Where the Shore Meets the Sea
Sarah Michelle Gellar/Nathan Fillion
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Sometimes he can be such a jackass. He's parading around the room now, laughter following in his wake. The last couple are still coughing into their napkins, faces high with color and amusement.
It's that stupid joke about the elephant and the mousetrap. Or whatever.
And Nathan's been wincing in her direction for the last fifteen minutes. Because she's ready to go and he knows it. Just as she knows better than to take her eyes off him when the party gets rolling.
Last time she found him passed out with Alan. In a hammock of all places. A hammock!
He can feel the hot anger rolling off of her from across the room. It's silent and molten and there's no escaping it at this point. Too late to evacuate, no hope for salvation.
Or is there?
He meets Sarah's eyes, tries his best winning smile. But, oh, the glower he gets in return!
The situation may be more dire than he originally thought and times like this call for desperate measures.
He tries the puppy dog eyes next.
She falters. Is the lava cooling? Is he forgiven?
He starts making his way over to her, not once looking away.
As he gets closer, Sarah feels her resolve melt away. How does he do it? How can one stupid look from him make her forget how (justifiedly!) angry she was moments before?
Well, maybe not forget. But still.
And he knows it. He knows that she can be disarmed, how to sheathe her talons and remove the bite from her bark.
He knows where to put his hands on her body, how to lean close for whispered words. He knows exactly what to say.
"Let's go for a walk, sweetheart. I want to show you something. Then we can leave."
Nathan grabs a blanket from the back of a sofa as they make their way to the double doors overlooking the ocean. He wraps it around her and steers her across the deck, down the stairs and onto the sandy beach.
It's not really that cold, but she's glad for his care, satisfied now that she has his attention.
Sarah doesn't feel the slide of the blanket as it slips slowly down her shoulders. She's far too busy cataloguing the sting of whiskey and burn of stubble, the warm press of his lips and tongue. The heat of him.
"What," she murmurs between kisses, "were you going to show me?"
They are hidden beneath the deck, the noise from the party now drowned out by sea birds and waves.
Nathan lifts her easily onto a concrete barrier. It evens out their heights a bit and gives him better access as he begins exploring the soft skin of her neck and shoulder.
He pulls one strap of her dress down, exposing the soft swell of her bare breast. She gasps as he uses his teeth to scrape and bite at her hardened nipple, moans when he begins to suck, his other hand on a voyage up the inside of her thigh.
Nathan brushes back a lock of hair from her ear and whispers, "I wanted to show you the ocean."
His hand has reached the silk of her underwear now and as he strokes firmly between her legs he bites down on her earlobe.
"I've seen it before," Sarah says with a half-hearted protest as he lifts her again, this time just long enough to pull her panties off. They disappear into his pocket.
"I want you here, beside the raging sea. You are the moon that governs the tides within me, but my need for you cannot be swept away."
Sarah giggles. "God, Nathan. You're a lousy poet."
"Hey!" he exclaims in mock outrage. He starts to pull away, but she grabs him quick between her legs. She brings their faces close, their lips just barely touching.
"Just be a good boy and fuck me." She licks at his mouth and starts to undo his pants.
"Well, since you asked so nicely." He struggles for a minute, trying to decide what is more important: getting undressed or finding the blanket.
The blanket wins for about five seconds and then she's lying flat and breathless as he kicks his shoes off.
Sarah's always been a fan of fast and dirty sex: the way the blood rushes in her ears, how her heart beats so fast and hard, the flash of pain when he enters her with little or no preparation. It heightens the experience and makes her come harder than anything else.
And Nathan has learned this well, he gave up trying to make sweet passionate love to her ages ago. Her passion is a bright thing that does not require stoking or care. Besides, a little bruising is a nice reminder. As long as no one else can see it.
Sarah squirms, the sand beneath the blanket shifting as Nathan pounds into her. There isn't enough give and she has to work harder to snap her hips up to meet him.
She can't stop moaning and she hopes that no one has stepped out onto the deck above them. If they were caught...
In any case, she doesn't have time to worry, because Nathan has found the perfect angle and as he thrusts into her again and again she comes hard, nails scraping down his back, making him cry out as well, all control gone as she spasms around him.
As much as Sarah enjoys a good hard fuck, she enjoys the afterglow more. She tickles her fingers up and down Nathan's chest and sighs.
It's still warm out, late afternoon, though a breeze is coming off the ocean now. The blanket is half-wrapped around them, but her feet are a little cold, so she tucks them under Nathan's legs.
He gasps in shock. "Minx," he mutters.
"Mmmhmm." She yawns and pulls his arm around her.
"Do you want to go back inside?" His stomach growls and she laughs.
"Not yet." She wants him to herself for a little longer.