Fic: You Taste Like Paradise (Jensen/Danneel) Het NC-17
Hi to the new people on my list! I usually write slash, but I enjoy writing the occasional het fic as well, and I really had fun with this.
vinylroad, I don't know that it's exactly what you wanted, but this fic had a mind of its own. So. Here you go. ;D
Title: You Taste Like Paradise
Author:
aynslee
Pairing: Jensen/Danneel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 1,011
Beta:
leighm
Disclaimer: All fiction
Summary: PWP. Jensen's got ideas about how he wants to spend his evening...
Notes: This is for
vinylroad who wanted nerdy Danneel and not-so-nerdy Jensen.
Title from Borrowed Heaven, by the Corrs
You Taste Like Paradise
“I’m glad you found this place,” Jensen says as he pulls out of the Greek café parking lot. “I liked their hummus.”
Danneel smiles, nods absently. “Their Baklava was the best I’ve had.” She pulls her Newsweek from between the seats, flipping to the article on Gonzales’s resignation.
Jensen grins and runs his hand down her thigh, skimming his fingers under the edge of her dress. “The Baklava was good, but I know something else I’d rather eat.”
“Jensen!” Danneel doesn’t usually squeal, but god. That was just graphic. She coughs and squints down at the article, frowning at the headline. “Do you think the Attorney General-“
“Don’t wanna talk about politics right now.” He shifts his hand and lifts the edge of her panties, dipping one finger inside.
“What do you want to talk about?” she stammers, blushing, her cheeks turning from pink to red as he moves his fingers over her thigh and between her legs, rubbing lightly over her panties.
“I want to talk about this.” He rubs his finger over her clit, just the lightest of touches.
She shudders and the magazine falls from her hands, hitting the floorboard, pages fanning open next to her feet. Dammit. She can’t think when he does that, and it drives her crazy that he’s so composed.
He smirks.
***
By the time they’re back to his apartment, her panties are soaked.
“Want you so much,” he says, lying back on the bed and dragging her on top of him.
She shivers.
“I want you to sit on my face,” he whispers in her ear, voice low and deep.
She presses her cheek against his chest, feels the hard muscle underneath his shirt, listens to his heartbeat.
“I really want it,” he says, licking the edge of her ear this time.
She nods, the fabric of his shirt moving against her skin. “Shouldn’t I take a shower?” she asks.
He kisses her on the top of the head. “No, I want to taste you, not soap.”
He hugs her tight, arms around her chest, then flips her over, kissing all over her stomach and thighs as he pulls her panties off. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, lying down on his back again.
She moves to straddle him, and he’s got his hands on her hips, rubbing circles on her lower back, under her dress. He tugs her forward until her legs are spread over his chest, his hands still on her ass. “Little farther up, Danny. I can’t get to you way down there.”
She walks forward on her knees until she’s right over his face, and stumbles, knocking her head against the wall. He catches her before she topples over, but he doesn’t laugh, just steadies her with his arms. She sighs, trying to balance on the bed, the thick cream duvet soft under her knees.
She closes her eyes, can’t believe she’s doing this. It’s been so long since she wanted. But she does. She wants Jensen.
He flips the front of her dress up, runs his hands across her stomach. “Perfect,” he breathes, pulling her legs farther apart. He holds onto her hips, the edges of her dress caught in his fingers.
She leans forward, grips the headboard, looks down at him.
“So pretty.” He tilts his head back and smiles up at her. “This is right where I want you,” Jensen says, running one palm up and down, from her hip to her knee.
She flushes all the way down her arms and closes her eyes. She feels his fingers first, circling on her flesh.
“So wet,” he says, pushing one finger inside, gentle, easy.
She rests her head against the taupe paint of the wall, grips the headboard tighter.
He licks her then, a long, slow trail. His tongue is firm, pushing against her skin. His other hand moves up, caresses her elbow, cups the swell of her breast before letting go. The hem of her dress falls, flutters down over his face.
She moves against him, sinking lower onto his mouth, her cheek smashed against the wall. She opens her mouth to moan and leaves a smear of pink lip gloss behind.
“God, so good,” he says, voice muffled. “Taste so fucking good.”
The muscles in her legs tighten and shake as she rolls her hips, finds a rhythm, barely moving against his mouth as he fucks her with his tongue, one finger still inside. She can’t stop making little noises, more pants than whimpers.
He pulls away, kisses the inside of her thigh, nips the skin, grazing it with his teeth. He adds a second finger, not as soft and gentle, fucks her with them.
When he starts sucking on her clit, her stomach clenches; her abs go rigid. She tries to hold off, but he speeds up, curls his fingertips. She tenses all over, going quiet for a split second. He quits sucking, flicks his tongue.
She comes against his lips.
She can smell the paint, breathes it in, his fingers still moving inside her. She sighs and slumps forward, arms folding down onto the wooden headboard. She wrinkles her nose when she sees how wet his face is.
He picks her up and tucks her against his side, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, gives a lazy sigh.
“Do you need me to-“ she motions toward his pants, but stops talking when she notices they’re unbuttoned, a dark spot across his navy-blue boxers.
“Nah,” he says, grinning. “Took care of it myself. Couldn’t resist with you spread out over me like that.”
She blushes and grins, snuggling into him, arranging her dress haphazardly over her legs.
vinylroad, I don't know that it's exactly what you wanted, but this fic had a mind of its own. So. Here you go. ;D
Title: You Taste Like Paradise
Author:
aynslee
Pairing: Jensen/Danneel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 1,011
Beta:
leighm
Disclaimer: All fiction
Summary: PWP. Jensen's got ideas about how he wants to spend his evening...
Notes: This is for
vinylroad who wanted nerdy Danneel and not-so-nerdy Jensen.
Title from Borrowed Heaven, by the Corrs
You Taste Like Paradise
“I’m glad you found this place,” Jensen says as he pulls out of the Greek café parking lot. “I liked their hummus.”
Danneel smiles, nods absently. “Their Baklava was the best I’ve had.” She pulls her Newsweek from between the seats, flipping to the article on Gonzales’s resignation.
Jensen grins and runs his hand down her thigh, skimming his fingers under the edge of her dress. “The Baklava was good, but I know something else I’d rather eat.”
“Jensen!” Danneel doesn’t usually squeal, but god. That was just graphic. She coughs and squints down at the article, frowning at the headline. “Do you think the Attorney General-“
“Don’t wanna talk about politics right now.” He shifts his hand and lifts the edge of her panties, dipping one finger inside.
“What do you want to talk about?” she stammers, blushing, her cheeks turning from pink to red as he moves his fingers over her thigh and between her legs, rubbing lightly over her panties.
“I want to talk about this.” He rubs his finger over her clit, just the lightest of touches.
She shudders and the magazine falls from her hands, hitting the floorboard, pages fanning open next to her feet. Dammit. She can’t think when he does that, and it drives her crazy that he’s so composed.
He smirks.
***
By the time they’re back to his apartment, her panties are soaked.
“Want you so much,” he says, lying back on the bed and dragging her on top of him.
She shivers.
“I want you to sit on my face,” he whispers in her ear, voice low and deep.
She presses her cheek against his chest, feels the hard muscle underneath his shirt, listens to his heartbeat.
“I really want it,” he says, licking the edge of her ear this time.
She nods, the fabric of his shirt moving against her skin. “Shouldn’t I take a shower?” she asks.
He kisses her on the top of the head. “No, I want to taste you, not soap.”
He hugs her tight, arms around her chest, then flips her over, kissing all over her stomach and thighs as he pulls her panties off. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, lying down on his back again.
She moves to straddle him, and he’s got his hands on her hips, rubbing circles on her lower back, under her dress. He tugs her forward until her legs are spread over his chest, his hands still on her ass. “Little farther up, Danny. I can’t get to you way down there.”
She walks forward on her knees until she’s right over his face, and stumbles, knocking her head against the wall. He catches her before she topples over, but he doesn’t laugh, just steadies her with his arms. She sighs, trying to balance on the bed, the thick cream duvet soft under her knees.
She closes her eyes, can’t believe she’s doing this. It’s been so long since she wanted. But she does. She wants Jensen.
He flips the front of her dress up, runs his hands across her stomach. “Perfect,” he breathes, pulling her legs farther apart. He holds onto her hips, the edges of her dress caught in his fingers.
She leans forward, grips the headboard, looks down at him.
“So pretty.” He tilts his head back and smiles up at her. “This is right where I want you,” Jensen says, running one palm up and down, from her hip to her knee.
She flushes all the way down her arms and closes her eyes. She feels his fingers first, circling on her flesh.
“So wet,” he says, pushing one finger inside, gentle, easy.
She rests her head against the taupe paint of the wall, grips the headboard tighter.
He licks her then, a long, slow trail. His tongue is firm, pushing against her skin. His other hand moves up, caresses her elbow, cups the swell of her breast before letting go. The hem of her dress falls, flutters down over his face.
She moves against him, sinking lower onto his mouth, her cheek smashed against the wall. She opens her mouth to moan and leaves a smear of pink lip gloss behind.
“God, so good,” he says, voice muffled. “Taste so fucking good.”
The muscles in her legs tighten and shake as she rolls her hips, finds a rhythm, barely moving against his mouth as he fucks her with his tongue, one finger still inside. She can’t stop making little noises, more pants than whimpers.
He pulls away, kisses the inside of her thigh, nips the skin, grazing it with his teeth. He adds a second finger, not as soft and gentle, fucks her with them.
When he starts sucking on her clit, her stomach clenches; her abs go rigid. She tries to hold off, but he speeds up, curls his fingertips. She tenses all over, going quiet for a split second. He quits sucking, flicks his tongue.
She comes against his lips.
She can smell the paint, breathes it in, his fingers still moving inside her. She sighs and slumps forward, arms folding down onto the wooden headboard. She wrinkles her nose when she sees how wet his face is.
He picks her up and tucks her against his side, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, gives a lazy sigh.
“Do you need me to-“ she motions toward his pants, but stops talking when she notices they’re unbuttoned, a dark spot across his navy-blue boxers.
“Nah,” he says, grinning. “Took care of it myself. Couldn’t resist with you spread out over me like that.”
She blushes and grins, snuggling into him, arranging her dress haphazardly over her legs.