ficrepost: "Safer Sex" Max/Logan
Jan. 1st, 2008 02:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wisdomeagleTitle: "Safer Sex"
Fandom: Dark Angel
Pairing: Max/Logan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/timeline: Post-series.
Disclaimer: Created by James Cameron. Ayup.
Notes: A stocking stuffer for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladybug218 in Yuletide 2007.
Summary: No touching, no sex, and no happiness ever, but there's a workaround. Max and Logan share a bit of joy, once in a lifetime.
Wordcount: 1366
Safer Sex
"Okay, so... sex."
Logan rolls his eyes because this is safer than his first impulse, which involves taking a few cautious steps toward Max then covering her face and lips and neck in bruising kisses (that will heal by morning) before her superior strength and alpha instincts kick in and she pins him against the wall with the kiss that her pouting, painted lips are promising. He rolls his eyes deliberately, ostentatiously, hoping to provoke her. Obviously best-case would be she turns right around and leaves, rounds up some of the kidz to play mutant reindeer games (or maybe just hunt for food, which is on the scarce side), but second best, she kisses him and they have at least thirty seconds of bliss before the virus kicks in and Logan's deader than the US economy. He'd be okay with that, at this moment.
"Go away, Max."
"No, seriously. Sex should be our number one priority. Because when the kidz start reproducing, then we'll have a baby army."
"Which was the Manitcorp idea, yes?"
"Right. Beside the point. They'd be our army now, and an army of mutants created in love can't be stopped by just any old nuke."
"True..." He had been thinking of sex of the non-reproductive kind but this would be okay too -- although what he'd add to the genetic equation he's unclear on, a mini-Max is -- oh, shit. When you start thinking babies and marriage, the time for fucking is long past. Really, he'll take death over another minute of waiting. Max is rolling her eyes now, too, and he looks down to see if -- yes. The ability to turn him on by wearing biker gear and smiling crooked is probably not a superpower, but it's one of Logan's favorite things about Max. Also least favorite, especially now that the resolution of sexual tension has become less a hazy, one-day dream and more an impossible nightmare.
"You know we can...," she says, dropping the "t" as her eyes meet his. "We can't, I mean. Absolutely off-limits. Unforgivable. There can be no sex until after the holidays."
He goes weak-kneed (damn that masterful voice, and damn her clenched fists, leatherclad, that belong around his cock, gripping just that tightly, then loosening, stroking, pulling him almost to orgasm before letting go and replacing hand with --)
"Right. So. Have I mentioned that I'd love a box of self-control for Christmas?"
Max grins. "I'll see what I can acquire. Meantime, I'd better book or you're going to be one dead boyfriend for Christmas."
"Boyfri--"
"Psych."
"Shut it."
"Consider it shut."
"Can we please just --"
"Logan! Virus!" His hand has slipped dangerously close to Max's waist, it's true, but just in a friendly, squeezing hug way, not in a way that precedes unbuttoning her pants and sliding them over her ass, taking an extra second to feel her muscles clench, then release as she gets into it, maybe bucks forward into his other hand that's working the zipper and trying to wrestle past her impractical underwear...
"Right. Virus." Deep breath, not thinking about Max, not looking at Max, not in love with Max and not going to have sex with Max. Ever.
"Maybe we could --"
"Could what?"
"Be careful?"
She'd slam him up against the wall, jarring his whole body, make every bone ache with her deadly massage until she finally, tenderly, touched his hard-on, took him in one long gulp and jerked him hard into her mouth; his head would loll against the wall and everything in him would scream for deeper touch; he'd want to penetrate her with fingers and tongue and learn every cell, every molecule, before she finally fucked him, wrapped around his dick with her wet pussy, exhibiting fabulous muscle control as she lowered herself, slowly, onto him...
"I forgot how to be safe the minute I set eyes on you."
"Man, you want to get laid so bad."
"It's true."
"Which part?"
"Both parts. You're the most dangerous person I know, and I want to have sex with you so much that I can't really think about anything else these days."
"We've got to do something about this, Logan. I think my brain is leaking out through my cunt."
"That is... kind of a gross image, except for the part where it involves your cunt and is therefore the hottest thing I've thought about for... minutes."
"What are you thinking?" It shouldn't be humanly possible for a woman's voice to become so low and growly with want, but Logan says a prayer of thanks that it is, because the question reawakens his dick (temporarily chastised by thoughts of impending death).
"Sex," he gasps. "With you. Many different kinds, some of them not really physically possible, and sadly none of them at all possible given the givens."
"Right. But there are some ways --"
"Max. Please."
"Safe sex, right? Preventing STDs and back alley abortions for the past century or two?"
"I don't think the general public noticed a decline in those things."
"Yeah, but that was before the invention of the videophone."
"Max, phone sex is..."
"But we don't need a telephone, because you're right here, and I'm right here, and I don't know about you -- okay, actually I do, because, um, Logan junior --"
"Please. It's my cock, and it's been so wayward and naughty of late that I'm hesitant to name it at all."
"Right. Anyhow, you have a hard-on, I'm fucking leaking come..."
"This is silly."
"Sillier is not seeing each other naked when we'd be doin' it bunny-style if it weren't for givens. Come on. I'll go first."
Shit. He knows this particular strip tease has probably been most recently used to distract an embezzler while Max took him for all he had, but that doesn't matter when her jacket unzips slowly to reveal the bright red, form-fitting shirt that does nothing to disguise her breasts, when she rips the shirt like it's tissue paper to reveal bare breasts, when she circles her nipples with spit-slicked fingers and puckers her lips like she would really like to be giving a blow job right now. And then her hand reaches the zipper of her pants, and Logan discovers he's been following her motions on his own body and has started to unzip his fly. A hand around his cock, and Max is miming stroking, is working her tongue like crazy and is fingering the edges of her panties. If he keeps his eyes on her, watches hands and lips, he's not aware he's stroking himself, not aware that the only skin he can touch is his. He parts his lips like a kiss, and Max answers the gesture; his tongue goes out and he feels ridiculous as he licks his own lips and thinks about Max's, wet and shining and, free from come-soaked panties, the most beautiful sight he's seen ever. Her fingers slide inside, and his own jerk more frantically as he thinks about that cunt, those fingers, being inside and tightness, Max's hips jerking up and her hand cupping her breast, holding it to Logan like an offering of flesh, the ecstatic, unsmiling face that works itself into a grimace as she hits a tender spot, resolves into bliss again as she watches Logan's hands gripping his cock, watching her watching him watching her watching him come, and come -- she's across the room in a flash, faster than is possible (oh, super-speed, and super-strength, and the superpowered sex drive of a literal sex kitten), catching his come in her mouth, on her face, lick, swallow, wipe her face clean -- he wants the slickness of her arousal to wet his thigh, wants to know the taste of her cunt on his tongue and deep in his throat, wants to feel her clit stiffen slightly as she comes from the touch of his fingers and his cock, but he's watched her climax, and that's something. He's come in Max's presence, had an orgasm that was one hundred percent Max-inspired, and that is enough. Tonight (we wish you a merry Christmas and may next year be luckier) that is enough.
Fandom: Dark Angel
Pairing: Max/Logan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/timeline: Post-series.
Disclaimer: Created by James Cameron. Ayup.
Notes: A stocking stuffer for
ladybug218 in Yuletide 2007.Summary: No touching, no sex, and no happiness ever, but there's a workaround. Max and Logan share a bit of joy, once in a lifetime.
Wordcount: 1366
Safer Sex
"Okay, so... sex."
Logan rolls his eyes because this is safer than his first impulse, which involves taking a few cautious steps toward Max then covering her face and lips and neck in bruising kisses (that will heal by morning) before her superior strength and alpha instincts kick in and she pins him against the wall with the kiss that her pouting, painted lips are promising. He rolls his eyes deliberately, ostentatiously, hoping to provoke her. Obviously best-case would be she turns right around and leaves, rounds up some of the kidz to play mutant reindeer games (or maybe just hunt for food, which is on the scarce side), but second best, she kisses him and they have at least thirty seconds of bliss before the virus kicks in and Logan's deader than the US economy. He'd be okay with that, at this moment.
"Go away, Max."
"No, seriously. Sex should be our number one priority. Because when the kidz start reproducing, then we'll have a baby army."
"Which was the Manitcorp idea, yes?"
"Right. Beside the point. They'd be our army now, and an army of mutants created in love can't be stopped by just any old nuke."
"True..." He had been thinking of sex of the non-reproductive kind but this would be okay too -- although what he'd add to the genetic equation he's unclear on, a mini-Max is -- oh, shit. When you start thinking babies and marriage, the time for fucking is long past. Really, he'll take death over another minute of waiting. Max is rolling her eyes now, too, and he looks down to see if -- yes. The ability to turn him on by wearing biker gear and smiling crooked is probably not a superpower, but it's one of Logan's favorite things about Max. Also least favorite, especially now that the resolution of sexual tension has become less a hazy, one-day dream and more an impossible nightmare.
"You know we can...," she says, dropping the "t" as her eyes meet his. "We can't, I mean. Absolutely off-limits. Unforgivable. There can be no sex until after the holidays."
He goes weak-kneed (damn that masterful voice, and damn her clenched fists, leatherclad, that belong around his cock, gripping just that tightly, then loosening, stroking, pulling him almost to orgasm before letting go and replacing hand with --)
"Right. So. Have I mentioned that I'd love a box of self-control for Christmas?"
Max grins. "I'll see what I can acquire. Meantime, I'd better book or you're going to be one dead boyfriend for Christmas."
"Boyfri--"
"Psych."
"Shut it."
"Consider it shut."
"Can we please just --"
"Logan! Virus!" His hand has slipped dangerously close to Max's waist, it's true, but just in a friendly, squeezing hug way, not in a way that precedes unbuttoning her pants and sliding them over her ass, taking an extra second to feel her muscles clench, then release as she gets into it, maybe bucks forward into his other hand that's working the zipper and trying to wrestle past her impractical underwear...
"Right. Virus." Deep breath, not thinking about Max, not looking at Max, not in love with Max and not going to have sex with Max. Ever.
"Maybe we could --"
"Could what?"
"Be careful?"
She'd slam him up against the wall, jarring his whole body, make every bone ache with her deadly massage until she finally, tenderly, touched his hard-on, took him in one long gulp and jerked him hard into her mouth; his head would loll against the wall and everything in him would scream for deeper touch; he'd want to penetrate her with fingers and tongue and learn every cell, every molecule, before she finally fucked him, wrapped around his dick with her wet pussy, exhibiting fabulous muscle control as she lowered herself, slowly, onto him...
"I forgot how to be safe the minute I set eyes on you."
"Man, you want to get laid so bad."
"It's true."
"Which part?"
"Both parts. You're the most dangerous person I know, and I want to have sex with you so much that I can't really think about anything else these days."
"We've got to do something about this, Logan. I think my brain is leaking out through my cunt."
"That is... kind of a gross image, except for the part where it involves your cunt and is therefore the hottest thing I've thought about for... minutes."
"What are you thinking?" It shouldn't be humanly possible for a woman's voice to become so low and growly with want, but Logan says a prayer of thanks that it is, because the question reawakens his dick (temporarily chastised by thoughts of impending death).
"Sex," he gasps. "With you. Many different kinds, some of them not really physically possible, and sadly none of them at all possible given the givens."
"Right. But there are some ways --"
"Max. Please."
"Safe sex, right? Preventing STDs and back alley abortions for the past century or two?"
"I don't think the general public noticed a decline in those things."
"Yeah, but that was before the invention of the videophone."
"Max, phone sex is..."
"But we don't need a telephone, because you're right here, and I'm right here, and I don't know about you -- okay, actually I do, because, um, Logan junior --"
"Please. It's my cock, and it's been so wayward and naughty of late that I'm hesitant to name it at all."
"Right. Anyhow, you have a hard-on, I'm fucking leaking come..."
"This is silly."
"Sillier is not seeing each other naked when we'd be doin' it bunny-style if it weren't for givens. Come on. I'll go first."
Shit. He knows this particular strip tease has probably been most recently used to distract an embezzler while Max took him for all he had, but that doesn't matter when her jacket unzips slowly to reveal the bright red, form-fitting shirt that does nothing to disguise her breasts, when she rips the shirt like it's tissue paper to reveal bare breasts, when she circles her nipples with spit-slicked fingers and puckers her lips like she would really like to be giving a blow job right now. And then her hand reaches the zipper of her pants, and Logan discovers he's been following her motions on his own body and has started to unzip his fly. A hand around his cock, and Max is miming stroking, is working her tongue like crazy and is fingering the edges of her panties. If he keeps his eyes on her, watches hands and lips, he's not aware he's stroking himself, not aware that the only skin he can touch is his. He parts his lips like a kiss, and Max answers the gesture; his tongue goes out and he feels ridiculous as he licks his own lips and thinks about Max's, wet and shining and, free from come-soaked panties, the most beautiful sight he's seen ever. Her fingers slide inside, and his own jerk more frantically as he thinks about that cunt, those fingers, being inside and tightness, Max's hips jerking up and her hand cupping her breast, holding it to Logan like an offering of flesh, the ecstatic, unsmiling face that works itself into a grimace as she hits a tender spot, resolves into bliss again as she watches Logan's hands gripping his cock, watching her watching him watching her watching him come, and come -- she's across the room in a flash, faster than is possible (oh, super-speed, and super-strength, and the superpowered sex drive of a literal sex kitten), catching his come in her mouth, on her face, lick, swallow, wipe her face clean -- he wants the slickness of her arousal to wet his thigh, wants to know the taste of her cunt on his tongue and deep in his throat, wants to feel her clit stiffen slightly as she comes from the touch of his fingers and his cock, but he's watched her climax, and that's something. He's come in Max's presence, had an orgasm that was one hundred percent Max-inspired, and that is enough. Tonight (we wish you a merry Christmas and may next year be luckier) that is enough.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-01 08:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-01 09:16 pm (UTC)