Work Text:
Her hands are on his shoulders, palms sliding across his skin, warm and soft and deliciously cruel as they rub the bruise at the base of his neck. Her thumb presses against the purple-pink welt, making him wince and hiss in pain—he arches into the punishing touch, silently begging for more.
“You like that, don’t you?” she whispers, and for a moment she is unbearably gentle, leaning in to kiss his cheek, his nose, his forehead.
“Yes,” he whispers back.
She is beautiful, straddling him on the bed, pinning his aching body to the mattress. He wants her to hurt him, wants to feel it, all of it—her name etched into his skin. She knows this. She’s always known him best.
The room is the same as ever, but somehow it has also changed. Neon lights flicker over her face. A shadow, blue and round like a teardrop, falls upon her cheek. He reaches up, touches it, sighs. Her hands are rough again, fingers wrapping lightly around his throat. She sits back, and he feels her against him, and he is so hard, fuck, he could come just from this, just from her hands and her clothed body and those piercing eyes, Mace, Mace I love your eyes, I love the way they see…
“What do you want, Lenny?”
There is a sound coming from outside, like glass breaking, like water over rocks, and he is suddenly reminded of the world beyond the walls of his room. The sun will soon rise on a new millennium.
“I want…” He breathes in deeply and he thinks; I want to forget. He wants to forget Faith, he wants to forget the crowd, the year, the wire, he wants to forget the entire fucking world. He wants Mace and nothing else.
“Lenny,” she sighs, moving her hips in small circles, and he can feel her heat even through the layers of clothing. It sets his blood on fire. He groans in frustration, lifting his head off the pillow to look at her. She smiles knowingly, brushes his hair out of his eyes and claims his mouth. The kiss is slow, sweet, but then she tilts her head to the side, grabs him by the jaw and sinks her teeth into his bottom lip. He gasps, one hand coming up to squeeze her thigh.
“Tell me,” she breathes against his mouth.
He feels her reaching between them to pull her dress up, then her hand is on him, moving under his pants and boxers, teasing, and he is half-delirious with lust. He wants the pain now more than ever, needs it—she pulls him out, the air is cold on his bare skin—he needs her to break him so he can finally forget, and—she gives him a few firm strokes, fuck, her hands feel so good—and there’s that familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach, the self-loathing, the disgust—she lines him up, jesus fucking christ he’s pressing into her…
“Mace!” he cries out, and her eyes are wide and gleaming, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
She moans as she sinks down onto him, taking him in slowly, her hair falling across her shoulder and brushing his cheek. She kisses him again, long and hard, all tongue and teeth.
“Tell me what you want,” she says, her voice rough with pleasure.
Lenny moves his fingers over her thighs, between them, presses gently—it makes her moan again—and he is desperate for it now, can’t stand another minute of this. He puts his hand over hers, the one still at the base of his throat. “Take my breath away,” he tells her.
There it is; that wild gleam in her eyes. “Fuck, Lenny.”
He’s grateful for the eagerness he reads in her face. There is a moment of stillness. The room is filled with their heavy breathing. In the darkness he belongs to her, and she to him, and the world keeps burning around them. She sets a pace, but the steady rhythm of her desire quickly dissolves into feverish need. She throws her head back in pleasure, and he watches her breasts bounce with every shove. Her hands find his neck, fingers digging into the soft skin there as she rides him with unrestrained ardor, overwhelming him.
“Harder,” he rasps, eyebrows curving upwards pleadingly.
Mace’s grasp tightens on Lenny’s throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut, giving her his pain; giving her everything. She’s pulsing around him, hot and wet, so fucking deep. The muscles in her arms ripple, her knuckles twitching once before she closes her fingers around his throat and her palm presses down on his Adam's apple. The air comes like a choked whistle out of his parted lips.
On the edge, pain and pleasure, sensations too closely interlaced, impossible to untangle. Her sighs turn into throaty moans as she moves on top of him, and he loves the sounds she’s making, he loves her, he wants to lose himself in her, it’s too much, too close, he’s barely holding back, shaking with the effort, fuck.
He goes lightheaded, not enough air, he’s so close and he can’t breathe, can’t hold back, she’s like lightning, she’s electricity, her fingers squeezing the life out of him, he needs more, more more more Mace please—
Steadying herself with one hand on his hip, she stops. He breathes again; long, desperate gulps of air that burn their way to his lungs.
“I can’t do this, Lenny,” she pants.
He looks at her, fighting for breath. He wants to reach up and smooth out the crease between her brows, wipe away the frown from those delicate features. “What?” he manages.
“Not like this.” She shakes her head. “Not now.”
“Mace, you don’t have to—”
“Shhh.” She leans in, moving again, slow and deep. A soothing kiss, her hand sliding along his arm until she can slip her fingers between his. He stares at her with unconcealed awe, holding her body close to his with one arm flung across her back, and she keeps moving, doesn’t stop, builds up speed but with such unwavering gentleness…
He shudders, overwhelmed in an entirely different way. He wonders at the beauty of this, the simple ebb and flow, up and down, in and out, her lips against his lips. How she meets his self-destructive bullshit with this tenderness, this endless patience, and fuck it feels amazing, and she’s crying out his name, Lenny, Lenny, Lenny!
Her orgasm is long, shuddering, violent; she trembles all the way through it. He watches every single moment of it. Her movements don’t slow down, not even when she leans in and presses their foreheads together. Harder, faster, and he loses himself to the feeling, whimpering as he comes hard. He thrusts up, spends himself inside her. A long drawn out moan—her name, like a prayer, Mace, Mace, Mace!
She holds him through it.
When it’s over she smiles at him, and he smiles back, tired and content.
Morning finds them asleep in each other’s arms. Her head rests against his heartbeat. The world has finally stopped burning.