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FIC: Straight On
Title: Straight On
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Cougar/OFC
Warning: Graphic and unprotected heterosexual sex.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Andy Diggle and to Jock. No profit made, no lawsuit preferred.
Summary: Cougar thinks he knows how to lose gracefully. He is not correct.
Notes:poisontaster made this about a billion times better with her suggestions. Thank you for tightening my corset.
As soon as the bed dips, Cougar is awake. He doesn’t think, he just catches by the arm whoever is pulling his sheets back. For a half-asleep moment, he thinks it’s Jensen shaking him out of another nightmare. But it’s a woman kneeling on the edge of his bed, her skirt hitched up by the movement to reveal a length of thigh.
The woman smiles, revealing a dimple. Cougar remembers that dimple from the bar last night, and the ones at the back of her knees as she bent to shoot pool. He remembers that she gravitated to Jensen because his shirt made her laugh; she put her hand on Jensen’s wrist and asked which programming language he liked, and Jensen lit up. Cougar steals women out from under Jensen, yes, when they’ll go, but he also knows when to lose gracefully. He turned to the woman seated on his other side, though he felt Jensen’s woman’s low heels idly drumming against his barstool all night, and her scent lingered in his awareness. Cougar kissed the girl he flirted with, left her hot and frustrated at the end of the night, abandoned her phone number in his pocket to be lost in the laundry.
(Perhaps he didn’t lose so gracefully, after all.)
She went home with Jensen. She fucked him; Cougar can smell that on her, the ghost of Jensen’s cologne smeared across her skin and the hotter scent of her pussy. He runs his eyes down her body, down to her open thighs, and she shivers. Riled up.
The woman flexes her fingers, her tendons moving against the palm of his hand. Not like he’s hurting her. Like she wants him to grab her harder, hold her tighter. She turns her arm over in his grip, breaking it, and drags his hand between her thighs. He could stop her. He doesn’t.
Her wetness soaks his fingers. He crooks his fingers automatically, follows the sweep of her body from clit to cunt, and she grinds down on his hand. “Didn’t use a condom,” she purrs. “You wanna?”
Cougar freezes before he can stop it, and he sees by her face that his reaction betrays him. “What do you want?” he asks.
“Dude.” Scorn makes her drop the bedroom voice. “What do you think? I want to sit on your face, dipshit.”
This is what he wants to hear. They understand each other.
Cougar takes his fingers back, after thumbing her clit to make her shudder and bite her lip. Her lips are swollen from that, from kissing, from-- did she suck him? Did he shake under her, or hold tense as he does for Cougar’s needle when he’s being stitched?
It’s not his to know. This is his.
He raises his fingers to his mouth, sucks them clean, and she grins. “Thought so,” she murmurs, and climbs on the bed. She leaves her heels on his floor, beside the bed. He goes to help her onto him, both automatic chivalry and to keep from being kneed, and she swats his hands. “Quit it.”
Yes. Definitely Jensen’s kind of woman. Cougar raises his hands in silent surrender, and she sniffs. Straddles his head in one lean motion. Her skirt hikes up around her hips, and she balances on her knees above him. He can smell her, deep as the ocean, and he can smell Jensen on her.
“Want it?” she asks him, and runs her light touch across his face. “Yeah?”
Cougar narrows his eyes at her.
“Yeah,” she sighs, pleased, and sinks onto him.
The woman is wet and hot against his throat, his chin. He opens her with thumb and forefinger like a ripe fruit, pulls her down onto his mouth. Licks her out, the salt-bitter taste he wants, muffling his growl of satisfaction until all he hears is her ragged breathing and her yes, yes.
***
In the morning, there’s no trace of the woman. She disappeared in the night as effectively as any of the unit.
Despite that, Jensen is obnoxiously cheerful as he gets his coffee. Cougar tries not to look at his hand, the bite marks still visible on his knuckles; Jensen’s attempts at being quiet off-mission usually involve stuffing something in his mouth. He didn’t want to wake Cougar, probably. A good friend.
In the interests of being a good friend, Cougar makes a note to slip condoms in Jensen’s wallet.
“So, Harpo,” Jensen says finally, and tosses Cougar the toy in his cereal. “How was your night?”
Cougar shrugs. He has nothing to say.
Author:
nilchanceRating: NC-17
Pairing: Cougar/OFC
Warning: Graphic and unprotected heterosexual sex.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Andy Diggle and to Jock. No profit made, no lawsuit preferred.
Summary: Cougar thinks he knows how to lose gracefully. He is not correct.
Notes:
poisontaster made this about a billion times better with her suggestions. Thank you for tightening my corset.As soon as the bed dips, Cougar is awake. He doesn’t think, he just catches by the arm whoever is pulling his sheets back. For a half-asleep moment, he thinks it’s Jensen shaking him out of another nightmare. But it’s a woman kneeling on the edge of his bed, her skirt hitched up by the movement to reveal a length of thigh.
The woman smiles, revealing a dimple. Cougar remembers that dimple from the bar last night, and the ones at the back of her knees as she bent to shoot pool. He remembers that she gravitated to Jensen because his shirt made her laugh; she put her hand on Jensen’s wrist and asked which programming language he liked, and Jensen lit up. Cougar steals women out from under Jensen, yes, when they’ll go, but he also knows when to lose gracefully. He turned to the woman seated on his other side, though he felt Jensen’s woman’s low heels idly drumming against his barstool all night, and her scent lingered in his awareness. Cougar kissed the girl he flirted with, left her hot and frustrated at the end of the night, abandoned her phone number in his pocket to be lost in the laundry.
(Perhaps he didn’t lose so gracefully, after all.)
She went home with Jensen. She fucked him; Cougar can smell that on her, the ghost of Jensen’s cologne smeared across her skin and the hotter scent of her pussy. He runs his eyes down her body, down to her open thighs, and she shivers. Riled up.
The woman flexes her fingers, her tendons moving against the palm of his hand. Not like he’s hurting her. Like she wants him to grab her harder, hold her tighter. She turns her arm over in his grip, breaking it, and drags his hand between her thighs. He could stop her. He doesn’t.
Her wetness soaks his fingers. He crooks his fingers automatically, follows the sweep of her body from clit to cunt, and she grinds down on his hand. “Didn’t use a condom,” she purrs. “You wanna?”
Cougar freezes before he can stop it, and he sees by her face that his reaction betrays him. “What do you want?” he asks.
“Dude.” Scorn makes her drop the bedroom voice. “What do you think? I want to sit on your face, dipshit.”
This is what he wants to hear. They understand each other.
Cougar takes his fingers back, after thumbing her clit to make her shudder and bite her lip. Her lips are swollen from that, from kissing, from-- did she suck him? Did he shake under her, or hold tense as he does for Cougar’s needle when he’s being stitched?
It’s not his to know. This is his.
He raises his fingers to his mouth, sucks them clean, and she grins. “Thought so,” she murmurs, and climbs on the bed. She leaves her heels on his floor, beside the bed. He goes to help her onto him, both automatic chivalry and to keep from being kneed, and she swats his hands. “Quit it.”
Yes. Definitely Jensen’s kind of woman. Cougar raises his hands in silent surrender, and she sniffs. Straddles his head in one lean motion. Her skirt hikes up around her hips, and she balances on her knees above him. He can smell her, deep as the ocean, and he can smell Jensen on her.
“Want it?” she asks him, and runs her light touch across his face. “Yeah?”
Cougar narrows his eyes at her.
“Yeah,” she sighs, pleased, and sinks onto him.
The woman is wet and hot against his throat, his chin. He opens her with thumb and forefinger like a ripe fruit, pulls her down onto his mouth. Licks her out, the salt-bitter taste he wants, muffling his growl of satisfaction until all he hears is her ragged breathing and her yes, yes.
***
In the morning, there’s no trace of the woman. She disappeared in the night as effectively as any of the unit.
Despite that, Jensen is obnoxiously cheerful as he gets his coffee. Cougar tries not to look at his hand, the bite marks still visible on his knuckles; Jensen’s attempts at being quiet off-mission usually involve stuffing something in his mouth. He didn’t want to wake Cougar, probably. A good friend.
In the interests of being a good friend, Cougar makes a note to slip condoms in Jensen’s wallet.
“So, Harpo,” Jensen says finally, and tosses Cougar the toy in his cereal. “How was your night?”
Cougar shrugs. He has nothing to say.