A Sorta Fairytale Part 2

[icitall]

Title: A Sorta Fairytale

Author: ICitAll

Rating: NC17

Summary: “…he finds himself staring at Elizabeth again and to be honest, this entire lack of self control thing is getting old…”

Part 2

They almost die, all of them, his entire team. They’re captured, interrogated, beaten but Elizabeth sends reinforcements. Sends help and saves them.

After Beckett finally released them from the infirmary John went straight to his quarters, showered under scorching hot water and fell into bed naked and exhausted.

So when the bell chimes at his door it takes forever to draw him from his deep dreamless sleep. He’s barely conscious, his eyes still closed when he hears the door hiss open and John is so tired that even if someone came into kill him right now he’d be dead meat.

The door shuts and John pries his eyes open, blurry vision trying to decipher the form coming towards him in the darkness but then he blinks and Elizabeth kneels down beside his bed and into the patch of moonlight that splashes through his window.

“Hey.” He breathes and she smiles and it looks like she’s been crying. She sniffles and he knows she has.

“Hey.” She gives him a watery smile and John rolls from his back to his side, reaching out to cup her face.

“You’re okay?” She asks quietly and despite the bruises he nods and smiles, the action making his blackened eye hurt.

“I’m good.” John can feel himself slipping beneath the swell of sleep and Elizabeth grips his hand, pressing her lips to his palm.

He closes his eyes for a second, just a second and when John opens them again Elizabeth is still beside him but hours have passed and her head is resting on the mattress and she’s fast asleep.

His limbs feel heavy but he drags his hand through her hair, curls tangling around his knuckles and she takes a slow deep breath but doesn’t wake. She must be uncomfortable, curled up on the hard floor so he whispers

“Elizabeth.” And touches the cools skin of her neck making dark eyelashes flutter, then she’s peering up at him silently. “C’mon.” he mutters then he’s slowly sitting up in bed, wincing as tight muscles and bruises come to life but he ignores it and guides her to her feet.

He’s acutely aware of his nudity, only a thin blanket pooled around his hips conserves his modesty.

She stands in front of him and his shaky hands come up to the hem of her red shirt and he’s pushing it up exposing the soft milky skin of her abdomen. He watches her muscles jump under his touch but then her fingers are meeting his and drawing her shirt the rest of the way off, dropping it on the floor.

He swallows as he presses his forehead against her stomach, feels her trembling and warm and grips her waist, drags his mouth hot and wet against her navel, listening to her gasp.

Her hips buck towards him and her hands come down to tangle in his hair and he sighs because he just has to breathe. He wants to settle into this moment.

Her hands pull away from his hair and he watches up close while she fumbles with the clasp of her pants. Has to squeeze his eyes shut while she pushes them down over her slim hips then steps out of them. His chest feels inexplicably tight, and he’s dragging air into his lungs while he looks up at her and she’s so fucking beautiful in only modest black underwear and bra.

She smiles tiredly and he presses his hands, hot against the back of her naked thighs.

“C’mon. Lie down.” He urges, sliding back in the bed to make room for her. He lifts the blanket for her and she looks at him, then his body and he knows she can see he’s hard for her but she doesn’t hesitate, moving to lie beside him beneath the blanket.

She yawns and so does he and he watches her blink slow and heavy and knows she didn’t sleep all that time he was gone.

“Go to sleep baby.” He mutters drowsily but he’s asleep again before she is.

John keeps losing time and when he wakes up again grey pre-dawn light is flooding his room and beside him Elizabeth is asleep, face down on his bed with one arm hanging off of the edge of his small mattress.

The blanket is riding low on her hips and he reaches over to trace the long sinewy muscles in her back, his fingernails scraping against the dusting of freckles at the base of her spine. He fingers the straps of her  black bra before moving to unhook the strap across her back when he realizes that she’s staring at him, lips parted and pink and suddenly he feels terrified and awkward and the feeling is confusing because sex has never been like this, he’s never been so anxious and afraid to do this with someone.

She rolls onto her back, pulling the bra from her arms and then he’s staring at her bare breasts. He touches her stomach, his hand seemingly massive where it splays across her ribs, pushing upwards until he’s cupping her breast, thumbing her nipple and she gasps softly pushing her head back into his pillow.

He keeps touching her because he can, because he wants to and soon he’s leveling himself up over her slowly, resting in the cradle of her hips and mouthing her breast religiously and the sight of his dog tags hanging from his neck, resting against her sternum does something to him.

She’s breathing hard beneath him, her hips rising, rotating and grinding against his hardness and he pushes back against her. He can’t believe he’s doing this; that they’re doing this and he pulls away from her soft skin to kiss her hard and wet. And when John manages to pull away, to grab a breath, she makes this sound, this fucking strangled moan while her thighs tighten around his hips and he has to press his forehead against her shoulder and breathe and refocus.

“Are-are you okay?” Elizabeth asks breathlessly her palms sliding down his back, her fingers stroking the natural lines of muscle. “Am I hurting you?” And he shakes his head, looking up at her.

“No.” he murmurs and then his mouth is on her skin again, his unshaven face rasping and reddening her skin while his teeth scrape against the hollow of her throat before moving lower and lower and lower.

When John looks up she’s watching him quietly, her chest moving rapidly while her right hand slides around to the nape of his neck, the other gripping the pillow beneath her head.

John is use to trying to read Elizabeth, at looking into her eyes and being met with the immaculate masks she constantly wears but now, now, he gazes up at her, lips pressed to the hollow of her hip and she’s never been more clear, more comprehensible and in that one long gaze John knows, he knows he hasn’t been going through this complicated tangled mess to reach here, this place in time, alone.

She’s been with him all along.

He drags his eyes from hers and slides his hands beneath her, fingers curling into the waistband of her panties and then he’s rolling them down carefully before loosing them in the sheets.

Elizabeth is quiet and for being someone not afraid to speak her opinion or question someone or thing and John knows that she’s a little afraid because he is even as he shoulders his way between her thighs.

“Is this okay?” he asks and she nods quickly, licking her lips in what John hopes is anticipation. He bites at her inner thigh, probably too hard but her hips buck and she moans a little so he does it again and her hand tightens against the back of his head. He takes a deep breath and though John is shaking and nervous he wants to make Elizabeth feel good.

The first lap of his tongue drags a cry from her throat, his tongue sliding from her clit to nearly her ass causing her hips to lift off of the mattress.

“Oh, God.” She swallows quietly while he eagerly laps at her, his hands tight on her hips while she fists a hand in his unruly hair. He circles her clit idly, using his fingers to splay her open to him while he meets her heavy lidded eyes and her hips try to follow the tight circles of his tongue. He pulls back slightly, letting her legs fall to the side until her knees bounce slightly on the mattress the leans back in to kiss her softly once then kisses her again, wet and sloppy, his tongue gliding around her opening. When he sucks hard at her clit the blinding pleasure makes her cry out, grip the back of his head and ride up against his mouth.

“John.” She breathes when he breaks away again with a wet sound and then his thumb is circling her opening, dipping in slightly every once in a while. He watches her watch him, the hand in his hair sliding over to his shoulder while she reaches back over her head to grip the edge of his narrow mattress. “Don’t stop.”

She grunts and he keeps his eyes on her while he slides two fingers into her scorching wetness, drawing her hips off of the bed, before leaning down to mouth her clit again.

She breaks eye contact, dropping her head back against the pillow and breathing an ‘Oh fuck’ towards the ceiling and John groans against her as she stares with glazed eyes at Johnny Cash where he looms over her.

He knows what’s coming, can feel it edging closer and John thinks he maybe hungrier for the daunting orgasm than she is and can feel her fluttering around his touch, her hips thrusting in tiny shaky movements against his mouth as she tries to hold off the inevitable.

“I’m…fuck. I’m coming.” She whispers hoarsely and her hips buck up hard against his mouth and he stays on her despite the desperate writhing of her hips. He groans against her at the ejaculatory gush of wetness even as her thighs come up tight around his head, muffling her broken cries from his ears, she’s coming so hard that her shoulders curl upwards off of the mattress.

As her orgasm subsides he pulls gently from between her thighs, placing a kiss on her abdomen, the skin covering her ribs before kneeling between her thighs, his hands stroking from her knees to her ankle. He watches her shake in the aftermath, her palm dragging across her right breast and he was so wrong because she’s just so fucking hot like this.

“Elizabeth?” She drags one arm over her eyes, the back of her wrist resting on the bridge of her nose and John watches her, eyes scanning the lithe length of her body. But then she’s looking at him, arm moving more towards her hair line, exposing her green eyes and his chest is getting tight but he keeps looking, makes sure she can read him and then keeps showing.

“When you look at me like that…” she begins breathlessly and he nods once.

“Yeah, I know.”

He leans down, kissing her again, his mouth slippery with her wetness and she groans against him weakly. John is hot and swollen against her and she’s rolling her hips into and he’s breathing against her lips in ragged bursts. And then he’s sliding between her thighs, not inside but against and she stills, eyes squeezed shut and air stagnate in her chest and she’s wet and swollen against him and when the head of his cock butts against her clit before the length drags across she exhales shakily. “John.”

John can vividly remember the awkward embarrassment of Carson handing him a handful of condoms in the middle of the infirmary with a cheeky “Don’t use ‘em all in one place.” But he’s never been more grateful for anything in this moment.

He reaches into the table beside his bed, rooting around in the drawer before his fingers close around the foil packet.

“Put it on.” She mutters grinning up at him, her hand coming up to brush his hair back from his forehead and John beams at her.

“I’m trying. I’m trying.”

And when the condom finally finally goes on he rolls onto his back dragging Elizabeth on top of him.

“Like this?” She asks licking her lips and he nods, adjusting his head on his pillow.

“Oh yeah.” He groans and she laughs quietly while he grins up at her. His hands fists in her hair, dragging her mouth to his and things quickly turn serious again.

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The intensity is startling, blindingly so and all John can do is gasp, trying desperately to drag in air while he slides, hot and solid, inside of Elizabeth. He grunts against her shoulder and the sound is soft and desperate but when he’s finally buried inside of her neither of them moves. And for a blistering second John seriously doubts he can.

For a moment there’s only the sound of harsh ragged breathing and the steady rise and fall of John’s body beneath her.

“Are you okay?” Elizabeth tries to answer, John sees her lips part for words but her head is dropping forward down between her shoulders and her arms are shaking where they’re planted on either side of his head, fingers curling into the pillow. His hands find her waist, his scorching touch curling against the slight protrusion of her hips while he pushes his hips upwards, holding her still through his first, agonizing thrust and the single movement draws his name thick and slow from her mouth. She’s tight and wet and so fucking good around him that John can barely stand it.

It’s hard for John not to notice that sex has never ever been like this with anyone, that this is special. That something that was always supposed to be a release, plain and simple, is filling his chest tight with emotions he can’t even identify. But then again nothing has ever been exactly simple between him and Elizabeth.

His mouth covers her breast, teeth scraping the skin and she groans hoarsely, her hips rocking slowly and her legs tightening on either side of him. His right hand leaves her hip, following the boney convex curve of her spine until his hand is twisting in her dark hair, that falls like a curtain around them, pushing the curls away from her face while his other hands reaches down, skimming past her ass, to grip the back of her thigh, easing her shaking thrusts. Her eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted slightly and he knows that she’s loosing herself in this.

“Elizabeth, look at me.” He rasps breathlessly and she shakes her head slightly, her hair pulling in his grip. He says her name again and then his mouth is on hers, tongues sliding wet and hot and Jesus, he can’t breathe.

“John.” She exhales his name sharply into his mouth and then he is using the hand not tangled in her hair to push himself up and forward until he is sitting up, his arm supporting him.

“Elizabeth, look at me” he whispers and there is note of hysteria that he’s never heard tinted in his own voice. So she looks at him, opens her eyes and meets his wide hazel gaze with glassy green eyes and eyebrows knit in helpless confusion. He knows her expression matches the desperate bewilderment on his face.

He rocks with her slowly, blistering and swollen inside of her and she swallows, one hand sliding to the nape of his neck while the other reaches over his shoulder to grip the outside edge of the headboard at the top of his small bed. They move in slow, harsh, grinding movements and her body grips at him hard, muscles tightening while she digs her fingers into his hair, keeping him close.

“ C’mon.” His voice grunts against the side of here face, the tiny bed slamming into the Atlantean wall rhythmically.

“Fuck…c’mon ‘lizabeth.” He can feel it starting, the liquid heat curling between his legs then outwards up his spine, forcing his toes to curl tightly while drawing broken sounds John has never imagined Elizabeth making from her chest until it sounds like she’s about to explode, like she has to explode, like she needs too. John is so inexplicably happy that he’s the one causing those sounds to leave her that he can feel one side of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

“Oh f-fuck., John.” Her lips move against his ear and then she’s coming despite the fact that they’re barely even moving and there’s hardly any friction. It’s just there.

Her orgasm is quiet, a soft broken cry brushing past his ear but her body says far more in the way it clutches at him, tight and violent and so good. And then he’s coming blindingly hard and her body is curling forward against his, her nails biting into the headboard, hips bucking hard against Johns while his name, strangled and raw, breaks free.

John makes a loud, chocked sound and then he’s stiffening, bucking short and hard up into her and coming in hot jagged spurts.

It feels like it goes on forever, those last erratic throbs of her body around him, until finally they subside and then John is reclining slowly until he is flat against the mattress again and Elizabeth is propped over him weakly on her forearms like a broken doll then they’re just staring at each other, eyes wide and he thinks about saying ‘I love you’, feels it on the tip of his tongue but he doesn’t and then the instant is over and she’s closing her eyes, forehead wrinkling and breath shaky.

His heavy breaths drown out hers and she’s not expecting him to grab her and drag her mouth to his and he hears her surprised grunt then he mimics the sound as she swallows back his tongue hungrily and when she rips her mouth away to breathe his lips find her neck and she swallows thickly, he feels the movement against his lips.

She rolls away from him, moaning when he slips from her body before lying beside John. He manages to get the condom off and into the trashcan beside his bed before lying back on the bed. They lie shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the ceiling and he can see her hands clutching the sheets to her chest from the edge of his vision.

Exhaustion grips him and all the bangs and bruises John forgot about are coming back with a vengeance but falling asleep right now would not be…good. So John rolls onto his side with a groan, his larger frame taking up most of the space of the mattress but Elizabeth fits into the space between him and the wall perfectly.

She looks up at him flushed, sweaty curls plastered to her forehead and she smiles unexpectedly shy and the tear that slides from the corner of her eye towards her hairline bewilders him slightly.

“Hey.” She murmurs and he reaches to drag his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Hey.” He rasps and she’s beautiful like this. Tucking his hands under his head, he relaxes and watches her do the same before sleep sweeps over him.

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She’s been up for a while but John’s exhaustion has left him dancing on the edge of unconsciousness, barely aware of the weight of her against his back or the tightening of the chain of his dog tags that managed to swing around to rest on his back, as she fingers them quietly. She does it for a while then he feels her press a kiss to his shoulder before climbing stealthily over his limp bulky body. When she reaches the other side john turns his head and snags her fingertips with his.

John kinda feels like hell. His head is throbbing, his left eye bruised and swollen and the split skin of his lip is painful and dry. It’s funny how he didn’t notice these things last night.

“Where’d you think you’re goin’?” He slurs tiredly and tugging Elizabeth until she sits at the edge of the bed, her hip pressing into his side.

“I need to go shower. Change.” He can hear the smile in her voice and he groans in protest.

“You can shower here.” Her fingers move against his hand, idly stroking his palm before entangling their fingers.

“Yes. Well, I don’t have any clothes here.” It’s a logical argument.

“You can wear mine.” His isn’t so logical but she laughs quietly and he can’t help but curl around her, pressing his face into her naked hip.

“You’re not wearing any clothes.” He sighs and that’s cause enough for him to drag his eyes open. He squints in the startling bright morning light but Elizabeth is gazing down at him, her fingertips pressed to her lips absently and it looks like she might want to kiss him but when he pushes himself towards her she stops him dead with a palm against his mouth.

“Uh uh. Morning breath. Sorry.” She mutters then she’s standing and he watches blearily while she pulls on her clothes. When she finishes she sits at his side again and touches his hair gently. “I’m glad you’re okay. That all of you are okay.” She murmurs quietly, nails scraping his scalp. “You saved us.” He answers and she doesn’t say anything at all but leans over to press her lips to his temple.

John is pretty sure he loves Elizabeth, that he is in love with Elizabeth but as he watches her smile at him and stand he knows that admitting it to yourself and saying the words when you’re not exactly ready to someone who’s not ready to hear them is dangerous so John watches Elizabeth leave his quarters quietly and shuts his eyes.

The End