Title: Magnetism
Author: Christine )
Rating: R
Pairing: Tru/Jack
Summary: Opposites attract, don't they? Smutty-ness must ensue.
Notes: I do not own the characters. I'm using them for my own amusement.
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I do not know why we do this.
We run around in circles—me, trying to save people; him, trying to kill people—and we always find each other at the end.
--
The hardest part is knowing that sometimes he wins.
Which means sometimes someone I was supposed to save dies.
--
When I succeed, it's the greatest victory. I get him on my terms, my conditions.
And when I fail, it's the greatest failure. He gets me on his terms, his conditions.
--
Tonight, I lost.
I can feel the hard, rough wall pressing into my back, and his nimble hands are roaming underneath my shirt. It always starts this way: at first, I'm numb to his lecherous hands, his lewd behavior, but then there's some undeniable pull that brings him back into focus—and then somehow, I've become an active participant in what I pretend is punishment. My sentence for my failure; his prize for his victory.
He conquers me in a way that doesn't make me feel defeated, but liberated. Driven. Motivated to win the next round. He has me against the wall, with his knee between my thighs, tonight, but I will have him begging underneath me next time.
His lips linger at my pulse, at the base of my neck, lapping and licking while he pushes my shirt up for a better view.
He moves his head down, placing it between the valley of my breasts; his warm breath caresses my skin as he moves to torment me. I feel him suckle, and my hands move to thread my fingers through his short locks, pressing him against me.
As soon as he hears me moan, he's tugging at my skirt.
Faintly, in the background, the sound of his belt buckle tinkles in the air, but I only really acknowledge the guttural groan he emits as I sink onto him.
When we move together, we surrender to each other—if only for that brief moment—both succumbing to the magnetic pull that has us hating and loving each other.
I feel his mouth on mine; it's rough and demanding. There is no gentleness, no subtle or playful enticements offered. It's instantly electric.
His fingers grip my waist, bruising the tender flesh, as he urges my hips downward so he can push himself further within me.
As he thrusts faster—harder—my breaths get shorter and his grunts more frequent.
We always tumble together. We climb to that peak and fall simultaneously into the dark abyss that greets us in a dizzying array of stray starlight and lingering cosmic dust.
--
I lay my head in the crook of his shoulder, panting for breath. He lets me rest for a moment before gruffly moving away. He enjoys watching me slump against the wall for strength—my vulnerability and weakness make him smile.
"You're beautiful when you lose," he grins sardonically.
I look at him, with murder in my eyes, and a festering hatred in my heart.
But I can't say anything.
His victory, his terms.
--
"Thanks," he calls over his shoulder as he walks away.