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]

"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?"

[toblameforit]

The way he moans when her hand touches his neck says very clearly that he sure wants something.

[formoftherapy]

"Well."

She half laughs the word, cheeks flushing.

"Learn something new every day."

Her hand tightens slowly.

[toblameforit]

He just came half a minute ago and this is still turning him right the fuck on.

(It's something both of them are into. No problems with character here.)

[formoftherapy]

"What I'm not clear on," she muses, "is how this is going to help me."

Her grip gets (slowly, steadily) tighter still as she talks.

[toblameforit]

Unhelpfully, he whimpers.

[formoftherapy]

"Alternately--"

(Tighter.)

"--what do you want out of this? To almost black out? To black out?


For me to leave you here like that, for anyone to find?"