stock: typewriter

Smutlet: Stolen Moments

Title: Stolen Moments
Author: avamclean
Rating: FR21 
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and no profit is being made from the use of them.
Prompt: 17 Costumes
Fandom: Btvs/Smallville
Pairing: Buffy/Oliver
Synopsis: A snippet of time in the lives of two heroes. (Written for the smutlets and complete PWP)

Stolen Moments:
Teeth scrapped the taunt flesh between his hipbones, lips swept down to trace over the fading mark as honey colored hair fell forward to tickle his thighs. Her jaw bumped his steadily rising erection as Buffy turned, blew a damp breath across the coarse hair creating a trail down his pelvis. Oliver’s hips jerked with the sensation and her lips spread wide in response.
Hands eased up the inside of his thighs, fingers combing through the springy hair as Buffy twisted her head. She pushed his legs wider apart as she settled herself more comfortably between them and flattened her tongue against the underside of a billionaire’s cock. The muscles of his abdomen bunched, making their definition more pronounced as his breath hitched.
Head shifting against the mattress, eyes closed, jaw tensing as her lips sealed around the tip and her cheeks concaved as Buffy created a vacuum with her mouth. One hand stopped its steady kneading of his inner thigh and gripped the base, giving an expert twist as her head lowered, taking more of him between her lips.
Oliver pushed himself upward, eyes narrowing on the sight of her bobbing head. A smirk pulled his lips crooked as he enjoyed the sight of her pink mouth sliding down his shaft and his palms itched with the urge to run his fingers through the thick hair curtaining her actions. Buffy liked it rough but she didn’t like to be gagged and he’d more than likely do just that if he was in control.
She dipped her face closer to his pubic bone and her throat constricted, pulling a groan from his chest and making his higher thought processes stall. “Christ.”
She laughed; the vibration rode down his erection and straight into the steady warmth building at the base of his spine. His hips jerked and she pulled back, her mouth making a sweet pop as she released the tip. His stomach tightened as he watched her absently lick her lips and he sat up. Twisted his body onto his knees and grasped her shoulders, pulled her forward and swallowed the surprised yelp as he claimed her mouth.
Her arms rose, fingers digging into the slant of his hips as she jerked him forward. Felt his slick cock slide against her stomach as she twisted her tongue around his, trying to dominate the kiss and Oliver pulled back. Smirked down at her confused face and released one shoulder to grab a fistful of hair and jerked her head back. A low sound escaped her as his lips descended on her throat and traced their way down, across the hint of collarbone and she let him push her down, take control—this time.
His mouth, which she had just nicknamed sin, explored her body. Leaving a wet trail down her chest and a fading bite mark on the inside her left breast. Her hips rocked against the twelve-hundred thread count sheets as his lips and teeth and tongue found her bellybutton and his fingers found the apex of her thighs. She lifted her head watched as his upper body contorted—thank the gods for his daily yoga sessions—so that his teeth sank into the curve of her hip as his fingers sank into her core, pulling forth a low moan that sounded suspiciously like his name from her throat.
He bit harder, marking her tanned flesh and this time she did cry out his name, her voice a throaty whine. “Oliver!”
His lips quirked against her skin and he pressed his thumb into her clit. Her hips thrust up fast enough, hard enough to nearly dislodge him and his chuckle was followed by a growl of warning. The two fingers he had inside of her twisted, rolling around in a circle before lightly brushing the spongy spot just inside her opening and then they began the dance all over again.
“Fuck Ollie.” Her swearing had his teeth sinking deeper, until a bit of flesh rolled up into his mouth and he flicked it with his tongue.
She pulsed around his fingers and he bit a little harder when he thought of those tight muscles clenching around his cock. He released her hip from his mouth and smirked at the quickly rising hickey and the prefect imprint of his teeth. He blew lightly over the damp skin and brushed her g-spot teasingly before drawing his fingers out and pulling away.
Her eyes opened, hooded, confused and she reached for him as he rolled to nightstand and opened the top drawer to shake condom free from the box. He felt her teeth scrap his shoulder, hands tracing his ribs and over the indent beneath his hips. One hand snaked forward, cupped the tip of his erection and drew a thumb through the pre-cum. His breath hissed out as her hand tightened into a fist and drew down, leaving a sticky trail over the top of his dick and he thrust unconsciously into her grip.
She nipped his skin and then swept her lips across the fading mark in a soft contrast to the sting. He swallowed, stood, breaking her hold and turned, winked at her pout and tore the condom open with his teeth. Buffy stroked his thighs, watched him roll the condom over his erection and dug her nails into his skin, pulling down and leaving behind faint lines to match her hickey.
Oliver smirked, grasping her shoulders and pulling to her feet. He bent down to capture her lips, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. Gave chase to hers and abruptly pulled back, spun Buffy and bent her over the bed. Anticipation built in her stomach as she felt him nudge the back of her thighs and she climb back onto the bed, giving her hips an extra sway.
The smack was unexpected and she gasped, turning to look back at him as he grasped her hip with one hand and the left the other free to guide himself inside of her. She saw his eyes fall close when his hips met her. He stilled, she clenched and Oliver’s eyes opened. The brown darkening to nearly black as she pushed her body backwards and shifted her hips into a figure eight.
His hand stuck her ass again and she pulsed. Clenching around him—he always overlooked that she was more than human and in that moment she reminded him. “Forgot how strong you are.”
She stilled, neck arching to study his face, fear spiking through her. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” He grunted, it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “God no,” and to prove the point he pulled out, hands held her still, steady and pushed his way back in.
A strangled noise fell from her lips as the position made it possible for his shaft to create friction across her g-spot and she gasped, withering as he began a steady pace. Her stomach clenched, hands fisting in those sheets that cost more than some people’s rent as he continued a slow torturous build up. The slap of their hips, wet skin against wet skin as he rolled his body forward, into her and she followed his lead.
Their movement pulled unintelligible noises past Buffy’s lips and her breathing became faster, a sharp panting as heat washed over her senses. She dipped closer to the that glittering edge until little bursts of light danced around her vision and she bit her lip, holding back her scream as she climax and her body’s grip on him tightened so that she felt every inch of Oliver as he pulled out and then struggled against the pulsing of her body to work his way back in.
Fabric ripped beneath her nails and her back arched, the grip on her hips tightened and she felt Oliver loose his rhythm. His thrusts becoming erratic and she shuddered as her orgasm faded but the constant back and forth pressure on the bundle of nerves helped her hold onto the pleasure, prolong it. A tingle remained, her body slowly calming as the grip on her hips crossed the line into painful and Oliver grunted. His hips thrusting forward and he held her to him as he spilled his seed into the condom, her name a muttered groan.
He kneaded her lower back a moment before he pulled out and she slumped forward onto her forearms, inner thighs quaking as she fell to her side. She heard the snap of the condom as he tied it off and threw it into the trash, her lips quirked as the bed dipped and he climbed onto it.
With gentle coaxing and after a whine of laziness he pulled her to the top of the bed and the pillows. She curled onto her side and smiled into the feather softness as he placed a kiss on her exposed shoulder. She blinked, sleepily and rolled onto her back, looked up at his smiling face and yawned.
He chuckled and brushed his lips over tip of her nose, “Sleep.”
She blinked, “Sweet dreams.”
He lay down and pulled her into his side, she curled onto his chest and he reached across to draw lazy circles over her slightly damp and warm back. She hummed with the contact and added a hand onto his chest, returning the favor.
Buffy lifted her head, whispered softly. “By the way I like your costume.”
He looked down at her and arched a brow. “Really?”
She nodded, letting her head drop back to his chest. “Think we can get me one?”
“You don’t wear a costume.”
She pulled him tighter against her. “No, but don’t you think I’d make a super sexy Friar Tuck?”
She snickered as he groaned and shifted her closer. “Goodnight Buffy.”
The End.
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