#gutterbugs

[creaturecaper]

You know how avid book readers are "bookworms"? Well I think it would be really neat if comic readers could be called "gutterbugs" because of how those blank spaces in between panels are called the gutters.

That's just what I'll call comic readers from now on actually.

[cryingjester]

for music recs if u haven't listened to the dresden dolls I think you'd like them 👀

Ive only heard a couple songs from them! Whats ur favorite by them 🥺😅

[leclassycaniveau]

Kiss the Mechanic

@histoireeternelle here! 

Anon said: seeing a fic where Red & Liz go at it on the hood of one of his cars would make me a very happy camper!

Here you go!

Wandering the house they were staying in, Liz was looking for Red. After four days here, sharing his bed, she had woken up alone, surrounded by cold sheets. It was the first time his mouth hadn’t been on her when she opened her eyes. And she was missing his warmth and the soft moans he made when he made love to her in the morning. He had been insatiable. Since the moment they had breached that barrier in their relationship, he had worshipped her body at every opportunity. But not today. Today, she was alone.

She was in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee, when she heard a muffled groan come from behind the door at the back of the room. She knew that door led to the garage, but had never been curious enough to push it open. Coffee in hand, she walked to the door and silently opened it. Taking a step inside, her breath caught in her chest. The room was immense and filled with vintage cars.

In front of her stood a red 1958 Plymouth Fury, the paint exactly matching the one she recalled from the movie Christine. She ran her fingertips along the hood, walking further into the room. A few feet away, her eyes stopped on a cream colored 1949 Buick Roadmaster Convertible. Rain Man’s car.

Frowning, Liz kept walking, her fingers brushing the immaculate paint of the cars. They all seemed to be iconic cars from old movies.

Here was James Bond’s silver 1963 Aston Martin DB5 and there a 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500 she recognized from Gone in 60 Seconds. She smiled when she spotted Sam and Dean’s black ‘67 Chevrolet Impala, shaking her head. Who’d have thought Raymond Reddington was such a movie geek?

Some weren’t movie cars. She could see at least two Mercedes S-Class sedans, near the garage door. They were obviously the ones Red used the most.

A soft grunt from the other side of the room startled her. Fascinated by the cars around her, she had forgotten why she had walked into the room in the first place. Listening carefully, she followed the metallic sounds she could hear from the far corner of the garage. Navigating between more vintage cars she didn’t recognize, she found what she was looking for.

A pair of legs clad in blue coveralls jutted from underneath the rarest car she had seen so far. James Dean’s ‘55 Porsche 550 Spyder. She must have made a noise, because the legs rolled from under the car, followed by Red’s torso and arms, and finally his head. He smiled when he saw her standing in front of the car, clad in one of his dress shirts and nothing more. From his spot on the floor, he must have had an eyeful of what was underneath the shirt, too.

“I was alone when I woke up,” Liz said, almost guiltily, when she saw his smile.

He jumped to his feet after dropping the tool in his hand and trailed his eyes over her body, his eyes darkening at the sight. Liz swallowed noisily at the sight of him. The coverall sleeves were knotted at his waist, his upper body clad in a stained white tank top, leaving his broad shoulders bare. She could see the muscles roll under his skin when he moved his shoulders and stretched his back, his spine cracking softly in the silence of the room. His hands were black with grease and some of it had spread up to his elbows. A single smudged stain marred his cheek.

He was gorgeous.

“You want to see my latest acquisition?” he asked, ignoring her words, a strange glint in his eyes.

“Sure,” she replied, a little bit disappointed he didn’t kiss her good morning or propose a shower.

His hand hovering over the small of her back, he led her to the other side of the garage, where the most recent cars were parked. He stopped in front of a black sedan, with sleek lines that were a joy to behold. She looked at Red, puzzled. Yes, the car was beautiful, but it didn’t explain the grin on his lips.

“This is a Tesla Model S,” he said, his grin still in place. “You might think it’s just another car, but it’s custom made. Put your hand on the hood,” he added.

He nodded his head in encouragement when she hesitated. Shrugging, Liz placed her free hand on the car for a second before taking it back, looking at Red. He nodded again and she followed his stare. On the hood, where she had touched it, a soft, creamy pink handprint was disappearing, eaten by the black paint.

“How…?”

“Thermochromic paint,” he said smugly, that strange gleam back in his eyes. “It changes color with the temperature,” he explained, taking a step forward.

He grabbed the cup in her hand before the coffee could spill over and, walking to the side of the car, laid it down on the floor next to the wheel. A sigh escaped Liz’s lips when he bent at the waist, the coverall hugging his bottom snugly. Feeling her eyes on him, he wriggled his ass playfully before standing up, smiling. He tilted his head to the side when he saw Liz worrying her lower lip before taking a step forward. Then another. Until he was standing a breath away from her. She was trapped between his body and the car behind her, exactly where he wanted her.

He took another step and her behind hit the hood of the car, her hands braced against the metal to keep her balance. His stare fixed on the material of his shirt stretched over her breasts and, from the corner of his eye, he saw red paint appear around her fingers and smiled smugly.   

Good, he thought. Her skin was much warmer now than it had been when she put her hand on the car the first time. Since the moment he had bought this car, seeing the imprint of Liz’s ass in the paint had been one of his fantasies. Even before they breached that last barrier, he had had Lizzie in mind.

“The shirt,” she breathed when he put his greasy hands on her hips to lift her onto the hood.

He shrugged, leaning forward to kiss her chest where it was exposed by the open collar of the shirt, pushing her to lay her back on the hood. The bumperless car offered no purchase for Liz’s feet and she started slipping, her sweaty palms leaving red streaks on the otherwise black car. Red grabbed her thigh, stopping her movement, and put it around his waist, leaving a dark handprint on her creamy skin. Following his gesture, Liz wrapped her other leg around him, locking her feet behind his back.

Her core now pressed against the knot at his waist, Liz ground her hips against him, gasping at the sensation. The rough fabric of the coverall was doing marvels for her clit. She had been wet since the moment she saw him in those clothes, and was determined to get satisfaction soon. His greasy hands yanking her shirt open and his mouth closing on her left breast seemed to indicate he was in the same state of mind.

She groaned when he swirled his tongue around her nipple, teasing it into a taut peak. One hand braced against the car, he squeezed her breast with the other, smearing it with grease. She pushed at his shoulders, her breast slipping from his lips as he straightened, arching an eyebrow in surprise. Her legs sliding from his waist to the back of his thighs, Liz pulled at the knot — untying the sleeves, she pushed the coverall down his legs with her feet. She watched him step out of it, his hands grabbing the bottom of his top and yanking it over his head.

The sensation of his clothes against her had been amazing, but Liz knew how skillful he was with his tongue. And she had missed him in their bed when she woke up all alone. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into her.

Bracing his weight on his hands on each side of her, Red resisted.

“Is there something you might need, sweetheart?” he asked, grinning.

“Kiss me, or I swear to God…”

He smiled down at her, crooking an eyebrow. He loved bossy Lizzie as much as he loved tender Lizzie. She kept pulling at his neck for a moment until he decided to give in and closed the distance between their lips. But before he could kiss her, Liz put her hand on his mouth, stopping him.

“Not here,” she said.

Her hands slid from around his neck to his shoulders. He waited to see what she would do next and smirked when she pushed at his shoulders until he was kneeling on the concrete floor, using his discarded clothes as a cushion. Her legs were now on his shoulders, her bare foot caressing the back of his head tenderly.

“Here?” he asked, turning his head to kiss her knee. “Maybe not,” Red murmured when she sighed, her foot behind his head directing him where she needed him. He trailed his lips up her inner thigh, kissing and nipping at her soft skin. “Here?” he brushed his lips to the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs.

She moaned, the sound rumbling up her throat when he inhaled her scent deeply, filling his lungs with her essence. He could hear her pant, her back now flat on the hood of his car; he could see the red paint under her ass when she moved upward.

“Please, Raymond.” She finally gave in and begged.

Smiling smugly, Red slid his tongue into her, scooping up the moisture he found there, then ran his tongue up her folds to her clit. He could feel her tremble under his tongue, her back arched, her thighs tensed around his head, only his hands on her hips keeping her in place. She cried out when he closed his mouth on her clit, his tongue circling the tight bundle of nerves, never touching it directly. Her hips bucked against the grip of his hands, his fingers digging into her flesh to keep her still. His tongue now flat on her clit, he rubbed and circled, the tip of his teeth grazing her until Liz cried out, her thighs clamped on his head, the heels of her feet digging into his upper back. Red kept his tongue on her, prolonging her orgasm until she pushed feebly at his shoulders with her fingertips.

He sat back on his haunches when her legs released their grip on his head and ran his tongue over his lips, enjoying the taste of her. Looking up, he smiled when he saw her sprawled on the hood of the Tesla, patches of red paint, where her hands had tried to find some purchase on the polished metal, disappearing slowly. He could see her breasts rising rhythmically with her short breaths.

Moving her legs from his shoulders, Red stood up, his hands still on her thighs to keep her on the car. She was even more magnificent from this angle. The open shirt formed wings on either side of her body, the bright white cutting through the black of the hood; her dark hair was plastered to her sweaty forehead. His eyes traced the soft curves of her body, pausing on her breast where the imprint of his greasy hand stood out on her creamy skin, before moving to her hips, her ass surrounded by red where her body heat had activated the thermochromic paint. Looking down, he growled when he saw the moisture on the edge of the hood, and his cock throbbed in his boxers, begging to be buried deep into her heat.   

“Hold on to me,” he murmured.

Liz opened an eye slowly, her foggy brain trying to understand what he was talking about. It took her a few seconds before she could manage to wrap her legs around his waist. She rolled her head to the side, looking past her shoulder to see what he was doing when she felt his hands leave her thighs. Bending at the waist to slide his underwear down his legs, she gasped when he kissed her navel. She felt him kick his boxers to the side and watched his hands land on the car on each side of her, his body hovering over her. She looked up and, meeting his feverish eyes, Liz opened her mouth to speak, but his lips crashing on hers silenced her. She moaned deeply when his tongue met hers; her taste still lingering in his mouth sent a shiver up her spine.

Her legs sliding from his waist to his hips, Liz used her feet to pull him in, his arms bending at the elbows to cover her body with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him in place and ground her hips against him. His cock, trapped between them, rubbed against her oversensitive clit, sending jolts of electricity through her body. She drank his deep growl from his lips when she moved again, feeling his hand sneak with difficulty between their bodies to position his length at her entrance.

They both gasped, breaking the kiss, when Red slammed into her, the sound of flesh against flesh reverberating in the room. Their eyes locked, they moved at a frantic pace, their hips meeting thrust for thrust, the sweaty skin of his chest rubbing against her breasts, his hands cradling her head; she felt heat coil in her lower belly, fire flooding her veins. His mouth kissing her eyes, lips, nose, forehead, interwoven with her name breathed with adoration, with each thrust of his hips, was adding the tenderness she craved. Her nails digging into his back, her back arched, plastering her breasts to his chest, Liz felt herself fall over the edge once again on a cry of pleasure, taking him with her.

She ran her hands over his back when Red collapsed on her, his breath puffing on her rapidly cooling skin; she tenderly caressed the nape of his neck when he kissed her shoulder.

“You okay?” he breathed, shifting his weight to his elbows and looking down at her.

“I think we need a shower,” she replied with a smile, before kissing his lips.

He kissed her back before straightening his back. He took in her soft curves, smeared with grease, until his eyes met the point where their bodies were still joined. He brushed a fingertip over her clit, making her whimper, before stepping back, his softening cock slipping from her heat. She was still sprawled on the car, her spread legs hanging over the hood. Red watched as the mixture of their bliss slid down the curves of her ass and onto the bright red paint of the hood.

Not bothering with underwear, Red slipped the coverall back on and knotted the sleeves around his hips, before turning back to Liz. He kissed her lower belly once more, interweaving his fingers with hers, and helped her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her when she wobbled on unsteady legs, pulling her against his chest. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, her arms around him, and he lay his cheek on the top of her head.

They both needed a shower, but for now, the tenderness of their embrace was enough to keep them happy and warm.

Behind them, on the hood, the bright red shape of their joined bodies was disappearing slowly, eaten by the black paint.    

[leclassycaniveau]

Cockblocked

@histoireeternelle again!  @peanyc prompted: Red and Liz are stuck in the basement. And the Furby is watching, and commenting!

A/N: This fic is set in my The Admiral and the Profiler series. You don’t have to read it to understand. Just know that Red’s family never got killed/disappeared, he became Admiral and then SECNAV. Liz and Red are together and they have a baby boy named Samuel. Liz and Jennifer are friends since childhood. 

“Lizzie! Can you come down for a second?” Red called from the basement.

He could hear people chatting in the living room, bottles clinking against glasses when one of their guests decided that the bartender wasn’t fast enough to refill their drink, and the music — that stupid pop music Jennifer loved so much. He was sure she had chosen the playlist for the evening just to annoy him. But it was her engagement party, and he knew he had to endure it for her sake. His precious baby was getting married, and he was in the wine cellar in the basement, looking for that stupid bottle he had kept for this occasion since the day she was born.

“Red?” Liz’s voice called from the kitchen.

“Downstairs!” he replied, and he heard her unsteady steps getting closer.

She had stopped breastfeeding Sammy a week ago, and it was the first time since discovering her pregnancy that she had indulged herself with alcohol. And she was already tipsy after only a couple of champagne flutes. She appeared at the top of the staircase, her hand on the opened door to keep her balance, and looked down at Red.

“What are you doing down there?” she asked.

“I’m looking for that bottle of wine I kept from the day Jenny was born. Did you move it?” he replied, climbing a few steps.

“No. It’s still in the wine cellar.”

Liz took a step forward, her foot catching on the piece of wood that held the door open, and lost her balance. She felt like she was flying for a second before her brain registered what happened and she cried out in fear. But before she could crash onto the stairs, two strong arms closed around her, and she landed on Red’s chest. He grabbed the banister to hold them up.

“You okay?” he asked, looking down.

“Yeah, sorry,” she replied, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Both stayed silent a moment before bursting into a fit of laugher. They were still laughing when they heard the soft click of the door closing at the top of the stairs. Standing still, they looked at each other before, simultaneously, they both looked up at the darkness at the top of the stairs.

“Please, tell me we can open the door from this side,” Liz said, almost begging.

Red stayed silent, the shadows cast by the lonely light bulb hanging from the ceiling hiding his face.

“For God’s sake, Red! You were supposed to get someone to fix that door weeks ago!” Liz burst out, punching him in the chest before heading back to the top of the stairs, perfectly sober now.

She pushed and pulled at the door, trying the handle a few times before turning back to look at the man still standing below her.

“Are you going to stay there?” she asked angrily.

“It’s no use, Lizzie. This room was built to be an anti-atomic bunker doubling as a panic room — the door won’t budge, and they can’t hear us upstairs,” Red said, shaking his head. “Come down, someone will find us soon enough,” he added, waiting for Liz to take his hand.

Reluctantly, she grabbed his hand and let him lead her to the room at the foot of the stairs. It was mess — old furniture covered with boxes, old metallic shelves along the wall stuffed with more boxes and toys, and at the back, Red’s wine cellar.

“If it’s a panic room there should be a way to open it from the inside,” Liz said, looking for the control panel that should be there somewhere.

“I disabled it. I didn’t need a panic room, but the president thought that as SECNAV I had to have one,” he replied, almost guiltily.

Liz groaned at this stupidity. She knew it was no use arguing. Red was… Well, Red was Red.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” she groaned. “You’re sure we can’t do something?” she asked, spotting the control panel behind a shelf.

She walked to the shelf, putting an old dusty Furby to the side, and looked into the control panel, poking carefully at some of the switches.

“Yes, I’m sure. I had the guys who put it in place turn it off and they’re going to change the lock on the door so it can open from both sides — they just… haven’t yet,” Red explained, moving some boxes from an old couch on the other side of the room. “Don’t worry, Jenny will realize we’re not around soon enough. And if she doesn’t, I’m sure Sammy will, and Kate will come to look for us,” he added, smiling at the now empty couch.

Liz watched him walk to the wine cellar and take a bottle out. He took a corkscrew from a peg on the wall and opened it. He crooked an eyebrow, raising the bottle, asking silently if she wanted some. She nodded, leaving the useless panel to sit on the couch. Red grimaced at the dust bursting from the fabric when he went to join her, bottle in hand.

“How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” Liz asked, after taking a swig of wine.

“No idea. Jenny will probably think we went to see if Sammy was all right and Mr. Kaplan will think we’re still at the party. It might be a while until someone notices we’re missing,” Red replied. His arm slid around Liz’s shoulders and he kissed the crown of her head tenderly.

She wrapped an arm around Red’s waist, her other hand still around the neck of the bottle. She took a mouthful of wine; closing her eyes, she let the liquid roll on her tongue, filled her nostrils with its fragrance and moaned deep in her throat. She had missed drinking wine so much. She felt Red move at her side and soon, his breath was brushing her face, and she could feel the heat of his lips hovering over hers.

She swallowed her mouthful of wine just before she felt Red’s tongue brush the corner of her lips, drinking a lonely drop of wine that had escaped her mouth. She sighed, opening her eyes slowly. Between taking care of Sammy and the preparations for Jen’s wedding, it had been so long since they found the time to have a moment for themselves.

He smiled tenderly, brushing his lips across hers in a feathery caress, his fingertip tracing her collarbone, exposed by the low neck of her dark red dress. The bottle slipped from her fingers, rolling to the side, leaving a red stain on the floor. She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him to her, crushing his lips to hers. She didn’t lose any time, her tongue slipping between his lips; she moaned when their tongues met and started a duel they knew by heart.

His hands moved to her back and he slowly pulled her zipper down, his fingers tracing a line of fire on Liz’s spine. They broke the kiss, panting, and Red’s lips went to trace her jaw, his tongue teasing her earlobe before kissing his way down her neck, nipping lightly at her pulse point. His hands left her back to push the straps of her dress down her shoulders, forcing her to release her hold on his neck.

The dress now around her waist, she gasped when his tongue snuck between her breasts, still prisoners of her bra. She ran her hands across his chest when she felt the bra loosen its grip on her, and started to work on the many buttons of his dress shirt. As soon as he felt her hands on him, he straightened, looking hungrily at her. She pulled at the knot of his tie, loosening it enough to slide the collar out and kissed the exposed skin of his chest.  She pulled the shirt from the waistband of his slacks and, pushing the shirt and vest open, she bent forward to kiss his belly, nipping wickedly just beneath his navel, smiling when she heard him take a sharp breath. She loved to drive him crazy.

“We don’t have all night,” Red breathed, the muscles in his belly tensing under her ministrations.

She looked up, a wicked smile on her lips and tore his belt open, sliding it from the loops in a swift movement, making the leather crack like a whip. She left the couch, bunching the skirt of her dress up; she slid her underwear down her legs before letting the dress hide her legs again, never taking her eyes off Red. She saw his hand move on his fully erect cock through his pants and couldn’t stop the moan that left her throat. She took a step forward and, standing between his spread legs, Liz crooked an eyebrow, her eyes on his crotch.

Smiling smugly, Red suddenly grabbed her hips and pulled, forcing her to straddle his thighs. They both fumbled a moment with her dress to push it out of the way before she could sit on his lap, her hot core grinding against his covered cock; he could feel how wet she was through his clothes. His hands slid from her hips to her ass, bunching her dress up, and squeezed.

“Nice ass.”

They both froze at the high-pitched metallic voice breaking the silence of the room.

“What the…”

Red’s hands still on Liz’s buttocks, he leaned to the side, his eyes going to the door up the stairs, but it was still closed. No one was there with them. He looked at Liz, his face mirroring her puzzled expression. When the room stayed silent, they both shrugged, Red’s fingers sneaking between her buttocks to tease her entrance from behind. The tip of his finger slipped into her wetness when she moved her hips, grinding against his hard cock to find some friction.

Her tantalizing breasts bounced with every movement of her hips and he couldn’t resist them any longer. Carefully, he closed his mouth around a nipple and brushed his tongue across the peak. Liz let out a moan, the double stimulation bringing her closer to the edge. Red growled around her soft skin when a sweet drop of liquid fell on his tongue. She had stopped breastfeeding Sammy a week ago, but now, with the stimulation of his mouth on her, her breasts were leaking milk. He sucked a little bit more forcefully, being careful of the soreness of her breasts, and felt his mouth flood with saliva at the taste of her.  

“Gross.”

The same voice rang into the room. Liz’s nipple slipped from Red’s mouth, a few drops of milk dripping down onto his chest, when he looked behind her once again.

“What was that?” Liz asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, scanning the room to find the source of the voice.

“So you heard it too?”

“Yes. Both times,” he replied. “I wonder…” he added, frowning, his eyes fixed on something behind Liz.

“What? What is it?” she asked, panic in her voice.

She pushed Red’s hand from between her legs and stood up, covering her chest with the front of her dress. She looked around the room before following Red’s stare to the shelf on the other side. The one with the control panel behind it.   

“Wait… Its eyes were closed,” she said. “The Furby. Its eyes were closed when I moved it,” she explained when Red stood to stand beside her, his eyes on the hellish ball of fur on the shelf.

“You mean…”

“Hello.” The Furby’s voice cut him off.

Liz burst in a fit of laugher when she saw the murderous expression on Red’s face. She watched him walk to the shelf and pick the toy up. Turning it in his hands, he poked at the underside of the beast trying to find a way to turn it off.

“Ooohh” the thing said, obviously not liking being turned upside down.

“Oh, shut up, you!” Red growled, finding the switch at last.

The Furby’s eyes closed and Red put it back on the shelf, turning back to Liz with a proud smile on his lips.

“Where were we again?” he said, closing the distance between them and taking her in his arms.

“I think we were about to take care of this,” she replied, running her finger up the length of his cock.

He shuddered at her touch, thrusting his hips into her hand. She withdrew it, too fast for his liking, to put it flat against his chest and push him backward until he fell down on the dusty couch. With a wicked grin, she unbuttoned his pants and slid down the fly, pulling at the material until he lifted his hips. She slid his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh. He hissed when the cold air of the basement hit his burning skin.

Holding the skirt of her dress, Liz moved to straddle his thighs, his hands on her hips helping her to keep her balance. Fumbling under the fabric, she finally closed her fingers around his cock and placed it at her entrance before sinking onto him, their joined moans echoing in the room.

“Fuck, Lizzie,” Red groaned when she started moving.

“Precisely,” she replied breathily.

She was sliding up and down his length, her wetness coating him in the most delicious way, her hands braced on his shoulders, her full breasts bouncing in front of his eyes, still sporadically leaking drops of milk onto his chest. He was dying to take them in his mouth, to drink the sweet nectar from her nipples, but she was enjoying herself so much that he didn’t dare to break the moment.

“Deeper.”

Red’s hands tensed on Liz’s hips at the sound. He looked to the damned beast on the shelf and saw its opened eyes. Jaw clenched, he tried to concentrate on Liz’s soft cries, meeting her thrust for thrust.

“Faster.”

This time he knew she had heard it. Her hips lost their rhythm until she stopped moving completely, keeping him deep inside her. Her misty eyes focused on Red’s before she turned her torso toward the Furby watching them. Red groaned at the change of angle, almost spilling there and then. He took a deep breath to calm himself, his hands keeping Liz still.

“I’m gonna kill that thing!” he growled, lifting Liz from his lap to sit her on the couch beside him.

They both whimpered when he slipped from her. Standing on wobbly legs and grabbing the pants still around his thighs so he wouldn’t trip on them, he crossed the room, his cock, glistening from Liz’s juices, jutting proudly before him.

“Nice.”

Liz couldn’t stop the laugh that left her throat. The Furby was right, it was a nice view. Red’s cock bobbing up and down with every step, his ass exposed when he turned around. She bit her lip hungrily at the picture in front of her.

Red grabbed the toy from the shelf and turned it upside down once more. The switch was still set to ‘off’. He looked back at Liz, wondering if he should tell her, but froze the moment he saw her. She was sprawled on the couch, her dress around her hips and a finger buried deep in her core, her thumb brushing her clit. His cock throbbed at the sight.

“Oohhhh.”

Tearing his eyes from the spectacle of his Lizzie touching herself, Red looked down at the Furby in his hand. The twitch at the side of his mouth turned into a rictus when the toy opened and closed its mouth as though it was laughing at him. Hatred burning in his veins, Red flipped the ball of fur in his hand and threw it headfirst against the wall beside the shelf. The head cracking open was one of the most satisfying sound he had ever heard.

“Good niiiiiiii…” the Furby groaned as it hit the floor in pieces, its eyes closing slowly.

The beast was dead. Turning around, Red saw that Liz was still touching herself, her eyes closed, her hips thrusting, fucking herself with three fingers. Taking his cock in hand, he felt the sticky wetness of Liz cold on his burning skin. His hand moving on his length, he walked back to the couch. His free hand took hold of Liz’s wrist, stopping her hand, and she whimpered when he pushed it to the side. Kneeling between her spread legs, he repositioned himself at her entrance and slammed into her.

She cried out as he buried himself to the hilt in her hot wetness, her legs folding around his waist.

“Red!” she cried, her nails digging into the skin of his back, her feet on his tailbone pulling him even deeper.

He kept thrusting, his cock sliding in and out of her in a frantic rhythm; he was close, but he had to make sure she would fall over the edge with him. As if hearing his thoughts, Liz’s hand slid between their sweaty bodies; her fingers found her clit and they were both lost. As her inner muscles clamped down on him, he stilled, spilling himself deep inside her, her fingers on the tight bundle of nerves prolonging her orgasm.

His arms gave out and he collapsed onto her, Liz’s arm wrapping around his neck while the other one was still stuck between them. They stayed still, trying to calm their breathing, Red still buried deep inside her.

“Fuck!” someone said into the silence of the room, and they heard the door slam closed.

The voice had come from the stairs — they both knew they should recognize it, but in their post-coital state, their brains were still useless. Raising his head, Red met Liz’s eyes and they simultaneously realized who had been there. Jennifer. Jennifer had walked on them. Again. Red let his head fall back on Liz’s shoulder and groaned.

The door at the top of the steps opened again and they both looked up. The tiny form in the doorframe was lit from behind and they could not make out who was there. They were still joined and Red didn’t dare move, not wanting to expose them any further.

“I hope you’ve been careful, because I’m not taking care of another child!” Mr. Kaplan’s voice rang sternly in the room before she turned around, leaving the door wedged open on her way out.

“Oops!” the voice of the supposedly dead Furby screeched into the stillness of the room.

[leclassycaniveau]

Smoke

@histoireeternelle here!  Anonymous prompted: Can someone write a dirty scene with Red/Liz/one of his cigars? Here you go Anon, I hope you’ll like it 

Liz had walked into Red’s office on a whim. He hadn’t forbidden her to enter that room, but after three days alone in the safe house — that looked more like Red’s country house than another borrowed property — the office was the only room she wasn’t already bored of. The house was nice, built entirely out of logs, furnished with dark wooden furniture, it would have been a cabin if it wasn’t for the size. The house was huge, lost in the middle of nowhere-Minnesota, centenarian trees in the front, hiding it from the dirt trail of a road that service it, and opening on a clear blue lake on the back. Liz would have loved to spend her days exploring the forest or diving into the crystal-clear water and bathing under the waterfall flowing into the lake, but of course, Red had chosen December to bring her there.

And he had left.

He had brought her there to keep her safe and, after only two days, he had left her on her own, saying he had things to take care of that couldn’t wait. And it was almost Christmas!

The office was similar to the rest of the house, the light wood panels of the walls contrasting with the dark desk she was now facing. Not a paper in sight, she observed. Red had been as thorough with this place as he always was. Liz trailed her fingers along the smooth surface of the desktop, pondering the possibility of sitting on the huge armchair behind the desk. She took a deep breath, trying to find Red’s scent in the atmosphere of the room — his scent had permeated the whole house — but then something else caught her attention.

On the other side of the room stood an immense fireplace. Two dark leather armchairs were sitting in front of the hearth; a small round mahogany table between them held a light wooden box, a bottle of Brandy, and two glasses. Liz took a step forward, her fingers leaving the desk, and worried her lower lip. This was Red’s place. She could see it in the pristine condition of the room when some others had been covered in dust. She could see it in the glasses and alcohol. This was his sanctuary and she felt like an intruder.

She had to leave.

But she couldn’t. As though her body wasn’t hers anymore, she saw herself walk to the fireplace and sit on the left armchair. The one the box was the closest to. No. Not a box. A humidor. This was where Red kept his cigars. Liz traced the complex design carved on the top with a fingertip before pushing slowly the lid open. The heavy scent of tobacco hit her nose and she closed her eyes, smiling when she realized that it was one of the fragrances that made Red’s scent unique.  

Opening her eyes, she looked down into the box and shook her head.

“Oh, Red,” she said under her breath.

She had never cared for tobacco, but she knew enough to recognize a Cuban cigar when she saw one. And the humidor was full of them. That box was worth thousands of dollars. Extending her hand, Liz took out a cigar and brought it to her nose; behind her closed eyelids, she saw the way Red’s tongue would slip between his parted lips, touching the cap for a second before he would close his lips around the cigar. She had been fascinated by the sensuality of that tongue flashing when she didn’t expect it, and revolted by the fire she had felt running through her body. Her father had died of lung cancer and she was aroused by watching a man smoke.

She was still lost in her thoughts when she felt a shift in the air, the small hairs at the nape of her neck standing on end. Of course he had to choose that moment to come back. Still holding the cigar in hand, she turned her torso toward the door, not moving from her seat and looked at him.

Shoulder leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed on his chest, she saw that he had discarded his jacket and tie and his vest was unbuttoned, exposing his white shirt, open at the collar. Taking in his frame, she let her eyes trace his broad shoulders, the open collar of his shirt showing salt-and-pepper chest hair, his pants hugging his body in all the right places, trailing down his legs to find his sock feet.  

Judging by the small smile on his lips and the light shining in his eyes, he hadn’t missed a moment of her ogling. Liz felt heat rise up her neck. Meeting his eyes had been a mistake; now that he had caught her stare, she couldn’t avert her eyes. She was frozen on the spot, the cigar still in her hand, the humidor still open on the table. Unable to move, she watched him take a step, then another, in her direction and her breath caught in her chest. The intensity of his stare was something she had never really seen in him. She had had glimpses of it when he had thought she wasn’t watching, but never like this.

She raised her head when he stood in front of her. His crotch was a breath away from her hand holding the cigar. She could feel the heat radiating from his body and saw his pupils dilate. Was he angry? Disappointed in her? She didn’t know. He inched forward and suddenly, she felt him against her hand. He wasn’t angry or disappointed. He was aroused. She could feel his cock already half-hard against the back of her hand.

From the corner of her eye, Liz saw his hand move and, slowly, he slid the cigar out of her grip, leaving her with two choices. And judging by his crooked eyebrow and the tilt of his head, Red was perfectly aware of that. Now that her hand was free, she could either lay it down on the armrest or flip it and cup him through his pants. He was holding his breath, she realized, seeing his chest still its perpetual movement and his heart beating furiously at the pulse point at the side of his neck.

They both let their breath out when the palm of her hand settled on the tense material of his pants. Eyes never leaving his face, she saw his jaw clench and heard the hitch in his breath when she closed her fingers around his cock. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. He was waiting for her to take the lead. He would accept her decision, no matter what, she realized. She moved her hand an inch upward, as an experiment, and he closed his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. With his eyes closed, Liz felt she could move again. Her eyes reluctantly leaving his face, she fixed them on his belt. After a second of hesitation, she uncurled her fingers and, with her other hand joining to help, she unbuckled his belt and popped the button of his pants open before sliding his fly down. His pants slid down his hips, pooling around his ankles, and Liz’s fingertip traced the outline of his erection through his black boxers.

She leaned forward, her lips touching the burning heat hidden under the fabric and his hips bucked involuntarily. Her smile half-hidden by the tails of his shirt hanging around her, she did it again, her lips lingering just a moment longer, and she heard him sigh. She caught the movement of Red’s hand in her peripheral vision and shivered when, instead of burying it in her hair as she thought he would, he used his fingertips to push her hair backward, baring her face to his view. She looked up at him and smiled shyly. He returned her smile in bewilderment.

Slowly, their eyes locked; she inched his boxers down, her mouth closing on the exposed skin. Out of the corner of her eye, Liz saw his hand fist around the cigar he was still holding, crushing it, pieces of tobacco leaves crumbling from his fingers. She took the head of his cock in her mouth, her lips closing around the ridge, and sucked. She heard the soft cry that left Red’s lips and smiled, her teeth grazing his heated skin. They weren’t touching, their only link, her lips on him, but she could feel how tensed he was. The air surrounding them crackling with electricity.

Pushing his boxers down his thighs, she let him slide deeper into her mouth, engulfing him in her wet heat as much as she could, her tongue flat on the underside of his shaft. He was panting now, his breath the only sound in the room. Giving up all pretence, Liz closed her fingers around the base of his cock, her other hand sneaking under his shirt, caressing his lower belly; she moaned, the sound muffled by his length, when Red’s hips jerked. She could feel him tremble under her touch, his muscles moving in rhythm with her mouth. He was close, she could feel it in the way he was holding himself, trying to stay still while her mouth worked him in earnest.

He groaned when she let his cock slip almost all the way out of her mouth, her lips once again around the head, her tongue teasing the hole she found there while her hand moved up and down along his length. And suddenly, she felt it. The first drops of cum hitting her tongue just before he climaxed in her mouth in long, hot spurts. He slipped from Liz’s mouth when he took a step back, bracing himself against the back of the other leather armchair. A small, smug smile on her lips, Liz leaned forward and kissed the tip of his softening cock, startling him.

---

Red tried to focus his half-hooded eyes on Liz, still not believing what just happened. He had known she would be angered by his disappearance, but his business had taken longer than he expected, and he had needed to stop in Minneapolis to find her a Christmas present. Then, halfway home, the snow had turned the roads impassable. He would have been stuck in his car if it hadn’t been for the old couple who found him on the side of the road and let him spend the night in their guest room.

He had been able to get back to his car in the late afternoon and, once home, had found the house quiet and still. Thinking she was in the library or her room, Red had gone to his room, showered, and changed into clean clothes before going to look for Lizzie. After visiting those two rooms and not finding any trace of her, he had called out, fearing Lizzie might have wanted to explore their surroundings and found herself cut from the house by the heavy snowfall the day before. He had been on his way to get warmer clothes when he had spotted the door of his office standing ajar. On tiptoe, he had closed the distance and pushed the door open silently, a soft smile spreading on his lips when he saw her. Leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, he watched her take a cigar from the humidor and bring it to her nose to smell it, her eyes closing when the smell of tobacco hit her.

From the moment she had turned around to look at him, his memories were blurred. The mingling sensations of heat and wetness; the soft moans she had made, muffled by his cock deep in her mouth.

She was beautiful. And she had just sucked him off. He still couldn’t quite believe it, but his pants still around his ankles and his boxers on his thighs were proof enough of what just happened. And she was still looking at him. His Lizzie was looking at him with eyes dark with desire. The sound of the crushed cigar hitting the floor when he opened his fingers felt like an electroshock. In a swift movement, he grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled them up, along with his boxers. He saw her flinch at his gesture and knew instantly what she was about to say. And he would hear none of it.

“I’m so…”

His lips crashing on Lizzie’s silenced her, his tongue invading her mouth when she gasped in surprise. He could taste himself on her tongue, arousal once again burning in his veins. She had sucked his cock until he came into her mouth. His lips pushing her to lean against the back of the armchair she was still sitting in, he snuck between the seat and the table to stand before her.  When the need of air forced them break the kiss, he fell to his knees, looking up, waiting for her consent to keep going. His hands on the seat, on either side of her thighs, not touching her, he could still feel her tremble.

When she finally nodded, Red’s hands slid up her thighs, caressing her through the fabric of her jeans. He kissed her knee tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers as he inched his fingers up, reaching for the button at the waistband of her pants and popping it open before slowly sliding the fly down, mirroring her previous actions. He leaned forward, finally breaking eye contact, and pressed a kiss to the soft black cotton of her underwear. His nose filled with the scent of her arousal, making him growl deep in his throat.  

His hands sneaking under her hoodie, Red brushed her sides before moving down the curve of her back to slide under her buttocks, urging her to lift her hips. He hooked his fingers on the waistband of Liz’s pants and pulled them down slowly, kissing her hip, then her thigh, his lips tracing a line of fire on her skin. He put the jeans down on the side, his hands sneaking between her closed knees to push them apart when she sat back on the armchair. Slowly, he made his way up along her leg, his nose nuzzling at her skin, feeling goosebumps spread on her skin.

Red nipped lightly at the tender skin her inner thigh, filling his nose with her scent when she wriggled under his ministrations. His hands closed on her hips and he pulled, her buttocks sliding on the leather, his body forcing her to open her legs even further. Red traced soothing circles on her hips with his thumbs to keep her in place when his tongue darted out of his mouth, licking at the darker spot on her underwear where her arousal had wet the fabric.

Her hand cradling the back of his head gave him her blessing to continue and, one hand leaving her hip, he pushed the crotch of her panties aside, baring her wet and swollen lower lips to his stare. He moaned, echoing the sound she made, when his tongue traced the heated skin, not yet breaching that last barrier.

Liz whimpered when his hot breath left her and his hand let the fabric of her panties slide back in place. He looked up at her, a small, reassuring smile on his lips, before turning his eyes to the humidor still open on the table beside them. She had seemed to love the scent of his cigars. Taking one out, he brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes closed. He could feel her eyes on him, almost see the frown of her eyebrows. Tension seeped from every pore of her skin, the scent of her arousal heavy in the atmosphere of the room.

Opening his eyes, he fixed them on hers, touching the cigar to his lips, his tongue brushing the cap to wet it slightly before once again pushing her underwear aside. He traced her lips with the head of the cigar, feeling her shudder at the sensation, his body between her legs preventing her from closing them up.  

“Shh, trust me,” he breathed, breaching the last barrier with the cigar.

She jerked when he brushed her clit in a feathery caress. Slowly, he rounded the tight bundle of nerves, never touching it directly, with the cigar. She was so wet. It took every ounce of self control in him not to throw the cigar away and fuck her here and now in that chair. But he had had his pleasure, and now it was time to reciprocate — they would have time for more later.

He pulled her even closer to the edge of the seat, sliding a shoulder under her leg, he took the cigar south, teasing her entrance while his mouth closed over her clit. He had to shut his eyes, feeling dizzy at the taste of her that flooded his mouth. He felt Liz’s nails dig into his scalp and heard the cry that left her throat when he flicked his tongue. She was trembling, her back arching with every touch of his tongue, her hand clasped the armrest so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“Red!” she cried out when the cigar inched forward.

He chuckled at her response, knowing that the vibrations of his voice on her clit would make her wild. And he wasn’t mistaken. Liz’s hips jerked against his mouth and he slid the cigar deeper into her body. He knew that, with the wetness of her core, the cigar wouldn’t last, so he slid his index finger in along with the smoke.

Fucking her with cigar and finger, his tongue moved frantically on her clit.

The heel of her foot slipped against the polished hardwood floor when she tried to find some purchase under the assault of his tongue, the muscles of the leg on his shoulder tensing. She was close, he could hear it in her breath, feel it in the way her body responded. He added his teeth to her clit and she tensed. Her cries music to his ears, he felt her inner muscles grip his finger and the cigar. He kept moving until her hand released its grip on his head; throwing the cigar away, his tongue lapped at her, reveling in the taste of her climax.

With a last kiss on her swollen sex, he let her underwear slide back in place and sat on his haunches, her leg slipping to the floor. Her juices glistening on his chin, he waited until her eyes focused back on him before bringing his finger to his mouth and sucking it clean.

She whimpered deep in her throat and, with a strength he didn’t think she still possessed, she pushed herself out of the armchair and, kneeling in front of him, crushed her lips to his. His arms closed round her, plastering her body to him; with his fingers buried in her hair, he kissed her back.

Everything had changed; they’d have to adjust and learn how to be together. But they had time. They had time for everything now.