suoxi: (Default)
Inara Serra ([personal profile] suoxi) wrote2013-07-28 01:51 am

for [personal profile] striker_eureka

(( continuing from here ))

Inara, true to her word, arrives at his door the next morning. She's better prepared to meet Max this time; she has a pouch of treats that she has acquired, and the dress is cotton - easier to clean - as opposed to silk.

She taps on the door, and waits.
striker_eureka: (up; proud)

/pouts forever

[personal profile] striker_eureka 2013-07-30 02:22 pm (UTC)(link)
He groans, trying to keep himself together, his fingers digging into the back of her neck as he thrusts up into her.

"C'mon, love," he growls, nibbling on her lip. "Let go for me."
striker_eureka: (crop; neutral)

/inches back towards bed

[personal profile] striker_eureka 2013-07-30 02:37 pm (UTC)(link)
God, she's magnificent. Hercules prides himself on control, but in the face of that? Well, it's a herculean — pardon the pun — effort that even he can't keep up.

He follows her quickly, bucking up against her with a shout, muscles standing out in sharp relief as the all clench involuntarily.
striker_eureka: (down; hot dad)

j-just a little??

[personal profile] striker_eureka 2013-07-30 02:47 pm (UTC)(link)
She's sweaty and a little heavy now that she's relaxed, but she feels so damn good slumped across his chest that he can't bring himself to complain.

Instead he just strokes his hands up her sides, panting quietly against her lips, just enjoying the moment.
striker_eureka: (down; good boy max)

[personal profile] striker_eureka 2013-07-30 06:08 pm (UTC)(link)
He's more than happy to wrap his arms around her and just hold on as she gets comfortable, smiling as she peppers his face with kisses. This is nice.

He tells her as much, giving in to the urge to rub the tip of his nose against hers.
striker_eureka: (down; good boy max)

[personal profile] striker_eureka 2013-07-31 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
It's been a very long time since Herc has slept with another body in his bed, but it's surprisingly easy to get used to, if the way he drifts off is any indication.

His customary nightmares thankfully take the day off, or at least, if they don't, they're not bad enough to send him clawing his way to consciousness with a scream caught in his throat. Instead, he spends his night sleeping with a face full of dark curls, and smooth limbs tangled with his own.