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I had a few moments to write and I got stuck on the two fics I'm working on (pt 2 of Squiggles and the next KOH) so I wrote this for Razzle who wanted Orlando/Keira.
Stolen Moments
R
250 words
The water droplets from her hands shone in the air like laughter and she stuck her tongue out at him, dancing backwards, the sun making her skin apricot and copper.
The sand was warm under his bare legs and he was too comfortable to get up, to chase. He let her flutter tantalisingly close, reaching out lazily, looking at the blue of the sky through the fingers that cast shadows on his face.
Eventually she’d get tired and come back, she’d settle, long limbs and loose hair, across his lap and let him kiss her, let him run his hands up her sun warmed back and flick open that vibrantly coloured bikini top and pull it off her, sucking her darkened nipples into his mouth. She’d curl her thighs around his waist, rocking downwards until he’d be able to feel her heat through the two thin layers of wet fabric. Then perhaps he’d roll her into the sand, or lie back and let her peel away his wet trunks. Perhaps he’d just touch her until she came, gasping his name and shuddering the way she had when he’d taken her on the floor of Johnny’s yacht, the director just ten feet away the other side of a door.
Perhaps they’d tell people, perhaps it would become a proper relationship. Or maybe it would remain these stolen moments. She bit her lip as she left the waves, the sand coating her wet ankles as she approached him. He’d think another time.
Stolen Moments
R
250 words
The water droplets from her hands shone in the air like laughter and she stuck her tongue out at him, dancing backwards, the sun making her skin apricot and copper.
The sand was warm under his bare legs and he was too comfortable to get up, to chase. He let her flutter tantalisingly close, reaching out lazily, looking at the blue of the sky through the fingers that cast shadows on his face.
Eventually she’d get tired and come back, she’d settle, long limbs and loose hair, across his lap and let him kiss her, let him run his hands up her sun warmed back and flick open that vibrantly coloured bikini top and pull it off her, sucking her darkened nipples into his mouth. She’d curl her thighs around his waist, rocking downwards until he’d be able to feel her heat through the two thin layers of wet fabric. Then perhaps he’d roll her into the sand, or lie back and let her peel away his wet trunks. Perhaps he’d just touch her until she came, gasping his name and shuddering the way she had when he’d taken her on the floor of Johnny’s yacht, the director just ten feet away the other side of a door.
Perhaps they’d tell people, perhaps it would become a proper relationship. Or maybe it would remain these stolen moments. She bit her lip as she left the waves, the sand coating her wet ankles as she approached him. He’d think another time.
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