Dying to Feel
Title: Dying to Feel
Author: Lamia (email@example.com)
Disclaimer: So incredibly not mine.
Prompt: #9 - Cemetery
Warnings: Sex and tombstones, and my maiden attempt at smut. Be gentle.
Summary: She just wanted to feel. End of All ‘verse.
She was always drawn to the cemetery. At night, when she should be home, she sat on the head stone of someone she never met to think about her life. It was fitting, really. She wasn’t real, never real. Never born, never to die. And yet she lived, walking among the mortals as if she was one of them. She wasn’t. She never really had been. It was more fitting that this was where she would see him again, the man who introduced her to her destiny. She felt him approach from behind her, that familiar buzz, too strong to be any other than him.
“Miss me, Princess?” That brought a small smile to her lips. She missed him indeed, the only one who truly understood her now, what she was. But even he didn’t understand it all, that she wasn’t really real.
“How could I miss you, I don’t even exist.” There was a sadness in her voice that made him want to wipe it away.
“Of course you do. You’re talking to me, aren’t you?”
“But I’m not real.”
“Tell me, Princess, if you weren’t real, could I do this?” He stood in front of her now, and he placed a hand on her hair, pulling her into the kiss he’d waited a year to deliver. She responded by opening her mouth to him, while squeezing the remaining air from between their bodies.
Time seemed to flow funny then. She wasn’t aware of separating enough to lose clothes, but suddenly they were both topless. She let her hands wander over his chest as he nibbled on her neck, and then her shoulder. There was a little voice in her head wondering how this had happened, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel, something, anything to let her know she was real. When he moved his lips and teeth to her taut nipple, she lost all sense of though as sensation took over.
She busied her hands with unfastening his jeans while he worked her silk skirt up her thighs. She spared a moment of thought to the fabric being ruined, but immediately decided she didn’t care as she released him from his pants. She held him in her hands, stroking, the feel of his hardness sending shivers of pleasure up her spine.
Methos raised his head to look at Dawn, a question in his eyes. What the hell were they doing? He’d wanted to talk to her, see her, not…well, fine, he wanted this, but he never intended it. She erased his questions by cupping his face in her hands, looking straight into his eyes as she spoke.
“Please, Adam. Make me feel. Show me that I’m real.”
He kissed her again, hungry, trying to taste every last bit of her mouth. Her teeth nipped against his lip, and he was undone. The next moment he was inside her, and she was screaming, begging for release. The quickly found a rhythm and he was pounding into her, grinding her into the stone upon which she sat. She relished every moment, every sensation, every bit of pain and pleasure she could steal. The climax came too quickly, and she was screaming his name in pleasure and frustration. It was almost too much, but she still wanted more.
She pushed him away, and jumped down off the stone. He looked questioningly at her, and she just smiled, giving him a light shove in the chest. He stumbled and fell, landing on his back in the soft grass. She lowered herself on top of him, kissing his lips as fiercely as he had hers not long before. She explored him with her lips, her tongue, her teeth, landing small kisses and nibbles across his cheek to his ear and down his neck. She traveled down his chest stopping to circle each small hard nipple with her tongue. She licked her way slowly across his stomach, nibbling her way around his navel. Then she came to where she really wanted to be.
She flicked the tip of her tongue once across the head of his cock. Then she made long strokes from the base of his shaft to the tip, tasting their mixed juices. Wrapping her lips around him, she moved slowly up and down, swirling her tongue over him as she did. He was moaning, almost pleading, thought he couldn’t think of what for. Just as is seemed he could take no more, she stopped, giving the tip of his shaft a final flick of her tongue.
She crawled up him, until they were once more face to face, before rising up to sit above him. She hovered for a few seconds before driving herself down onto him. She moved slowly at first, then harder, faster, until the rhythm made her dizzy, with his hands grasping her thighs and her fingernails dragging little red lines in his chest. She cried out, a wordless scream, as the orgasm racked her body. She spasmed around him, bringing him with her to the heights of passion before collapsing on his chest.
They lay like that for a long time, recovering. When their breath was once again slow and steady and their racing hearts has slowed to a normal beat, she turned to face him.
“So, what brings you to LA?”