[Burn Notice] Waking Dream (Michael/Fiona)
Written For Porn Battle VII
Fandom: Burn Notice
Rating: M
Pairing: Fiona/Michael
Prompt: Favor
Word Count: ~725
It is late when Michael hears her footsteps on the stairs. He expects a knock, but none comes. She settles on the top step.
He stares at the ceiling, watching her distorted silhouette. She's holding her head in her hands. He knows she will never ask. She will sit out there until the sun comes up and never dare ask.
Eventually, he tosses the sheet aside and sits up, his feet coming to rest on the cool floor. The warehouse echoes even the smallest sound. He pads to the door and stands, listening. She rises to her feet as well. He can hear the landing shift with even her slight weight.
"Fi?"
"Michael, don't --"
He opens the door.
Her eyes play over his body for a heart beat before she closes her eyes, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry. I'll just --"
"Come in, Fiona."
She stands there, eyes downturned. He touches her elbow, and her hands falls into his, like they never stopped touching one another.
He barely gets the door closed before he pulls her into his arms, laying a kiss on the top of her head. She's shaking. He crushes her against his chest, holding tight as she melts against him.
It feels good to hold her again. He presses his nose into her hair, and then he's kissing her neck.
Her hands push him away, "Jesus, Michael, don't do me any favours..."
He can't let her go, and in another heartbeat, she's kissing him, hands wrapped around his neck, her soft moan vibrating through him.
She's so light, his hands stroke down her back to her arse, down to her thighs, where he lifts her, wrapping her legs around his waist. She remembers, her body remembers and she moves with him.
He carries her, kissing her, all the way to his bed, carrying her down to the mattress, following her down. She feels like heaven, like the only home he's ever known. She lets him strip her tank top off, her hands curling around his head as he bends to press his mouth to her breast.
His eyes close as he tastes her skin, laving the areola until her nipple stands up hard against his tongue. He takes it between his teeth applying just enough pressure, until she's shivering and whimpering, cursing as her head presses back into the mattress.
His hands tug her jeans over her slim hips, his mouth tracking over the plane of her stomach, a line of wet kisses down to her cunt. Her hands fist in his hair, tugging hard as she moans. She is honey and spice and musk against his mouth and he feasts, his fingertips digging into her hips to hold her still as she writhes under his avid tongue.
He loves the sound of her voice like this, but she has other plans. He feels her knee comes up, feels her brace her foot on his hipbone. He smiles, bites back a laugh as she pushes him away. He doesn't want any broken bones. No, he finishes removing her jeans, his mouth descending to leave a sucking bite in the hollow of her hip.
Her hands are insistent, pulling him back down to her. He can see the expression on her face, the hunger, the longing. He closes his eyes, lest she see that longing reflected there.
Her kiss is soft and hungry, and he returns it, letting the heat of her body wash over him. He settles into the cradle of her hips, his cock sliding along her cleft as she twines around him, her sighs filling his ears as he shifts above her. He remembers this dance, but memory is nothing compared to the feel of her slickness enveloping him as he slides home.
Sweet friction, heat becoming flame, her fingernails cutting trails of light across his back. She arches hard beneath him, her voice a magnesium flare that sears through his nervous system. All the rest of it falls away into darkness as he moves, his face pressed against the hollow of her throat, her heels digging into the back of his thighs.
He groans her name, and she responds, her pleasure flaring in his skin. She bucks hard beneath him, and he breaks, the steady motion of his hips stuttering as his orgasm takes him.
She is the surface of the sun and he burns for her.
.
Fandom: Burn Notice
Rating: M
Pairing: Fiona/Michael
Prompt: Favor
Word Count: ~725
It is late when Michael hears her footsteps on the stairs. He expects a knock, but none comes. She settles on the top step.
He stares at the ceiling, watching her distorted silhouette. She's holding her head in her hands. He knows she will never ask. She will sit out there until the sun comes up and never dare ask.
Eventually, he tosses the sheet aside and sits up, his feet coming to rest on the cool floor. The warehouse echoes even the smallest sound. He pads to the door and stands, listening. She rises to her feet as well. He can hear the landing shift with even her slight weight.
"Fi?"
"Michael, don't --"
He opens the door.
Her eyes play over his body for a heart beat before she closes her eyes, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry. I'll just --"
"Come in, Fiona."
She stands there, eyes downturned. He touches her elbow, and her hands falls into his, like they never stopped touching one another.
He barely gets the door closed before he pulls her into his arms, laying a kiss on the top of her head. She's shaking. He crushes her against his chest, holding tight as she melts against him.
It feels good to hold her again. He presses his nose into her hair, and then he's kissing her neck.
Her hands push him away, "Jesus, Michael, don't do me any favours..."
He can't let her go, and in another heartbeat, she's kissing him, hands wrapped around his neck, her soft moan vibrating through him.
She's so light, his hands stroke down her back to her arse, down to her thighs, where he lifts her, wrapping her legs around his waist. She remembers, her body remembers and she moves with him.
He carries her, kissing her, all the way to his bed, carrying her down to the mattress, following her down. She feels like heaven, like the only home he's ever known. She lets him strip her tank top off, her hands curling around his head as he bends to press his mouth to her breast.
His eyes close as he tastes her skin, laving the areola until her nipple stands up hard against his tongue. He takes it between his teeth applying just enough pressure, until she's shivering and whimpering, cursing as her head presses back into the mattress.
His hands tug her jeans over her slim hips, his mouth tracking over the plane of her stomach, a line of wet kisses down to her cunt. Her hands fist in his hair, tugging hard as she moans. She is honey and spice and musk against his mouth and he feasts, his fingertips digging into her hips to hold her still as she writhes under his avid tongue.
He loves the sound of her voice like this, but she has other plans. He feels her knee comes up, feels her brace her foot on his hipbone. He smiles, bites back a laugh as she pushes him away. He doesn't want any broken bones. No, he finishes removing her jeans, his mouth descending to leave a sucking bite in the hollow of her hip.
Her hands are insistent, pulling him back down to her. He can see the expression on her face, the hunger, the longing. He closes his eyes, lest she see that longing reflected there.
Her kiss is soft and hungry, and he returns it, letting the heat of her body wash over him. He settles into the cradle of her hips, his cock sliding along her cleft as she twines around him, her sighs filling his ears as he shifts above her. He remembers this dance, but memory is nothing compared to the feel of her slickness enveloping him as he slides home.
Sweet friction, heat becoming flame, her fingernails cutting trails of light across his back. She arches hard beneath him, her voice a magnesium flare that sears through his nervous system. All the rest of it falls away into darkness as he moves, his face pressed against the hollow of her throat, her heels digging into the back of his thighs.
He groans her name, and she responds, her pleasure flaring in his skin. She bucks hard beneath him, and he breaks, the steady motion of his hips stuttering as his orgasm takes him.
She is the surface of the sun and he burns for her.
.