Need
Title: Need
Author: Georgia_v_g
Rating: NC-17
And again a one-shot. Chris Meloni and Mariska Hargitay are obviously not mine. Please note that this is fiction and only fiction.
With them it’s not about love. It’s not about comfort or seeking sanctuary from an unhappy marriage either. It’s pure attraction, mutual animalistic appeal.
He makes her feel alive when he rips off her clothes and sends her to heaven when he frantically pumps into her. She loves it when he fucks her but she doesn’t love him. Not in that way.
He is the best friend and the lover, the cocky co-star, her dirty little secret. She thinks Chris is something that’s just for her, something that keeps her sane and balanced when everything around her is crazy, spinning and twirling until she gets lost. She’s strong, giving and understanding, good looking, too, and all she ever hears or reads about herself is ‘amazing’, ‘beautiful’, ‘charming’ and ‘oh so lovely’. But she’s not just that, she thinks. There’s more to her. She is strong but every now and then she breaks. She is giving and understanding but she has her selfish moments. She considers herself fairly attractive but not beautiful. She likes it when Chris tells her she’s pretty much more than him calling her beautiful because pretty sounds so damn superficial. It suits her. It does.
Her son is on her lap, his small body molded to hers as he sleeps peacefully, his head rested against her shoulder. She checks her phone. Twenty more minutes until they can finally board.
She misses him. She misses his body.
They don’t make love. Ever. There are no sweet kisses, no gentle touches or slow strokes. With them lips are bruising, teeth clashing. It’s scratching and biting, pushing and pulling. He takes her and uses her just as she uses him. It works for them. It works for her.
She gets up from her seat. August is tucked securely against her. He doesn’t notice and keeps on sleeping, breathing against his mother’s neck. Her son makes her feel whole, complete. Not even Chris can give her what the little boy provides.
A stewardess shows Mariska to their seats in the business class. She fumbles for her phone again to switch it to flight mode but types in a message before she does.
Mariska (mobile)
10 tonight. My place.
She doesn’t wait for a reply and puts the phone back into her oversized handbag.
+++++
She isn’t nervous because it’s not the first time she invites him to her penthouse to fuck. She hates to meet him at hotels because it’s too obvious. She has that irrational fear that everyone would know just what they are doing. She likes their dressing rooms best because it feels like home there. Their home. They don’t need much more than that and ten minutes to make it work.
She hates herself each time she asks him to come here but it doesn’t mean it’s enough to stop her. She wishes she would use her brain instead of her pussy only once.
He’s all over her once the door is closed. His mouth bruises hers, their tongues battling for control. He pushes her against the door and she gasps from the impact that hurts like a bitch.
“Fuck,” she mutters but he silences her, sucking her lower lip into his mouth.
Chris’ hand is under her thin sweater. He palms her right breast and squeezes before he pushes her bra up to feel the plump mound against his skin. She presses against him, desperately searching more contact. Seconds later her sweater comes off, along with her white bra.
He sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin of her neck and scrapes his teeth down to her breasts. He’s careful not to leave a mark and has the right pressure figured out. They’ve learned how to do this without leaving evidence for their spouses to find.
She cries out when his teeth catch her nipple for him to suck on it and bucks her hips against him. She’s wet and ready and she doesn’t want to waste more time. Her hands find his belt.
Surprisingly he doesn’t fuck her against the door and leads her to the coffee table. He takes her from behind as she supports herself and holds on to the piece of furniture. His index- and middle finger are pressed against her clit, rubbing and circling as he thrust into her. It hurts but it’s oh so good, she thinks she never wants him to stop.
She whimpers, cries out when he hits something that is sure not her G-spot but it’s alright. With him anything goes.
“Harder,” she demands although she knows that she shouldn’t. She’s going to hurt in the morning. It already burns like hell.
Chris complies, pumps into her harder with specific strokes until he comes with a groan. He rubs at her faster and feels her inner walls clench around him seconds later.
It’s all good now. She feels better.
Mariska sits down on the couch and watches Chris gather up their clothes. He throws hers at her and she only puts the sweater and panties back on.
“Thanks for coming.” Her voice is still thick with arousal.
“Thanks for having me,” he grins.
“Nah, I was selfish and you know it. But then again this could be my late birthday present.” She smiles and rests her head against the cushions of her sofa.
“If anything this was part of your birthday present.”
“Even better,” she laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“Doesn’t sound like Pete took good care of you.” He’s teasing her and she knows it so this time it doesn’t offend her. They don’t talk about Peter or Sherman.
“Shut up.” She throws her bra at him, laughing. He catches it.
“I’d prefer your panties, you know. Any chance I can take those home?” He points at her underwear and she seems to contemplate this. Eventually, she wiggles out of her panties and holds them up.
“Don’t do anything filthy with ‘em,” she tells him in all seriousness before throwing them at him. “And now get outta here, I need some sleep.”
He puts on his cocky grin and shoves her white underwear into the pocket of his denim.
“See you tomorrow.”
Author: Georgia_v_g
Rating: NC-17
And again a one-shot. Chris Meloni and Mariska Hargitay are obviously not mine. Please note that this is fiction and only fiction.
With them it’s not about love. It’s not about comfort or seeking sanctuary from an unhappy marriage either. It’s pure attraction, mutual animalistic appeal.
He makes her feel alive when he rips off her clothes and sends her to heaven when he frantically pumps into her. She loves it when he fucks her but she doesn’t love him. Not in that way.
He is the best friend and the lover, the cocky co-star, her dirty little secret. She thinks Chris is something that’s just for her, something that keeps her sane and balanced when everything around her is crazy, spinning and twirling until she gets lost. She’s strong, giving and understanding, good looking, too, and all she ever hears or reads about herself is ‘amazing’, ‘beautiful’, ‘charming’ and ‘oh so lovely’. But she’s not just that, she thinks. There’s more to her. She is strong but every now and then she breaks. She is giving and understanding but she has her selfish moments. She considers herself fairly attractive but not beautiful. She likes it when Chris tells her she’s pretty much more than him calling her beautiful because pretty sounds so damn superficial. It suits her. It does.
Her son is on her lap, his small body molded to hers as he sleeps peacefully, his head rested against her shoulder. She checks her phone. Twenty more minutes until they can finally board.
She misses him. She misses his body.
They don’t make love. Ever. There are no sweet kisses, no gentle touches or slow strokes. With them lips are bruising, teeth clashing. It’s scratching and biting, pushing and pulling. He takes her and uses her just as she uses him. It works for them. It works for her.
She gets up from her seat. August is tucked securely against her. He doesn’t notice and keeps on sleeping, breathing against his mother’s neck. Her son makes her feel whole, complete. Not even Chris can give her what the little boy provides.
A stewardess shows Mariska to their seats in the business class. She fumbles for her phone again to switch it to flight mode but types in a message before she does.
Mariska (mobile)
10 tonight. My place.
She doesn’t wait for a reply and puts the phone back into her oversized handbag.
+++++
She isn’t nervous because it’s not the first time she invites him to her penthouse to fuck. She hates to meet him at hotels because it’s too obvious. She has that irrational fear that everyone would know just what they are doing. She likes their dressing rooms best because it feels like home there. Their home. They don’t need much more than that and ten minutes to make it work.
She hates herself each time she asks him to come here but it doesn’t mean it’s enough to stop her. She wishes she would use her brain instead of her pussy only once.
He’s all over her once the door is closed. His mouth bruises hers, their tongues battling for control. He pushes her against the door and she gasps from the impact that hurts like a bitch.
“Fuck,” she mutters but he silences her, sucking her lower lip into his mouth.
Chris’ hand is under her thin sweater. He palms her right breast and squeezes before he pushes her bra up to feel the plump mound against his skin. She presses against him, desperately searching more contact. Seconds later her sweater comes off, along with her white bra.
He sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin of her neck and scrapes his teeth down to her breasts. He’s careful not to leave a mark and has the right pressure figured out. They’ve learned how to do this without leaving evidence for their spouses to find.
She cries out when his teeth catch her nipple for him to suck on it and bucks her hips against him. She’s wet and ready and she doesn’t want to waste more time. Her hands find his belt.
Surprisingly he doesn’t fuck her against the door and leads her to the coffee table. He takes her from behind as she supports herself and holds on to the piece of furniture. His index- and middle finger are pressed against her clit, rubbing and circling as he thrust into her. It hurts but it’s oh so good, she thinks she never wants him to stop.
She whimpers, cries out when he hits something that is sure not her G-spot but it’s alright. With him anything goes.
“Harder,” she demands although she knows that she shouldn’t. She’s going to hurt in the morning. It already burns like hell.
Chris complies, pumps into her harder with specific strokes until he comes with a groan. He rubs at her faster and feels her inner walls clench around him seconds later.
It’s all good now. She feels better.
Mariska sits down on the couch and watches Chris gather up their clothes. He throws hers at her and she only puts the sweater and panties back on.
“Thanks for coming.” Her voice is still thick with arousal.
“Thanks for having me,” he grins.
“Nah, I was selfish and you know it. But then again this could be my late birthday present.” She smiles and rests her head against the cushions of her sofa.
“If anything this was part of your birthday present.”
“Even better,” she laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
“Doesn’t sound like Pete took good care of you.” He’s teasing her and she knows it so this time it doesn’t offend her. They don’t talk about Peter or Sherman.
“Shut up.” She throws her bra at him, laughing. He catches it.
“I’d prefer your panties, you know. Any chance I can take those home?” He points at her underwear and she seems to contemplate this. Eventually, she wiggles out of her panties and holds them up.
“Don’t do anything filthy with ‘em,” she tells him in all seriousness before throwing them at him. “And now get outta here, I need some sleep.”
He puts on his cocky grin and shoves her white underwear into the pocket of his denim.
“See you tomorrow.”