dial tone

[formoftherapy]

It's a Saturday, nothing special about it.

Kite, having done all of the homework she plans on doing and unable to settle on what to do next, grabs for her phone.

She calls Tony's house. (Nothing special about that, either.)

Comments

[formoftherapy]

She drags her nails down his cheek, runs them over his lower lip.

"You wanna come for me?"

[toblameforit]

"Yessssss—"

[formoftherapy]

She hooks two fingers over his lip, slipping them just inside his mouth.

"I want you to, fuck do I want you to.

What do I have to do, Tony, what do you need me to do?"

[toblameforit]

He licks her fingertips, shaking a little.

"Faster," he gasps out, slurred by her fingers. "Ohfuckplease."

[formoftherapy]

She squeezes one of his hands on her hips. "Help me."

She shifts her weight, trying to move faster.

[toblameforit]

And he obeys, matching her rhythm with quick, shallow thrusts. His face is flushed, his eyes bright.

[formoftherapy]

"Oh fuck--"

She drags the pads of her fingers over his tongue.

"Oh fuck, that's it."

[if_inconvenient]

He wraps his lips around her fingers and moans helplessly.

Not long now.

[formoftherapy]

Kite moans in turn.

"Love your fucking mouth, run it all the goddamn time but it's so fucking sweet--"

[toblameforit]

Again that powerful shudder, not quite fear but close.

Not quite coming but close, he sucks her fingers into his mouth and runs his tongue up between them.

[formoftherapy]

Kite gasps.

"Want your fucking mouth after you come, please Tony, I want to feel it. I--"

She moves as fast as she can, rhythm breaking down in favor of speed.

[if_inconvenient]

Sherlock whimpers past her fingers—arches—tightens his hands on her hips—comes, gasping soundlessly.

[formoftherapy]

"Yes."

Kite rolls her hips. "That's it, honey."

She strokes her thumb along his jaw.

[if_inconvenient]

It takes him over and holds him for one long breath, then another; he shakes, digging his nails into her skin, utterly lost.

[formoftherapy]

She cries out, head falling back.

"Feel so fucking good, baby."

[if_inconvenient]

His breath huffs out all at once and his hands relax, sliding limply down her thighs to rest on the sheets.

[formoftherapy]

Kite lifts one of his hands to her mouth, kissing the palm and the tips of his fingers.

"How're you feeling?"

[if_inconvenient]

Eloquently: "Fuck."

[formoftherapy]

She laughs.

"Exactly."

[toblameforit]

After a moment, he laughs too.

"Shut up," he says fondly.

[formoftherapy]

Kite grins.

"Make me."

[toblameforit]

"Mm."

He wiggles a little.

"Weren't you saying something about my mouth a minute ago?"

[formoftherapy]

"Maybe."

She drums her nails in the middle of his chest.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

[toblameforit]

Brightly: "What are you gonna make me?"

[formoftherapy]

Her hand slides up, curls around the base of his throat.

"You think I need to make you? Telling me you don't want to?"