RPF: Five Minutes (Chris Meloni/Mariska Hargitay) ADULT
I wrote this for the LJ Porn Battle. Original entry HERE. The object being you take a prompt and a pairing and then write a short porny ficlet that will fit inside a comment box.
This is a work of fiction and is not based in fact in any way.
Five Minutes
Chris Meloni/Mariska Hargitay, NC-17, just an odd, sexy moment...
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“You’ve got five minutes, Meloni,” she says in his ear, and her hand slides down into his pants.
It only barely registers when she touches him, her hand cool against the heat of his dick. He groans a little and tilts his head back against the wall. “Not a problem,” he manages to mutter.
Five minutes because lunch has been cut short today when he kept smiling at Mariska and messing her up and they had to re-shoot the scene fifteen fucking times. Five minutes because she came against his mouth five minutes before this, and she took a really long fucking time to get there.
It feels like he’s been hard forever, and when she tightens her grip and tugs, his eyes nearly roll up inside his head. “Fuck…” he swears. Quietly.
She smiles against his neck and then her lips brush over his jaw, run down his throat and burrow under the collar of Elliot Stabler’s starched blue shirt. The fingers of her free hand work the top button loose.
He loves it when she sucks at his skin like this, mouth soft so she doesn’t leave a mark. The only thing he loves more is the noise she makes when she comes. When he makes her come.
She slides palm up and down his length, and he widens his stance, tightens the muscles in his thighs. When he closes his eyes he can see sparks behind his eyelids. She lifts her head and sucks at the spot just under his chin. Just strong enough to make him feel weak.
“Harder,” he mutters.
Her fingers tighten and then twist around the tip of his cock. She slides her touch down loosely and then pulls back up tightly, with the twist at the end. Again, again, again.
He holds his breath and then exhales, hard.
“Come on, baby,” she says, encouragingly, lips brushing his ear. He fucking loves that. Loves. “Two minutes left.”
She swipes her thumb over the slit on his cock, and he swipes his tongue over his teeth, along the roof of his mouth, and he can still taste her there. He swallows.
He feels like a live wire, and the pleasure is washing out from his groin, and she’s whispering in his ear with that smoky voice, and he can still, still, still fucking taste her.
Twist, twist, and then he’s slamming his eyes shut and his head back against the wall and he’s coming and coming and he can’t help the sounds rising from his own throat.
She holds him as he hangs there, against the wall, unable to even think as the sex soaks his body and starts draining away. He’s panting in the aftermath, and he feels heavy.
She keeps one hand buried between his legs and one around the back of his neck, and she smiles against his lips as she kisses him. “Thirty seconds to spare,” she whispers.
He opens his mouth for her. It’s thirty seconds he doesn’t want to waste.
~end~
This is a work of fiction and is not based in fact in any way.
Five Minutes
Chris Meloni/Mariska Hargitay, NC-17, just an odd, sexy moment...
+
“You’ve got five minutes, Meloni,” she says in his ear, and her hand slides down into his pants.
It only barely registers when she touches him, her hand cool against the heat of his dick. He groans a little and tilts his head back against the wall. “Not a problem,” he manages to mutter.
Five minutes because lunch has been cut short today when he kept smiling at Mariska and messing her up and they had to re-shoot the scene fifteen fucking times. Five minutes because she came against his mouth five minutes before this, and she took a really long fucking time to get there.
It feels like he’s been hard forever, and when she tightens her grip and tugs, his eyes nearly roll up inside his head. “Fuck…” he swears. Quietly.
She smiles against his neck and then her lips brush over his jaw, run down his throat and burrow under the collar of Elliot Stabler’s starched blue shirt. The fingers of her free hand work the top button loose.
He loves it when she sucks at his skin like this, mouth soft so she doesn’t leave a mark. The only thing he loves more is the noise she makes when she comes. When he makes her come.
She slides palm up and down his length, and he widens his stance, tightens the muscles in his thighs. When he closes his eyes he can see sparks behind his eyelids. She lifts her head and sucks at the spot just under his chin. Just strong enough to make him feel weak.
“Harder,” he mutters.
Her fingers tighten and then twist around the tip of his cock. She slides her touch down loosely and then pulls back up tightly, with the twist at the end. Again, again, again.
He holds his breath and then exhales, hard.
“Come on, baby,” she says, encouragingly, lips brushing his ear. He fucking loves that. Loves. “Two minutes left.”
She swipes her thumb over the slit on his cock, and he swipes his tongue over his teeth, along the roof of his mouth, and he can still taste her there. He swallows.
He feels like a live wire, and the pleasure is washing out from his groin, and she’s whispering in his ear with that smoky voice, and he can still, still, still fucking taste her.
Twist, twist, and then he’s slamming his eyes shut and his head back against the wall and he’s coming and coming and he can’t help the sounds rising from his own throat.
She holds him as he hangs there, against the wall, unable to even think as the sex soaks his body and starts draining away. He’s panting in the aftermath, and he feels heavy.
She keeps one hand buried between his legs and one around the back of his neck, and she smiles against his lips as she kisses him. “Thirty seconds to spare,” she whispers.
He opens his mouth for her. It’s thirty seconds he doesn’t want to waste.
~end~