Let the Lights Erase Your Name
Title: Let the Lights Erase Your Name
Pairing: Anderson/Kathy Griffin
Words: 450
Warning: umm het? an adolescent attempt at porn.
It’s been going on for three years but they never talk about it.
At three am, separated by half a country, when then have neither the excuses of alcohol nor heady moments, they never acknowledge it at all. But Anderson knows every inch of her by the sounds she makes over the phone.
It’s the most fucked up relationship he’s ever had and not just because she’s a woman.
He’s known her for years, and he’s not sure what changed, because she used to be just funny, a riotous laugh, when their paths or friends happened to cross. Now she rolls her eyes at him and it’s all he can do not to push her against the nearest wall.
They have nothing to say. He still likes men and if she has any expectations of him she never reveals them. There’s a brashness to her that draws him, something solid at her centre, he could tear apart every bit of her and never break it. She gives him nothing, nothing he can feel guilty about not returning.
She has nothing left to lose.
The last time they fuck, it’s his birthday. His broadcast is barely over; make-up still caked on his skin, when he’s pushing her away from the studio and towards his office. He’s wanted her all night and struggled to keep his distance, lips barely finding the curve of her jawbone when he kissed her on air.
He spreads her across his desk, dress ruched around her hips, the sharp points of her heels pressing into his skin as she tries to pull him closer. Her eyes are hooded but she never stops watching him. Her hand ghosts over the pale skin of his abdomen, down to where their bodies meet. Beads of sweat fall from the nape of his neck, his mouth feels loose at the sight of her.
He tries to stay her hips as she arches up to him, her own fingers working her clit. He pushes further into her and she wraps her other hand around his wrist, squeezing hard enough to bruise.
After he comes, he drops to his knees. He holds her ankle in his hand and sucks the skin around the bone. She whines a little as his tongue travels the length of her leg, teeth against the back of her knee, butterfly kisses along the creamy white inside of her thigh. He pulls her fingers away, noses them, before sucking them into his mouth.
She hooks her legs over his shoulders and presses his head down with her hands. Her body thrashes against the wood as he cleans her up.
It’ll be like he was never here at all.
Pairing: Anderson/Kathy Griffin
Words: 450
Warning: umm het? an adolescent attempt at porn.
It’s been going on for three years but they never talk about it.
At three am, separated by half a country, when then have neither the excuses of alcohol nor heady moments, they never acknowledge it at all. But Anderson knows every inch of her by the sounds she makes over the phone.
It’s the most fucked up relationship he’s ever had and not just because she’s a woman.
He’s known her for years, and he’s not sure what changed, because she used to be just funny, a riotous laugh, when their paths or friends happened to cross. Now she rolls her eyes at him and it’s all he can do not to push her against the nearest wall.
They have nothing to say. He still likes men and if she has any expectations of him she never reveals them. There’s a brashness to her that draws him, something solid at her centre, he could tear apart every bit of her and never break it. She gives him nothing, nothing he can feel guilty about not returning.
She has nothing left to lose.
The last time they fuck, it’s his birthday. His broadcast is barely over; make-up still caked on his skin, when he’s pushing her away from the studio and towards his office. He’s wanted her all night and struggled to keep his distance, lips barely finding the curve of her jawbone when he kissed her on air.
He spreads her across his desk, dress ruched around her hips, the sharp points of her heels pressing into his skin as she tries to pull him closer. Her eyes are hooded but she never stops watching him. Her hand ghosts over the pale skin of his abdomen, down to where their bodies meet. Beads of sweat fall from the nape of his neck, his mouth feels loose at the sight of her.
He tries to stay her hips as she arches up to him, her own fingers working her clit. He pushes further into her and she wraps her other hand around his wrist, squeezing hard enough to bruise.
After he comes, he drops to his knees. He holds her ankle in his hand and sucks the skin around the bone. She whines a little as his tongue travels the length of her leg, teeth against the back of her knee, butterfly kisses along the creamy white inside of her thigh. He pulls her fingers away, noses them, before sucking them into his mouth.
She hooks her legs over his shoulders and presses his head down with her hands. Her body thrashes against the wood as he cleans her up.
It’ll be like he was never here at all.