Under the Influence
Fandom: Gundam 00
Title: Under the Influence
Genre: Drama, Romance, smut
Characters: Allelujah/Sumeragi
Spoilers: Season 2
Rated: NC-17 (sex, alcohol)
Summary: The old drinking buddies share fine wine, old times, and a passion rekindled. (Written for the S2 kinkmeme)
Under the Influence
The silence threatened to drag on into infinite, with Sumeragi lost in a moment he could only begin to guess at. It had been a frank talk, one in which they had begun to bear their souls to one another, only for her to retreat into herself, her grief, a part of her she wouldn’t let anyone touch. Allelujah could respect that. He wouldn’t force this. And yet...
“You may not feel as if you have any reason for coming back,” he began at length, his words measured and even, “but I’m grateful to have you here all the same.”
She stiffened visibly, her shoulders squaring. Even that nervous little habit-drawing a circle on the tabletop-had vanished. He had struck a chord. And yet the veil of hair didn’t vanish, obscuring her eyes. He wanted to gaze into those eyes.
If he was sober, he would have known he was acting inappropriately. If he hadn’t been incarcerated for four years, he wouldn’t have found the sight, the scent, the promise of her so intoxicating. If he hadn’t carried a flame for her ever since a moment of weakness borne of something distressingly similar, he wouldn’t have burned with something that made the sun look dim by comparison.
She didn’t flinch at his touch so much as she squirmed. The smooth material of his new gloves shocked her out of her ennui even as the other found a home in the small of her back, drawing her against him. Chocolate browns met two-tone.
“Allelujah…” It was something between a plea and a sigh. When she closed her eyes, long, lovely lashes fluttering in a way that seemed to invite him, it was the final straw.
Unsure lips met hers, each savoring the lingering taste of wine and the other’s natural scent. Domino effect. Her hands were wandering his scalp, threading their way through his silky hair. He was all but crushing her against him in a carnal desire to be as close to her as possible, relishing in the sensation of her curves against him. She all but panted against him whenever their lips separated, sometimes begins him to touch her here or lose that article of clothing.
Somewhere in the haze of lust and alcohol and old wounds and a million other things that made this moment more addictive than any opiate, everything just had to go wrong. They were running at breakneck speeds, so it was only a matter of time before they fell flat on their faces. And that’s almost exactly how it happened.
It struck Sumeragi as a good idea to jump on Allelujah, wrapping her legs around his waist in a hip hug that would have been incredibly sexy if he had anything resembling balance at that point. But Allelujah was very drunk.
He landed on his elbow, trying to brace their fall. She landed in her knees, wrapped around his body as they were. A simultaneous hiss escaped their mouths at the sudden stinging sensation. Everything just fell into focus at that.
There she was, topless if not for the bra her young lover had nearly torn to shreds in his desire, her pants slipping down her hips after she yanked off her belt. And there he was, half-out of his jacket, one arm waving, his undershirt pushed to resemble something similar to a noose if she continued tugging at it so incessantly. He had lost a boot somewhere in the fray.
It took her all of half of a second to burst into raucous laughter at the absurdity of it all. Here they were, the scourge of the known world, and they were acting like a pair of horny teenagers in the back seat of someone’s car on prom night. And then he was laughing, too, a smooth tenor that reminded her of chimes. But when she looked down at him-really looked-and saw those bronzed, sculpted abs rolling like waves upon the sea, she didn’t feel like laughing anymore.
“Allelujah Haptism!”
Both topper and toppee nearly jumped clean out of their skins at the intruding voice. It was accompanied by a string of digital beeps, then a harsh electrical rejection. The voice returned.
“Allelujah Haptism!” Oh, God, that was Tieria. Sumeragi silently thanked whoever it was who designed the ship for having the foresight of installing lock codes in the doors. “You need to rendezvous with Ian Vashti in the hangar. He needs feedback on the Arios Gundam’s maiden sortie for future reference.”
“Of course,” the half-dressed Gundam Meister responded at length, trying to keep the drunken chuckles out of his voice. This was far too surreal.
Silence. More silence.
“I think he’s gone.” Allelujah pointed out lamely, feeling both horrified and amused at the near-disaster.
“We really are hopeless,” she sighed in a sad, sweet sort of way, planting a kiss on the bridge of his nose.
“Mmmm,” his voice rumbled in his chest as he rubbed a circle between her shoulder blades.
“I didn’t say we had to stop.”
It was a return to basics, each tearing at the other’s clothes like vultures more than lovers. But it suited them.
The world stopped flying by just long enough for something of grave importance to occur to Allelujah.
“I don’t have protection.”
“It’s alright,” she drew him toward her, coaxing his hips toward hers with her legs again. “You don’t need any…not today.”
He didn’t know what to make of that. Was that to say it was a good time of month for this sort of thing? Or was it something of a more emotional statement, an implication that she was willing to accept the consequences of their coupling?
But with her stretched out before him in all her glory, all porcelain skin and sultry looks that would have scorched the sun, it was no wonder his worries evaporated.
It took every ounce of Sumeragi’s strength not to cry out in a mingling of ecstasy and agony as Allelujah entered her, all hard and unyielding and long and merciless and oh dear God
“Do you want me to pull out?” He slurred worriedly. He was still relatively inexperienced in the language of physical love, unable to read between pain and pleasure at times. The sharp click of Sumeragi’s teeth coming together to stifle a shriek didn’t strike him as a good thing, though.
“Just stay still for a minute,” she did her best to steady her voice. In hindsight, she couldn’t see how she had been so stupid. She was oh-so-willing, but not quite ready. For all of Allelujah’s ravishing good looks, picture perfect body, and heart-melting sweetness, she should have wrung a bit more foreplay out of him. Her lubrication had fallen behind her desire. It was perhaps the only time in her life she would think Allelujah was too well-endowed.
He did his best to settle into a comfortable position and resist the urge to plunge into her with reckless abandon. Instead, he cupped one of her full breasts in his hand, thumb gliding along the nipple. Her fingers twisted through his hair again, hot lips caressing his ear in a fiercely whispered “Yes.”
And then, “Kiss me.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. Her tongue came into the equation before long, prodding his as if in challenge. Saliva that still held wine mingled between the two in a dirty, sloppy, wonderful mess. Suddenly, all the intervening years of gray and dead fell away. The time spent drinking herself to death with Billy vanished in a flood of something that never should have been denied. The torture and the loneliness of imprisonment shrunk away in terror against tender feelings long thought dead, now risen in something nothing short of miraculous.
“Please, Allelujah,” she broke the kiss at long last, eyes searching his with an ache that couldn’t be put into words. “Please.”
He entered her fully. She squealed against him, closed lips vibrating against his collar bone, while he stuttered a groan into her hair. They had needed this almost as badly as they needed air.
And that was just the beginning of it.
He slid back. Her nails cut long, crimson bands down his back at the sensation of his glans tugging at the walls of her sex. It was his turn to bite back an epithet. It was not entirely out of anger. On some level, he had to admit he found the sensation erotic. Everything about her was alluring. It was in the nails that raked him, the legs that locked behind him to make sure he didn’t pull out (as if that would happen), the breasts that heaved and pitched like a city on a fault line. That gave him an idea.
He took a nipple into his mouth, shifting to do that even as he continued to move against her.
That bastard. He had to know she was trying to keep quiet. Even if they could lock themselves in the room, they couldn’t keep the sounds of their sloppy lovemaking contained. If Tieria were to return-or Ian, or Feldt or Mileina (oh, the therapy bills)-she would die of the shame. Yet he was obviously doing everything in his power to make her say his name.
She was able to release the death grip on the back of his head long enough to reach down along his rippling stretch of muscles to tweak a nipple. He released hers, hot breath tingling against her slick breast. She took a fistful of hair and used it to guide his mouth back to its proper place against hers, their lips smashing together.
In spite of it all, the two of them were really hopeless romantics. So it really wasn’t surprising that slow march to climax suddenly took to a running dash as they locked lips. They may have been satisfying their most basic desire, but there was more to the moment than a union of thighs and hips. The kiss wasn’t a swapping of spit so much as it was a trading of sentiment, an unspoken promise.
His lips trembled in a moan, breaking the lip lock. He knew what was coming. Yet when he attempted to disengage, her legs and her sex became a pair of vices, all but paralyzing him. He was as deep as he could possibly go.
“Sumeragi,” his voice was almost pained in its desperation.
If she heard him, she didn’t make it known.
She held on for dear life, shivering at the sensations that ripped through her. Toes curling, eyes watering even as they shut themselves tight, teeth grinding. It was without rhyme or reason. It was the best thing in the world.
When Allelujah pressed his lips into her scalp, cursing into her hair, it got better. He felt every part of him go numb save for one spot in that moment, convulsing wildly inside of her as he achieved that sweet release. She couldn’t take it anymore, not the hardness, the way it quaked and spasmed against her squeezing walls, or the heat that filled the deepest part of her.
So she bit him.
Her teeth found a nice, hard spot on his shoulder, digging in deep to suffocate what would have been his name in her orgasmic haze. He groaned, only to stuff his face into her hair. He inhaled her scent deeply and expelled the breath violently against her scalp, howling her name into her soft hair.
After the last spasms of her sex and the last drop left his, he found the strength to pull out. It was accompanied by an organic, even obscene sound. And then they were laughing themselves silly again, the unspoken oath of silence broken as if it had never been.
At some point, they realized it might be a good idea to go about their day. They collected their clothes again, smoothing out the wrinkles. She thanked him for the wine. He was thankful for the ear she had leant them.
Allelujah walked her back to the room, making small talk. He was suddenly reminded of why they had opted not to make sex a regular part of their routine after the first lapse. This was so awkward.
Yet, when she finally reached her door and favored him with a kiss on the cheek, he became acutely aware of how little any of that mattered.
The door slid shut with a hiss of hydraulics, leaving Allelujah with a memory and a smile. He hoped they would be the first of many.
Title: Under the Influence
Genre: Drama, Romance, smut
Characters: Allelujah/Sumeragi
Spoilers: Season 2
Rated: NC-17 (sex, alcohol)
Summary: The old drinking buddies share fine wine, old times, and a passion rekindled. (Written for the S2 kinkmeme)
Under the Influence
The silence threatened to drag on into infinite, with Sumeragi lost in a moment he could only begin to guess at. It had been a frank talk, one in which they had begun to bear their souls to one another, only for her to retreat into herself, her grief, a part of her she wouldn’t let anyone touch. Allelujah could respect that. He wouldn’t force this. And yet...
“You may not feel as if you have any reason for coming back,” he began at length, his words measured and even, “but I’m grateful to have you here all the same.”
She stiffened visibly, her shoulders squaring. Even that nervous little habit-drawing a circle on the tabletop-had vanished. He had struck a chord. And yet the veil of hair didn’t vanish, obscuring her eyes. He wanted to gaze into those eyes.
If he was sober, he would have known he was acting inappropriately. If he hadn’t been incarcerated for four years, he wouldn’t have found the sight, the scent, the promise of her so intoxicating. If he hadn’t carried a flame for her ever since a moment of weakness borne of something distressingly similar, he wouldn’t have burned with something that made the sun look dim by comparison.
She didn’t flinch at his touch so much as she squirmed. The smooth material of his new gloves shocked her out of her ennui even as the other found a home in the small of her back, drawing her against him. Chocolate browns met two-tone.
“Allelujah…” It was something between a plea and a sigh. When she closed her eyes, long, lovely lashes fluttering in a way that seemed to invite him, it was the final straw.
Unsure lips met hers, each savoring the lingering taste of wine and the other’s natural scent. Domino effect. Her hands were wandering his scalp, threading their way through his silky hair. He was all but crushing her against him in a carnal desire to be as close to her as possible, relishing in the sensation of her curves against him. She all but panted against him whenever their lips separated, sometimes begins him to touch her here or lose that article of clothing.
Somewhere in the haze of lust and alcohol and old wounds and a million other things that made this moment more addictive than any opiate, everything just had to go wrong. They were running at breakneck speeds, so it was only a matter of time before they fell flat on their faces. And that’s almost exactly how it happened.
It struck Sumeragi as a good idea to jump on Allelujah, wrapping her legs around his waist in a hip hug that would have been incredibly sexy if he had anything resembling balance at that point. But Allelujah was very drunk.
He landed on his elbow, trying to brace their fall. She landed in her knees, wrapped around his body as they were. A simultaneous hiss escaped their mouths at the sudden stinging sensation. Everything just fell into focus at that.
There she was, topless if not for the bra her young lover had nearly torn to shreds in his desire, her pants slipping down her hips after she yanked off her belt. And there he was, half-out of his jacket, one arm waving, his undershirt pushed to resemble something similar to a noose if she continued tugging at it so incessantly. He had lost a boot somewhere in the fray.
It took her all of half of a second to burst into raucous laughter at the absurdity of it all. Here they were, the scourge of the known world, and they were acting like a pair of horny teenagers in the back seat of someone’s car on prom night. And then he was laughing, too, a smooth tenor that reminded her of chimes. But when she looked down at him-really looked-and saw those bronzed, sculpted abs rolling like waves upon the sea, she didn’t feel like laughing anymore.
“Allelujah Haptism!”
Both topper and toppee nearly jumped clean out of their skins at the intruding voice. It was accompanied by a string of digital beeps, then a harsh electrical rejection. The voice returned.
“Allelujah Haptism!” Oh, God, that was Tieria. Sumeragi silently thanked whoever it was who designed the ship for having the foresight of installing lock codes in the doors. “You need to rendezvous with Ian Vashti in the hangar. He needs feedback on the Arios Gundam’s maiden sortie for future reference.”
“Of course,” the half-dressed Gundam Meister responded at length, trying to keep the drunken chuckles out of his voice. This was far too surreal.
Silence. More silence.
“I think he’s gone.” Allelujah pointed out lamely, feeling both horrified and amused at the near-disaster.
“We really are hopeless,” she sighed in a sad, sweet sort of way, planting a kiss on the bridge of his nose.
“Mmmm,” his voice rumbled in his chest as he rubbed a circle between her shoulder blades.
“I didn’t say we had to stop.”
It was a return to basics, each tearing at the other’s clothes like vultures more than lovers. But it suited them.
The world stopped flying by just long enough for something of grave importance to occur to Allelujah.
“I don’t have protection.”
“It’s alright,” she drew him toward her, coaxing his hips toward hers with her legs again. “You don’t need any…not today.”
He didn’t know what to make of that. Was that to say it was a good time of month for this sort of thing? Or was it something of a more emotional statement, an implication that she was willing to accept the consequences of their coupling?
But with her stretched out before him in all her glory, all porcelain skin and sultry looks that would have scorched the sun, it was no wonder his worries evaporated.
It took every ounce of Sumeragi’s strength not to cry out in a mingling of ecstasy and agony as Allelujah entered her, all hard and unyielding and long and merciless and oh dear God
“Do you want me to pull out?” He slurred worriedly. He was still relatively inexperienced in the language of physical love, unable to read between pain and pleasure at times. The sharp click of Sumeragi’s teeth coming together to stifle a shriek didn’t strike him as a good thing, though.
“Just stay still for a minute,” she did her best to steady her voice. In hindsight, she couldn’t see how she had been so stupid. She was oh-so-willing, but not quite ready. For all of Allelujah’s ravishing good looks, picture perfect body, and heart-melting sweetness, she should have wrung a bit more foreplay out of him. Her lubrication had fallen behind her desire. It was perhaps the only time in her life she would think Allelujah was too well-endowed.
He did his best to settle into a comfortable position and resist the urge to plunge into her with reckless abandon. Instead, he cupped one of her full breasts in his hand, thumb gliding along the nipple. Her fingers twisted through his hair again, hot lips caressing his ear in a fiercely whispered “Yes.”
And then, “Kiss me.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. Her tongue came into the equation before long, prodding his as if in challenge. Saliva that still held wine mingled between the two in a dirty, sloppy, wonderful mess. Suddenly, all the intervening years of gray and dead fell away. The time spent drinking herself to death with Billy vanished in a flood of something that never should have been denied. The torture and the loneliness of imprisonment shrunk away in terror against tender feelings long thought dead, now risen in something nothing short of miraculous.
“Please, Allelujah,” she broke the kiss at long last, eyes searching his with an ache that couldn’t be put into words. “Please.”
He entered her fully. She squealed against him, closed lips vibrating against his collar bone, while he stuttered a groan into her hair. They had needed this almost as badly as they needed air.
And that was just the beginning of it.
He slid back. Her nails cut long, crimson bands down his back at the sensation of his glans tugging at the walls of her sex. It was his turn to bite back an epithet. It was not entirely out of anger. On some level, he had to admit he found the sensation erotic. Everything about her was alluring. It was in the nails that raked him, the legs that locked behind him to make sure he didn’t pull out (as if that would happen), the breasts that heaved and pitched like a city on a fault line. That gave him an idea.
He took a nipple into his mouth, shifting to do that even as he continued to move against her.
That bastard. He had to know she was trying to keep quiet. Even if they could lock themselves in the room, they couldn’t keep the sounds of their sloppy lovemaking contained. If Tieria were to return-or Ian, or Feldt or Mileina (oh, the therapy bills)-she would die of the shame. Yet he was obviously doing everything in his power to make her say his name.
She was able to release the death grip on the back of his head long enough to reach down along his rippling stretch of muscles to tweak a nipple. He released hers, hot breath tingling against her slick breast. She took a fistful of hair and used it to guide his mouth back to its proper place against hers, their lips smashing together.
In spite of it all, the two of them were really hopeless romantics. So it really wasn’t surprising that slow march to climax suddenly took to a running dash as they locked lips. They may have been satisfying their most basic desire, but there was more to the moment than a union of thighs and hips. The kiss wasn’t a swapping of spit so much as it was a trading of sentiment, an unspoken promise.
His lips trembled in a moan, breaking the lip lock. He knew what was coming. Yet when he attempted to disengage, her legs and her sex became a pair of vices, all but paralyzing him. He was as deep as he could possibly go.
“Sumeragi,” his voice was almost pained in its desperation.
If she heard him, she didn’t make it known.
She held on for dear life, shivering at the sensations that ripped through her. Toes curling, eyes watering even as they shut themselves tight, teeth grinding. It was without rhyme or reason. It was the best thing in the world.
When Allelujah pressed his lips into her scalp, cursing into her hair, it got better. He felt every part of him go numb save for one spot in that moment, convulsing wildly inside of her as he achieved that sweet release. She couldn’t take it anymore, not the hardness, the way it quaked and spasmed against her squeezing walls, or the heat that filled the deepest part of her.
So she bit him.
Her teeth found a nice, hard spot on his shoulder, digging in deep to suffocate what would have been his name in her orgasmic haze. He groaned, only to stuff his face into her hair. He inhaled her scent deeply and expelled the breath violently against her scalp, howling her name into her soft hair.
After the last spasms of her sex and the last drop left his, he found the strength to pull out. It was accompanied by an organic, even obscene sound. And then they were laughing themselves silly again, the unspoken oath of silence broken as if it had never been.
At some point, they realized it might be a good idea to go about their day. They collected their clothes again, smoothing out the wrinkles. She thanked him for the wine. He was thankful for the ear she had leant them.
Allelujah walked her back to the room, making small talk. He was suddenly reminded of why they had opted not to make sex a regular part of their routine after the first lapse. This was so awkward.
Yet, when she finally reached her door and favored him with a kiss on the cheek, he became acutely aware of how little any of that mattered.
The door slid shut with a hiss of hydraulics, leaving Allelujah with a memory and a smile. He hoped they would be the first of many.