Kiss Prompts, 12 for A/These Hands LMAO
This is late LOL but it has been on my mind.
Kiss Prompt 12: A hoarse “Kiss me”.
Pairing: Adam du Mortain x f!Detective (Fiona Stonheart)
Warnings: G
Word Count: 629
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Adam’s been sparring with Fiona for nearly an hour.
When Fiona first started taking up supernatural combat training, she was slow. Predictable. Even given that she had some skills in mixed martial arts, she was barely much of a match for Morgan. But she persisted - and that alone garnered a trove of respect from him. Each time she went crashing to the mat, she sprang back up, bruised and tired but fists up and a determined grin on her face.
And now, months later, she was good. Almost as good as Agent Stonehart. Fiona’s light on her feet as she bounces around him in a circle, her eyes trained on every twitch he makes, looking for an opening to make a jab. It’s as much a psychological match as it is physical, their eyes locked onto each, searching for a feint or for a moment a weakness.
His own comes at a noise, at something clattering against the windows in the vaulted ceiling. It’s just for a moment that his eyes leave hers, yet it’s all the time she needs.
Fiona arcs in, her fist flying at his neck. Adam overcorrects when he swings back towards her to bat away her attack so much that he stumbles back on his feet. One leg kicks up as he falls and sweeps Fiona off of her feet, her eyes widening as she begins to fall with him.
Instinctively his arms dart out for her, wrapping around her waist as the back of his head hits the mat with a dull thud. He shuts his eyes against the monetary twinge of pain that explodes there.
When he opens them, it’s to Fiona, straddling his hips, her hands bracing against the mat on either side of his head. Some of her light brown hair has escaped her ponytail and now fall in waves around her face, clinging to the flushed cheeks. She’s so close that he can practically feel her heartbeat racing in her chest, different from before. It’s not from exertion, no, he knows the tune of that sound, it’s the skip-thud-thud he hears whenever he’s close by. Whenever they’re together.
Fiona’s tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, her eyes never leaving his. His breath hitches in his throat, his own heart stilling at the sight.
He wants to move, he wants to burn his hands against the heat of her arm, to tug her in closer until their chest to chest so that maybe she too could feel the tremor of excitement she elicits in him. He wants to hold her there, against him, wants to let his body sing with the joy of having her on him, having her surround him, wants to seal the promise of his love into the petal pink of her lips yet-
All he can manage past the sudden dryness of his throat is one breathless plea.
“Kiss me.”
Her pupils explode, black overtaking the honey gold of hazel. Her fingertips scrape against the rough material of the mat, draw against the contours of his face and into the short, sweaty strands of his hair, and she looks at him like she is reverent, like she has seen divinity instead of the devil, and good God his body thrums with so much need it’s like he could snap.
Fiona swoops down close, pauses for a breath so he can feel the smile curving at her lips, and she kisses him like so much rain cooling fire ravaged earth. It’s like a sigh of relief, a promise finally kept, and he welcomes it with his hands finding the small of her back and her name on his lips - Fiona Fiona Fiona - his grace for being allowed to revel in this marvelous gift of her.
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Tag List: @ejunkiet @lilyoffandoms
