22:34]
vinylroad: DUDE WRITE SAMMY REDWINGS DRABBLE.Title: Ace of Aces
Pairing: Sam/Jess
Rating: NC17
Summary: They both get excited about fucking when she's on the rag.
Warnings: Um. Can we see the title and Kat's statement? I think we can.
Notes: Thanks to
ioshva for providing the title. I was actually laboring under a nomenclature misapprehension before! But it's cleared up now. No beta on this, because it's, well, 700 words of red wings porn.They both get excited about fucking when she's on the rag.
Jess is on the pill, of course, but she wants to be extra-careful, insists on condoms even though she knows Sam isn't going anywhere, knows her beautiful, earnest Sam probably isn't even capable of cheating. God knows he doesn't notice the way other girls look at him, size him up with slow smiles and heated glances. He only has eyes for her, always.
So it's not a fear thing, not exactly. It's just that her cousin got pregnant at nineteen, dropped out of school, and now she works at Trader Joe's and barely covers rent and day care. Jess doesn't want that to happen to her.
But those days when she's bleeding she feels safe, sure that everything will be okay, and Sam is almost embarrassingly eager to fuck her without that tiny barrier. He tells her how hot she is inside, how wet (of course she's wet, she's bleeding from the crotch) and how he's going to fill her up.
They go through a lot of towels that week, generally.
She wasn't comfortable with the thought of having sex on her period until Sam, didn't even start letting him do it until they were living together. For his part, he was always fascinated by her being on the rag, like it was some great mystery or something.
Occasionally she wonders if it's something to do with his mother, and then feels bad for even thinking such a thing.
And she still doesn't usually want him to touch her for the first couple of days, when her breasts are heavy and sore, her back and belly aching and hot, but he'll watch her, then, watch her getting herself off to relieve the tension, soothe the ache. He'll spoon her after, tell her how beautiful she is, how hot, how much he's looking forward to fucking her as soon as she wants him, and by the next night she knows she'll have her thighs clamped tight around his hips, her blood and arousal soaking the towel under her ass as he slams into her, over and over.
Sam groans like it hurts him when he's inside her, the pleasure so sharp and raw it's like pain, the heavy scent of blood in the air making him bare his teeth and fuck her harder, faster, and when he comes she can feel it inside, feel the bloom of heat, a tiny drop in the river of life and death and sex flowing from her cunt.
She came twice while he was inside her, his hand splayed protectively across her belly, his thumb working her clit, and she can only moan weakly and push at his shoulder when he pushes her thighs further apart and slithers down the bed.
"No, no," Jess says, but she's heavy, liquid, melting into the mattress as he drags his tongue down the crease between her hip and thigh, and she shudders when he finally touches her with his mouth.
It's filthy and weird but she wants that he wants her this way, gets off on it.
"Gonna eat me out of you," he murmurs against her skin, wicked and low like his tongue on her clit, in her swollen-hot hole.
He sounds like he wants to fucking crawl inside her.
And it's that more than anything else that gets her, his moaning as her copper-sweet mixed with the salt of his own come covers his face, the way his hips are working against the bed like he's hard again, like he just can't help himself, and the sheets are going to be a fucking mess but hell, it's laundry day anyway and she's coming again, body wracked with the intensity of it, hips heaving against his mouth.
He kisses her thigh when he's done, the shape of his lips sticky-hot with blood on her skin.
She drags him back up the bed to kiss him, seeks his lips even though he blushes and tries to turn his face away, but this is the only time she gets to taste them together, her come and his mixed together, all overwhelmed by the metallic tang of blood. It makes her feel alive.
"I love you," she says, voice a whisper against his sticky lips, and he curls a hand around her hip, rubs gentle circles into her skin. He doesn't need to say it back, not now, but he always does.
