![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kathierif_ficTitle: Fever Pitch
Fandom: The Losers (movieverse)
Pairing: Franklin Clay/Aisha Fadhil
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: When they were working, Clay was the boss.
A/N: kink_bingo fic, prompt “nippleplay”. 925 words. Title...so obvious. :))
When they were working, when on a mission, it went without saying that Clay was the boss. He was the Colonel, what he said, they did. Not all of them did it always without grumbling and complaining, but the Losers were and had been soldiers and obeying Clay’s orders was like second nature to them.
It was only natural that Aisha, as the outsider she was, tried and did her best fitting in by following the others’ example, which meant that she followed Clay’s orders. Mostly, and when they didn’t interfere with her own agenda.
But here, in the privacy of their hotel room, the drapes closed, the door locked, when it was just the two of them, their roles were not as easily discerned as they were out there.
Here, it was Aisha who called the shots, and of course, she did it in a very subtle way that made Clay think that he still was in control, that he still had the power to stop her.
She grinned as she swung a leg across Clay’s hip and pressed her chest against his to distract him while her mouth, wet, soft and open, rasped along the stubble on Clay’s cheek. Clay’s hands settled on her hips, his thumbs brushing inwards along the crease of hip and thigh. He was still in control of himself, his mind razor-sharp and dangerous.
It was time to do something about that.
Aisha sucked a kiss into the soft skin at the side of Clay’s throat, tasting salty sweat and metallic blood while her fingers skillfully tugged little buttons through their holes and parted clean white fabric to expose the slightly less refined surface of Clay’s undershirt.
Her hands reached up, palms brushing over his chest. She could feel his nipples through the soft cotton, but she didn’t linger as she brushed up to his shoulders and pushed his shirt down until it was caught in the hooks of his elbows.
Clay grinned amusedly at her, as if he knew what she was planning, and Aisha ground her hips down, against his hardening dick which she could feel through the fabric of his pants.
Clay’s eyes started to half-close, but he was still grinning, that half-smirk playing around the edges of his mouth and mocking her.
Her hands tangled in his undershirt and yanked. The fabric ripped, giving way under her strength, and she pressed herself against him again, biting at his chin while his fingers pushed her underwear aside, cupped her ass, and yanked her closer to himself.
She released her grip on his now ruined undershirt and reached down, to open his pants and pull his hard dick out. She had barely enough room to finish pushing down his pants before he yanked her close again, but she didn’t resist and took him into her eagerly.
There were times, when he was feeling tired and worn out, when this was already enough to establish who really gave the orders, who was in control, but not today.
Today, she had to take extra measures.
Aisha arched her spine and splayed her fingers across Clay’s chest, combing through his chest hair and scratching across his left nipple. Clay grunted and pushed up into her, and she repeated it, her nails sharp and unforgiving. Her other hand found his right nipple and tugged until it was hard and pebbled and Clay’s breath came in harsh pants.
She almost had him.
Aisha grinned triumphantly as his mouth fell open and a look of pure bliss crossed his face as she kept twisting and pulling at his nipples while fucking him at a punishing, furious pace.
It was almost enough to bring him to the edge and drop him, almost enough to re-establish the rules of the bedroom; almost, but he was not quite there yet. Aisha needed something else, something that was sharp enough to get through Clay’s defenses and to the soft parts inside of him.
She grinned widely and bent down, her spine bowed, to replace her hand with her mouth. She knew exactly what to do – lick, tease, circle the abused nipple with the tip of her tongue to soothe the pain, then close her teeth around it and cause even more pain and pleasure.
Clay growled and moaned, his hands tight on her hips and probably leaving bruises as he bucked almost violently up, into her, and freezing, every muscle tight as he came, his chest hair tickling Aisha’s face as she clamped her teeth and fingers down on his nipples. She was in control of him again, and from here on out until they would leave the room the next morning, he would be like wax in her hands, easily shaped in whatever way she saw fit.
Her smiled widened as she moved her hips languidly, rubbing herself against him and twisting his nipple almost teasingly. Clay made a broken sound deep in his throat, but he didn’t try to twist away from her grip.
Like wax in her hands.
She bit at his throat again as she arched her back and pressed her own breasts against his chest, feeling the rough texture of hair against her smooth skin.
She was firmly in control again. It was a heady feeling. Aisha grinned and moved her hips again. Maybe she should invest in a pair of clamps for him to wear, but that was not for now to decide.
Now, he would do what she wanted him to.
Now was the point where the fun just started.
~end.
Fandom: The Losers (movieverse)
Pairing: Franklin Clay/Aisha Fadhil
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: When they were working, Clay was the boss.
A/N: kink_bingo fic, prompt “nippleplay”. 925 words. Title...so obvious. :))
When they were working, when on a mission, it went without saying that Clay was the boss. He was the Colonel, what he said, they did. Not all of them did it always without grumbling and complaining, but the Losers were and had been soldiers and obeying Clay’s orders was like second nature to them.
It was only natural that Aisha, as the outsider she was, tried and did her best fitting in by following the others’ example, which meant that she followed Clay’s orders. Mostly, and when they didn’t interfere with her own agenda.
But here, in the privacy of their hotel room, the drapes closed, the door locked, when it was just the two of them, their roles were not as easily discerned as they were out there.
Here, it was Aisha who called the shots, and of course, she did it in a very subtle way that made Clay think that he still was in control, that he still had the power to stop her.
She grinned as she swung a leg across Clay’s hip and pressed her chest against his to distract him while her mouth, wet, soft and open, rasped along the stubble on Clay’s cheek. Clay’s hands settled on her hips, his thumbs brushing inwards along the crease of hip and thigh. He was still in control of himself, his mind razor-sharp and dangerous.
It was time to do something about that.
Aisha sucked a kiss into the soft skin at the side of Clay’s throat, tasting salty sweat and metallic blood while her fingers skillfully tugged little buttons through their holes and parted clean white fabric to expose the slightly less refined surface of Clay’s undershirt.
Her hands reached up, palms brushing over his chest. She could feel his nipples through the soft cotton, but she didn’t linger as she brushed up to his shoulders and pushed his shirt down until it was caught in the hooks of his elbows.
Clay grinned amusedly at her, as if he knew what she was planning, and Aisha ground her hips down, against his hardening dick which she could feel through the fabric of his pants.
Clay’s eyes started to half-close, but he was still grinning, that half-smirk playing around the edges of his mouth and mocking her.
Her hands tangled in his undershirt and yanked. The fabric ripped, giving way under her strength, and she pressed herself against him again, biting at his chin while his fingers pushed her underwear aside, cupped her ass, and yanked her closer to himself.
She released her grip on his now ruined undershirt and reached down, to open his pants and pull his hard dick out. She had barely enough room to finish pushing down his pants before he yanked her close again, but she didn’t resist and took him into her eagerly.
There were times, when he was feeling tired and worn out, when this was already enough to establish who really gave the orders, who was in control, but not today.
Today, she had to take extra measures.
Aisha arched her spine and splayed her fingers across Clay’s chest, combing through his chest hair and scratching across his left nipple. Clay grunted and pushed up into her, and she repeated it, her nails sharp and unforgiving. Her other hand found his right nipple and tugged until it was hard and pebbled and Clay’s breath came in harsh pants.
She almost had him.
Aisha grinned triumphantly as his mouth fell open and a look of pure bliss crossed his face as she kept twisting and pulling at his nipples while fucking him at a punishing, furious pace.
It was almost enough to bring him to the edge and drop him, almost enough to re-establish the rules of the bedroom; almost, but he was not quite there yet. Aisha needed something else, something that was sharp enough to get through Clay’s defenses and to the soft parts inside of him.
She grinned widely and bent down, her spine bowed, to replace her hand with her mouth. She knew exactly what to do – lick, tease, circle the abused nipple with the tip of her tongue to soothe the pain, then close her teeth around it and cause even more pain and pleasure.
Clay growled and moaned, his hands tight on her hips and probably leaving bruises as he bucked almost violently up, into her, and freezing, every muscle tight as he came, his chest hair tickling Aisha’s face as she clamped her teeth and fingers down on his nipples. She was in control of him again, and from here on out until they would leave the room the next morning, he would be like wax in her hands, easily shaped in whatever way she saw fit.
Her smiled widened as she moved her hips languidly, rubbing herself against him and twisting his nipple almost teasingly. Clay made a broken sound deep in his throat, but he didn’t try to twist away from her grip.
Like wax in her hands.
She bit at his throat again as she arched her back and pressed her own breasts against his chest, feeling the rough texture of hair against her smooth skin.
She was firmly in control again. It was a heady feeling. Aisha grinned and moved her hips again. Maybe she should invest in a pair of clamps for him to wear, but that was not for now to decide.
Now, he would do what she wanted him to.
Now was the point where the fun just started.
~end.