{A/N: I'm a dork. It's official.

So if you read Liete's "30 Meetings", you'll understand when I say that this is the night before to the morning after in chapter 23 of the fic. If you don't, GO READ IT NOW.

Either way. Yay porn! 8DDD}

Copperfire

I'm not in my right mind, no way, no

I'm in the back of a taxi on my back kissing back, back, I don't even care who is on top of me, really, but I stroke his face and his back anyway, hard and metal and soft. He holds my neck viciously, greedy. I don't know him but he's ever greedy, I think, I don't know how I even met him tonight. He says nothing but breathes in my mouth like a cigarette and something else, I don't remember. I don't remember, I don't remember, oh who gives a shit, we're practically having sex on the backseat of a taxi but we're still clothed. Why are we still clothed?

Spite, the car lurches and we fall into hard plastic. A bored and unhappy voice says something. I'm an inch from throwing my wallet at him, but it has my key attached. I pull out what looks like a lot as the hard metal soft touches my neck, my face, hand it over, forget change exists. I push him out first and pull him into my arms, kicking the door behind me as an afterthought, the last thought. He latches onto my front like a little kid, but bites into me more like a leech. It's late, it's late, my brain tells me, but somehow I'm stumbling in the back entrance and up the unlit unused back staircase, third floor, and he's trying to distract me, I think, I know, and his fingers burn like starfire along my neck and my arms, and I hitch him up higher in my arms but I have to put him down so I can open the third floor door, damn all doors, but he barely notices, breathing against my neck and bringing one of his now free legs between mine and grinds and fuck. Fuck.

I lean him against the door and lean into him and uuungh. He laughs against my skin. I growl and kiss him again, and he 'mmm's into me and I fumble, blind and sightless and fumbling, and I shiver and push and there and twist. And make sure not to fall. That would be bad, I think.

Stop thinking. You're not in your right mind

The, I think it's my, apartment floor is a lucky straight shot, but he fights me, hitting the stair door closed so he can press me against it and holds my shirt and humps my leg. I shiver and rut back, his weight a comfort, stifling and heavy. It's painful how horny I am, how he makes me. I don't know him but he's sex.

He pulls me back again, back, and maybe it's his apartment because he knows his way to the right door, and he leads me to it and I have to turn away because otherwise we'll never get in and even now I don't want to deal with that. He wraps against my back and buries his face in between my shoulder blades, and I lean my forehead against my door, breathing hard. Oxygen is good. He reaches up to press open mouths to the back of my neck and I start into action, unlocking the door quickly and I throw the key inside and spin around and we fall in, holding each other and clutching and drunk clumsy, and he hits the door again but pulls me to him and I brace my arms around him and lean into my cage and kiss him, hands at my head pulling me in before it's too sweet and he pushes me away and puts a hand on my chest, staring. I can't breathe as he walks me back slowly, like a dance but better because it's real, it'snot for show . His soul is copper, his eyes are it burning, green copperfire. We trade fire and I burn up, give up, break the distance to scoop him against me again, higher so I can kiss his body this time, his neck and the shirt needs to go.

I turn and slam my back into the bed door and it gives, bang, back, but his green eyes and his green hair and his green push me back faster, and I stumble but I catch him and I'm against something hard and low. Before he can push me again I step into him and he twists up around me, it's like we've done this before but we haven't, I don't know him, and he's all hot and panting and senses and he'll be the death of me now. I clear off the hard low object that was behind me and is now in front of me (it's a dresser) and set him down slowly, carefully, taking off his shirt and chucking it to the side and pulled his waist to me so I could suck on his shoulder. He tilts his head back and gasps as I kiss my way down his arm, lifting his hand and waiting until he looks at me before kissing the back, the palm. He snorts and pants, flustered.

"Wha- Wha-" he pants, pant, pant, trying to form a sentence. I let go of his hand and push my face into his neck, eyes closed and smelling. Alcohol and sweat and spearmint and something else. "What was that for?" he breathes, accent I don't remember. I pull away to stare and he looks away, I grip his chin and force him back slowly. We pant.

Something never happens because we stay there forever, staring at green and blue and trying and I don't remember. Finally I laugh, it ruffles his hair. "I don't remember." I push him back so I can climb up over him, the dresser groaning but it's heavy but it's too thin and the edges dig into my calves when I sit on them and on his thighs and I hover. I grin down at him and he makes a face. I reach up and rub a hand over his cheek, kiss it. He huffs against mine.

"Just get on with it," he whispers to me, clutching my shirt and pushing at me and I tilt and I curse shallow dressers as I tilt to the side and pitch to the ground, his hands in my shirt holding me for a moment before a rip and a thud and he follows, landing and we can't breathe for new reasons. I wheeze and hold him and I'm laughing wildly, and he joins me, and I can't breathe and I'm watering and I roll over, pinning him beneath me. We fade to a chuckle and we stare again, and he's smiling, finally brighter than his hard metal soft shine. I press my forehead against his, and rum and beer and something else mixes in the breath.

I crinkle my eyes at him, and he's still smiling, soft. "You really should smile more." Tilt forward, kiss. Still. I pull back and trail down. He gasps and his fists unclench and my shirt falls away. I pause to stare at it, and all I can do is laugh. He smiles again and throws it to the side and pulls me back up, suddenly desperate again. I fall in, chests pushed together and he's warmer than I thought, clutching at his sides, down to hips and under jeans, but I can't move too much because he's got my hair in a vice, never ever letting go, and I feel his desperation and take it into my own, kissing him back like life itself.

He rolls us again and we hit the foot of my bed painfully but not noticeably and takes control, holding my face in his hands softly and kisses me roughly, and I think both of us are wet all over by now so we don't try for neat and salivated, it's sloppy but we don't care. I shove my hands farther down his pants and his hands let me go quickly to help me take them off, lingering up my body on their return up, stroking fingers around my abs, chest, neck, nails drawing out circle shivers up my spine. I crack my eyes while we kiss to find him staring at me, hooded and dark and wanting and it hurts to see him, it hurts me. I close them again before I can cry and hold him softly. He feels like he can use a hug. Apparently he doesn't feel the same because he growls at me in my mouth and that feels good, it helps stop me thinking. Thinking is bad.

I'm not in my right mind, remember, don't remember

He grips my jaw and pulls me up, sitting in my lap, straddling, and I grip his ass and he moans, loud, but doesn't break mouths and keeps pulling me up, we're standing again, and his hands fall to my chest and he walks me back to the wall, jumps up in my arms of his own choice and I hold him there as he grinds down into me and God. He puts his arms against the wall for balance, slipping on the curtains, and his whole body is grinding and he's a genius.

"God, you're sexy," I whisper in his ear, and he shivers and shifts his hold on the wall, and the curtains fall and he gives up and goes back to my hair, I swear it's half gone already, and there's a picture frame in my back so I walk forward and tumble on my bed and he's green and red under me, staring up with wide eyes as I scratch out of my shoes and my jeans, staring at him lying back on my bed, mindless attention on my hands and my legs. It's definitely mine, not the. Mine.

I shove them off and throw them back, and they hit something and a fall and a shatter a moment later, but I'm already between his legs and reaching back to grip just above his knees and he throws his head back, breathless again. Why do we still have underwear on? I lift his knees to my shoulders so I can reach down freely to scrape them off, and he lifts his legs all the way up so I can slide them up and on the other side of my bed, and I reach down to mine but his legs fall and he sits up to stop me, chemical burn eyes pinning me still and I don't even notice I'm not breathing, he's so mesmerizing, and he pulls me more on my bed so he can push me vertical, head not quite on the pillows as I stare at him, crouch over me, eyes staring at mine even as he palms me, harsh and metal and soft, and he smirks as I moan. He bends and licks me wet through the fabric. A jolt, and I want to be in this tease.

I growl and flip us over, sticking my hand in my mouth and coating my fingers and he's still smirking at me. "Are you always this slow?" I ask, reaching down and slipping a finger in and he hisses, eyes closing. I miss (his my the) copperfire.

"I could ask- you the same thing," he chokes out between winces and moans. "Don't you have any real lube?"

I bend my finger and twist it. "Probably." He snaps his head up and glares at me, shoving me away, my finger slipping out. "Go find it, fool," he grumbles and I grin at him and dive to the side, he stops me, holds my face again. I stare at him as he slides my glasses away. "Take these away, too," he says, folding them up and folding them in my hand, kissing my free eyes so softly I miss it. I flick a salute at him.

"Yes, sir!" I beam, and he rolls his eyes and I finish my dive to my nightstand, throwing my glasses behind the blinking red digital 12:49 and sliding out the drawer lopsided, it sicks, I scramble blind for my bottle. I haven't used it in a while, so it's in the back, of course, and my arm can't quite reach without adjusting.

He sighs and rolls over, lying on my calves and resting his face against the back of my thigh. "You're not helping," I tell him without turning, pulling an inch closer to wrestle with the drawer to open straight. He hums against my skin and kisses my leg absently, almost, and my spine straightens, a sudden thrill. He licks the spot slowly and I melt forward, moaning something. He nuzzles it and I jerk the drawer and the contents spill forward and I catch the KY as it falls and he drags me back, not bothering to flip me over, climbing on my back and straddling and rutting and kissing and chewing my neck until I think he'll chew straight through my spine, and I dip my head back and he turns to the side to kiss the side of my neck, lift up and I can almost kiss him, almost, I turn my head but he pulls away.

I twist under him and we're face to face, and we stare and stare and I kiss him just as greedy as he always is, and he pulls me on top of him and holds my hand and he's taken the lube, I don't remember, but he's warming it up and guiding and staring. I let myself flow as he wants and he's pleasuring himself vicariously, and I want to bury into his shoulder but that would mean no eye contact so I stay where I am, and I fell into burning rings of fire. He wraps his legs around me and thrusts up into my finger and why do I still have my underwear on, no, no more. He adds my second as I struggle to stay hovering and nudge off my boxers, but it isn't working, he doesn't help but he helps me, free hand at my back and down and he lets go of me to finish the job and I take off, fucking with a rhythm and just two and he convulses, using his feet to help him push down and the entire time we're kissing, it's just we can't get enough of each other and I don't know him.

I'll never be in my right mind again, this is too much not to last forever ever

I slide in a third as my boxers come off enough, it's enough, and he abandons them so he can hold my neck again and we slide together and I really do bury into his shoulder this time, free arm wrapping his waist and holding him there, and I stretch out.

"Oh, get on with it!" he cries, and I comply, pulling out so I can slick up and he's helping me, hard metal softly, and I throw the bottle behind me and thunk and I turn my face to lick up the shell of his ear, it's textured and metallic and it's the best thing I've done all night, obviously, because he shudders and pushes me in without a second thought beyond a scream. I rub my cheek against his and sigh into his ear and he grumbles and pulls me down with his ankles, and I'm shuddering and gasping into him because I can't think of anyone ever this warm around me, this tight, I can't think, and he wraps around my shoulders and wraps me closer and my back is freezing now, but my front is so warm so I ignore it. His hands wander around, rub the back of my arms and I sigh and I kiss him and I bury in deep. He grunts and twists around, trying to find a comfort zone but there isn't one, not yet, and we breathe each other and he smells less like alcohol and more like spearmint, sweat strong, and something else, still there, and he licks at what skin he can reach and he's desperate so it switches quickly to kissing and biting and I move so he can lick and kiss and bite my mouth and he's eating me and I thrust in and he screams. He's so desperate I pull back and in and he's not going to scream again, he thinks, I don't know, I don't know him. I set a rhythm, and he's all pleasure now, not screaming but loud in my mouth, coming up to meet me and just just God.

I've stopped thinking, my mind isn't right. I don't think it will be again

We're sweating and panting and swearing up a storm and we're still going, going, don't even know what's going on, I'm out of my mind and I don't remember, but he's under me and I can't think so I kiss him. I can't breathe anyway, so there's really no difference. He's plasma in my hands, not a solid or a liquid but he burns like lightning and shuddering and thunder in his bones, coming out in his breath and I drink it up, it's so good, and we push and pull back and forwards. He reaches down but I'm too quick and it's stroking and sheer oblivion for both of us and there's rain and I'm falling, we're falling, back and down into humidity and breath like sunbeams and I hold him in the sunshine. It's dark outside, of course.

He breathes into my hair, and I kiss his shell of an ear lazily, almost mouthing, no tongue now, put that away, I still taste the hard metal so He sighs under me and I roll away, he comes with me and he's so light I think I should be worried, I don't, I don't remember. He stares at me with those copperfire eyes, a rim around depth and what burns black, I don't know, I don't think there is anything. That fits. I smile at him, and he smiles back, and he's just adorable, I don't know him but he's adorable. I rub my nose against his and he laughs and I adore.

Who needs a right mind anyway?