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ciirceeWow. Porn. Of the porniest sort of porn. The only reason this isn't...more...is because I didn't write in Sawyer's idea of the next game, which involved a stash of scissors, razors, and shaving creme. Good lord.
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misbegotten, this is for you. I think you know why. I just hope that you still respect me in the morning. *giggles madly*
EDIT: To add disclaimer etc.
Disclaimer: The Bad Robots are NOT this Bad.
Dedication: Ms B. Because she, unintentionally, makes me think porn-y thoughts.
Notes: Um. Yeah. Un-beta'd because I wrote this in about an hour and if I don't post it NOW, then I probably will not. And the Internet needs more porn, damnit! It's not the best written fic ever. I'm sure the POV's are a nightmare. I don't really care. I don't usually write porn because I'm bad at it and since I DID write some, I'm determined to post it. The Net needs more porn, I say!
The Game
It started out innocently enough. It was only talk. Dirty, sure, during sex, true, but nothing but talk. It had even started gradually.
“Oh, god, her hair…god, there…in your…your hands,” Claire had moaned, her own hands grasping fitfully at Charlie’s shoulders, her head thrown back.
And Charlie had gasped, thrusting harder, and bit her ear. “His cock,” he’d ground out, panting, “right there, right there, right there.”
They’d shattered, scaring the birds from the nearby trees. Afterwards, drowsy and in love, they’d looked at each other and giggled at their own naughtiness. They hadn’t named any names. Not that time. Eventually, that had changed and other names had rolled off of their tongues and into the wild, frenzied fucks that The Game always inspired.
Oddly enough, they’d only fallen more in love as The Game continued. Charlie would get a mad, devilish look on his face and nod meaningfully at the latest, unaware participant and Claire would laugh. Claire would do something, some causal, physical thing to a certain castaway and whoever Charlie was talking with at the time would have to wait for his train of thought to regain the track it had jumped.
New rules were always being introduced, new ways of play always found. Gradually they stopped trying to not get caught in the act and started trying to be overheard. It had been Charlie’s idea; keep the name of the player behind locked lips, but let the player know exactly what those locked lips were good for.
It turned out that both Charlie and Claire were screamers and pretty soon half the island knew it.
Then came the day when Claire had coined a new twist to The Game. She’d been riding Charlie and riding him hard. He’d barely been able to see her through his crossed eyes but it hadn’t mattered when she’d swooped down to bite his chin. He’d gripped handfuls of her hair, luxuriating in the feel of the smooth mass in his hands. He’d keened with loss the when she’d torn his hands away but that had swiftly changed into a hopeful whimper when she’d pinned them to the ground.
She had grinned at him, her lithe body straining above his, and laughed softly when he struggled. “I want Sun,” she’d whispered. Charlie had stilled beneath her and she slowed her body’s motion, teasing him, sliding almost all the way off of him, bobbing so that the head of his cock slipped in and out in minute increments. “That small, neat body, those eyes; I want to fuck her, Charlie,” she’d taunted him. “I’m going to. She’s keeping secrets and I want to lick them out of her.”
Beneath her, Charlie had exploded. He locked his hands on hers, iron hard, and rolled, crushing her under him. “Are you?” he’d panted, eyes wild. She’d nodded frantically as he’d plunged hard inside her. “I’m going to watch,” he’d promised. “Every second, every touch. I’m going to watch and then I’m going to have you.”
“No you won’t,” she denied him just to feel him move harder, more insistently.
“Oh, I will. And you’ll beg me. You’ll beg for it.”
“Make me.”
That was the night that Sun started avoiding being alone with them, in any way, and they figured out that she probably spoke more English than she let on. They’d spent a week and a half backing one another into dark recesses and laughing breathlessly.
But they hadn’t played The Game since. Not until…
“Pick somebody, Charlie,” Claire panted, writhing as Charlie ran his fingers through the nest of curls that was quickly becoming soaked.
“You,” Charlie murmured, utterly besotted. He licked the crest of her hip. “I pick you.”
Claire clutched his hand, rubbing the heel of it in a hard circle over her mound. “Pick somebody like I picked Sun,” she moaned, arching.
Charlie stroked his thumb over the soft skin where her thigh met her body and thought. He’d never been conventional, had always promised himself that he’d try anything the world had to offer him, and he had the sneaking suspicion that naming another man was exactly what Claire wanted.
The problem was: who? As much as he liked Hurley, he just couldn’t see the other man as being into their kind of games. Jack he just couldn’t picture…at all. He was pretty sure that Boone, while certainly pretty enough, was fucking his own sister and he wasn’t sure that either he or Claire could handle Sayid’s intensity without begging him to make them his subs. That left one person, rather more or less.
“Sawyer,” he said drawing away from her completely. “Sawyer.”
Her choked off groan perfectly coincided with a drawling southern accent saying, “My ears are burning, Jitters.” From the look on Sawyer’s face, he hadn’t had a clue as to what had been going on just around the bend in the beach. “Christ, you two…”
Charlie didn’t much care about the look on Sawyer’s face, since, at the sound of his voice, Claire’s eyes had rolled back in her head. “C’mere,” he commanded, rolling Claire onto her stomach.
“What?”
“Come,” Charlie repeated distinctly, “here.” When Sawyer didn’t move, Charlie drew Claire up to kneel, spreading her knees with his hands. “You don’t want to play?” he asked innocently, knowing what a picture Claire made in the position he’d put her in.
“It’s not my bag,” Sawyer said, but his voice had dropped several notes and he didn’t fool anybody.
“Sawyer,” Claire’s voice was hazy and indistinct. She inched back, sitting in Charlie’s lap. “Come and play with us.”
Charlie hitched her up, sliding her back down over his cock with loud moan. “We’ve been waiting,” he said, when he could manage. “She’s all wet. So hot,” he murmured, pressing kisses along her neck, shifting her hair over her shoulder and knowing it was hiding just enough of her breasts to drive a man insane.
“Hell,” Sawyer swore.
Claire stopped him before he’d taken more than two steps. “Strip.” The look on his face made her laugh, made her tighten around Charlie out of sheer anticipation. “It’s a naked game,” she said by way of explanation. She reached behind her and locked her arms around Charlie’s neck. “Hurry up,” she ordered, rocking her hips impatiently.
“My choice, love,” Charlie hummed, “so it’s your call. What do you want to do with the newest member of the team?”
Watching Sawyer strip, watching all the long, lovely lengths of tanned skin appear, she licked her lips. “Kiss him,” she decided at last. As Sawyer knelt in front of her, she turned her head away, resting her cheek against Charlie’s shoulder. “You kiss him,” she clarified.
“No,” Sawyer said. Or, rather, tried to say. Charlie’s arm had shot out and a calloused hand had wrapped itself around the back of his neck, dragging him forward. “No way,” he tried again, only to have the words swallowed by the bassist’s mouth as it crashed down upon his. Distantly he heard Claire moan out a handful of four-letter words. “Okay, yeah,” he muttered as Charlie’s tongue traced over his lower lip.
Charlie bit Sawyer’s lower lip and then smiled at him. “That’s the spirit,” he told him.
Sawyer bit him back, hard enough to make him gasp, and held on. “Fuck you,” he said when he let go. Charlie laughed and between them, Claire’s body jerked hard. “We didn’t forget you, Peaches,” he tried for his old, cocky tone of voice and succeeded well enough. “I hear it’s your call,” he added, cupping both her breasts and pinching her nipples.
“I want…” she began, but Charlie cut her off.
“Wait a second, love,” he sounded amused and looked predatory. “You’ve taken your turn. I’ve had mine. It’s Sawyer’s go.”
“And what if I say I want to fuck her?” Sawyer challenged.
Claire cried out sharply as Charlie lunged forward, shoving Sawyer to the ground with a hard push on his shoulder. A moment later and Claire was straddling him, draped over his body as Charlie wrapped himself around her from behind. “No problem, mate. My turn…” he nibbled Claire’s shoulder and slid his fingers to rub at where her body enveloped Sawyers. “I say we make her wait. Patience is a virtue,” he reminded her.
Claire raked a furrow down Sawyer’s chest. “Two against one says I fuck you both until you can’t move,” she growled.
“I’m with her,” Sawyer agreed, thrusting up as hard as he could, swearing at the resistance he met when Charlie bore back down against them. “Problem, Jitters?”
Charlie shook his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “I just hate being overruled.”
“I’ll make it all better,” Claire promised.
“Yes, you will,” Charlie said authoritatively. “Now, as much as I love playing a round or two on the back courses,” he murmured, spreading her cheeks with his hands and sliding his cock along the shallow groove.
“Please,” Claire mewled as the soft skin and wiry hair of his testicles teased her.
“Please,” Sawyer added meaningfully.
“I don’t,” Charlie continued as though he hadn’t heard them, moving lazily against the frantic rhythm they’d set up, “have the time to gain access to the club. I’m going to play the terrain available and somebody is going to make it up to me later.” He picked up his pace, matching the furor below him.
“Okay,” Sawyer whimpered gratefully, the sound of the surf crashing against the sound of the blood rushing through his body.
“God, yes,” Claire moaned, pleasure mixing with promise.
Charlie licked the outline of Claire’s shoulder blade, lapping up the sweat there before leaning past her to share the taste of her with Sawyer in a lewd, open-aired kiss that was more licking tongues than anything else. “Then let’s proceed to the second half of this game,” he murmured.
Turned out that Sawyer was a screamer too and that he giggled like a schoolboy.
misbegotten, this is for you. I think you know why. I just hope that you still respect me in the morning. *giggles madly*EDIT: To add disclaimer etc.
Disclaimer: The Bad Robots are NOT this Bad.
Dedication: Ms B. Because she, unintentionally, makes me think porn-y thoughts.
Notes: Um. Yeah. Un-beta'd because I wrote this in about an hour and if I don't post it NOW, then I probably will not. And the Internet needs more porn, damnit! It's not the best written fic ever. I'm sure the POV's are a nightmare. I don't really care. I don't usually write porn because I'm bad at it and since I DID write some, I'm determined to post it. The Net needs more porn, I say!
The Game
It started out innocently enough. It was only talk. Dirty, sure, during sex, true, but nothing but talk. It had even started gradually.
“Oh, god, her hair…god, there…in your…your hands,” Claire had moaned, her own hands grasping fitfully at Charlie’s shoulders, her head thrown back.
And Charlie had gasped, thrusting harder, and bit her ear. “His cock,” he’d ground out, panting, “right there, right there, right there.”
They’d shattered, scaring the birds from the nearby trees. Afterwards, drowsy and in love, they’d looked at each other and giggled at their own naughtiness. They hadn’t named any names. Not that time. Eventually, that had changed and other names had rolled off of their tongues and into the wild, frenzied fucks that The Game always inspired.
Oddly enough, they’d only fallen more in love as The Game continued. Charlie would get a mad, devilish look on his face and nod meaningfully at the latest, unaware participant and Claire would laugh. Claire would do something, some causal, physical thing to a certain castaway and whoever Charlie was talking with at the time would have to wait for his train of thought to regain the track it had jumped.
New rules were always being introduced, new ways of play always found. Gradually they stopped trying to not get caught in the act and started trying to be overheard. It had been Charlie’s idea; keep the name of the player behind locked lips, but let the player know exactly what those locked lips were good for.
It turned out that both Charlie and Claire were screamers and pretty soon half the island knew it.
Then came the day when Claire had coined a new twist to The Game. She’d been riding Charlie and riding him hard. He’d barely been able to see her through his crossed eyes but it hadn’t mattered when she’d swooped down to bite his chin. He’d gripped handfuls of her hair, luxuriating in the feel of the smooth mass in his hands. He’d keened with loss the when she’d torn his hands away but that had swiftly changed into a hopeful whimper when she’d pinned them to the ground.
She had grinned at him, her lithe body straining above his, and laughed softly when he struggled. “I want Sun,” she’d whispered. Charlie had stilled beneath her and she slowed her body’s motion, teasing him, sliding almost all the way off of him, bobbing so that the head of his cock slipped in and out in minute increments. “That small, neat body, those eyes; I want to fuck her, Charlie,” she’d taunted him. “I’m going to. She’s keeping secrets and I want to lick them out of her.”
Beneath her, Charlie had exploded. He locked his hands on hers, iron hard, and rolled, crushing her under him. “Are you?” he’d panted, eyes wild. She’d nodded frantically as he’d plunged hard inside her. “I’m going to watch,” he’d promised. “Every second, every touch. I’m going to watch and then I’m going to have you.”
“No you won’t,” she denied him just to feel him move harder, more insistently.
“Oh, I will. And you’ll beg me. You’ll beg for it.”
“Make me.”
That was the night that Sun started avoiding being alone with them, in any way, and they figured out that she probably spoke more English than she let on. They’d spent a week and a half backing one another into dark recesses and laughing breathlessly.
But they hadn’t played The Game since. Not until…
“Pick somebody, Charlie,” Claire panted, writhing as Charlie ran his fingers through the nest of curls that was quickly becoming soaked.
“You,” Charlie murmured, utterly besotted. He licked the crest of her hip. “I pick you.”
Claire clutched his hand, rubbing the heel of it in a hard circle over her mound. “Pick somebody like I picked Sun,” she moaned, arching.
Charlie stroked his thumb over the soft skin where her thigh met her body and thought. He’d never been conventional, had always promised himself that he’d try anything the world had to offer him, and he had the sneaking suspicion that naming another man was exactly what Claire wanted.
The problem was: who? As much as he liked Hurley, he just couldn’t see the other man as being into their kind of games. Jack he just couldn’t picture…at all. He was pretty sure that Boone, while certainly pretty enough, was fucking his own sister and he wasn’t sure that either he or Claire could handle Sayid’s intensity without begging him to make them his subs. That left one person, rather more or less.
“Sawyer,” he said drawing away from her completely. “Sawyer.”
Her choked off groan perfectly coincided with a drawling southern accent saying, “My ears are burning, Jitters.” From the look on Sawyer’s face, he hadn’t had a clue as to what had been going on just around the bend in the beach. “Christ, you two…”
Charlie didn’t much care about the look on Sawyer’s face, since, at the sound of his voice, Claire’s eyes had rolled back in her head. “C’mere,” he commanded, rolling Claire onto her stomach.
“What?”
“Come,” Charlie repeated distinctly, “here.” When Sawyer didn’t move, Charlie drew Claire up to kneel, spreading her knees with his hands. “You don’t want to play?” he asked innocently, knowing what a picture Claire made in the position he’d put her in.
“It’s not my bag,” Sawyer said, but his voice had dropped several notes and he didn’t fool anybody.
“Sawyer,” Claire’s voice was hazy and indistinct. She inched back, sitting in Charlie’s lap. “Come and play with us.”
Charlie hitched her up, sliding her back down over his cock with loud moan. “We’ve been waiting,” he said, when he could manage. “She’s all wet. So hot,” he murmured, pressing kisses along her neck, shifting her hair over her shoulder and knowing it was hiding just enough of her breasts to drive a man insane.
“Hell,” Sawyer swore.
Claire stopped him before he’d taken more than two steps. “Strip.” The look on his face made her laugh, made her tighten around Charlie out of sheer anticipation. “It’s a naked game,” she said by way of explanation. She reached behind her and locked her arms around Charlie’s neck. “Hurry up,” she ordered, rocking her hips impatiently.
“My choice, love,” Charlie hummed, “so it’s your call. What do you want to do with the newest member of the team?”
Watching Sawyer strip, watching all the long, lovely lengths of tanned skin appear, she licked her lips. “Kiss him,” she decided at last. As Sawyer knelt in front of her, she turned her head away, resting her cheek against Charlie’s shoulder. “You kiss him,” she clarified.
“No,” Sawyer said. Or, rather, tried to say. Charlie’s arm had shot out and a calloused hand had wrapped itself around the back of his neck, dragging him forward. “No way,” he tried again, only to have the words swallowed by the bassist’s mouth as it crashed down upon his. Distantly he heard Claire moan out a handful of four-letter words. “Okay, yeah,” he muttered as Charlie’s tongue traced over his lower lip.
Charlie bit Sawyer’s lower lip and then smiled at him. “That’s the spirit,” he told him.
Sawyer bit him back, hard enough to make him gasp, and held on. “Fuck you,” he said when he let go. Charlie laughed and between them, Claire’s body jerked hard. “We didn’t forget you, Peaches,” he tried for his old, cocky tone of voice and succeeded well enough. “I hear it’s your call,” he added, cupping both her breasts and pinching her nipples.
“I want…” she began, but Charlie cut her off.
“Wait a second, love,” he sounded amused and looked predatory. “You’ve taken your turn. I’ve had mine. It’s Sawyer’s go.”
“And what if I say I want to fuck her?” Sawyer challenged.
Claire cried out sharply as Charlie lunged forward, shoving Sawyer to the ground with a hard push on his shoulder. A moment later and Claire was straddling him, draped over his body as Charlie wrapped himself around her from behind. “No problem, mate. My turn…” he nibbled Claire’s shoulder and slid his fingers to rub at where her body enveloped Sawyers. “I say we make her wait. Patience is a virtue,” he reminded her.
Claire raked a furrow down Sawyer’s chest. “Two against one says I fuck you both until you can’t move,” she growled.
“I’m with her,” Sawyer agreed, thrusting up as hard as he could, swearing at the resistance he met when Charlie bore back down against them. “Problem, Jitters?”
Charlie shook his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “I just hate being overruled.”
“I’ll make it all better,” Claire promised.
“Yes, you will,” Charlie said authoritatively. “Now, as much as I love playing a round or two on the back courses,” he murmured, spreading her cheeks with his hands and sliding his cock along the shallow groove.
“Please,” Claire mewled as the soft skin and wiry hair of his testicles teased her.
“Please,” Sawyer added meaningfully.
“I don’t,” Charlie continued as though he hadn’t heard them, moving lazily against the frantic rhythm they’d set up, “have the time to gain access to the club. I’m going to play the terrain available and somebody is going to make it up to me later.” He picked up his pace, matching the furor below him.
“Okay,” Sawyer whimpered gratefully, the sound of the surf crashing against the sound of the blood rushing through his body.
“God, yes,” Claire moaned, pleasure mixing with promise.
Charlie licked the outline of Claire’s shoulder blade, lapping up the sweat there before leaning past her to share the taste of her with Sawyer in a lewd, open-aired kiss that was more licking tongues than anything else. “Then let’s proceed to the second half of this game,” he murmured.
Turned out that Sawyer was a screamer too and that he giggled like a schoolboy.
