[fic] confession; dollhouse, claire/topher; pg13
title; rating: confession; pg13
fandom, pairing; count: dollhouse, claire/topher; 240
notes: for the prompt haircut at the labor day comment fic celebration
"Do you trust me?"
She says it with a smirk.
Topher can feel the cool blade of the shears against his cheek and he takes in a shaky breath. "Not even a little bit," he says.
Claire leans in, taking a handful of his hair and bringing her lips to his ear with a tug. "Good," she says, her voice a husky tease.
Every crisp click of the blades sends a shiver down Topher's spine. He grips the arms of the chair and closes his eyes. Claire's fingers brush against his neck, tickle his ears, run through his hair, and the fear that settles in Topher's stomach does nothing to stop him from getting hard at those gentle touches. In fact, it only fuels it.
She laughs, tells him he looks miserable, and crawls into his lap, straddling him. Topher can hear the sound of the scissors falling to the floor and he gasps when she grinds into him, his eyes bursting open.
"Confess your sins, Topher," she says. And then she leans in to whisper, "This isn't a dream."
He grips her waist then, presses his lips into hers, tasting her for the first time. She laughs again, pulling back to let his mouth travel down the length of her neck.
"Do you trust me?" She says it into the air this time, with no hint of humor.
Topher pulls away, but only for a second.
"With my life."
-fin
fandom, pairing; count: dollhouse, claire/topher; 240
notes: for the prompt haircut at the labor day comment fic celebration
"Do you trust me?"
She says it with a smirk.
Topher can feel the cool blade of the shears against his cheek and he takes in a shaky breath. "Not even a little bit," he says.
Claire leans in, taking a handful of his hair and bringing her lips to his ear with a tug. "Good," she says, her voice a husky tease.
Every crisp click of the blades sends a shiver down Topher's spine. He grips the arms of the chair and closes his eyes. Claire's fingers brush against his neck, tickle his ears, run through his hair, and the fear that settles in Topher's stomach does nothing to stop him from getting hard at those gentle touches. In fact, it only fuels it.
She laughs, tells him he looks miserable, and crawls into his lap, straddling him. Topher can hear the sound of the scissors falling to the floor and he gasps when she grinds into him, his eyes bursting open.
"Confess your sins, Topher," she says. And then she leans in to whisper, "This isn't a dream."
He grips her waist then, presses his lips into hers, tasting her for the first time. She laughs again, pulling back to let his mouth travel down the length of her neck.
"Do you trust me?" She says it into the air this time, with no hint of humor.
Topher pulls away, but only for a second.
"With my life."
-fin