Pairing: Miranda Otto / Karl Urban - LOTR RPS
Date: July 23, 2003
Feedback: yes please! also constructive criticism of any kind.
Disclaimer: not true, I made it up
Archive: yes, go ahead, please let me know
Notes: Finally finished for AndreaLyn's club fic challenge. Fervent thanks to Dee who inspired me, betaed, and held my hand when I was writing explicit sex for the first time. I'm deeply indebted to to Pete G., Hanarobi and Airgiodslv for fabulous betas; and for forcing me to use semicolons. And to Shaenie for (im)moral support.
In the sultry February night, the cast and crew have taken over the club, and everyone is dancing. Sex is in the music, in the sweat on the bodies, and in the air. Miranda longs for a touch, a caress, even in this heat. She wishes she'd worn something lighter than a t-shirt and jeans; Liv is in a short, floaty dress that looks a lot cooler and more inviting.
The music changes, and Miranda goes to the loo to cool down, pour water over her face and neck. Then to the bar to get another beer from the bucket, hoping to take the edge off her awareness. She watches the dance, seeing familiar people in unfamiliar roles. Dave is doing that weird Deadhead twirl, surprising since he's always been so controlled. Orlando seems made of rhythm, bouncing off everyone, flirting like mad, but always coming back to Dom's steady beat. With a little shock, she realizes that Richard Taylor dances like a dream; he's a beautiful mix of control and abandon, and Philippa is keeping up with him.
Even Peter and Fran are dancing; she had forgotten that they're not that much older, it's fun to watch them rocking out together, and they are so very together. How do they do that? Work as partners? Keep from killing each other in the middle of this giant gamble, and stay lovers, parents, and friends? 'Cause she's seen them, and they are all those things, but how? And can she get some of that, instead of the shit she went through with That Bastard Richie? She doesn't usually let herself admit how much she wants that; must be a little sozzled, how many beers has she had in this heat?
The next song is something from the Seventies, from when she was a kid. She watches Elijah, who switches from dorky monkey jumps to sensuous movements and back at the drop of a hat. He notices her gaze and holds out a hand; she puts down the bottle and joins him. But they don't click, they're just too different, and they drift apart. Alone, Miranda lets the beat of the music wash over her, dancing by herself, knotting her hair up on her head to cool off, as sweat trickles under her arms, between her breasts, down her back.
Someone comes up behind her, starts shadowing her; she can feel the heat on her neck and her back, exciting and a little scary. It's like an amusement park funhouse, the club lights are flashing, the noise is thrumming through her body and there's someone back there. She's not thrilled; with her luck, it will be that jerk from New Line. When big hands land on her hips, she panics, tenses, turns to see -- Karl. He's OK. Maybe better than OK. He's been pursuing her for a while now. It's nice to be pursued.
Maybe it's time to get caught.
Fuck wanting what she can't have. Viggo isn't even here tonight, he's on a fishing trip with Billy. Viggo takes everyone out but her.
But enough pouting like a twelve-year-old with a crush. Karl's hot hands say what his glances have hinted, that he wants her. Wanting is nice, but no matter how easy they've been working together, he's young and and a little callow. He could never give her anything like the Peter-and-Fran partnership, even if he tried. But a fling... He's very pretty. He's got a great body. He's been sweet. It's good to be the desired one, for a change.
Karl is such a good dancer that Miranda feels a little awkward, but he's gentle and responsive, doesn't get mad like That Bastard Richie when she loses the rhythm. Good clue that he'd be sweet in bed. She leans into him and lets him lead. His body radiates heat in the sultry night as they move together. Liv catches her eye across the room with a broad smile and a thumbs-up. Miranda grins back; they've talked about Karl quite a bit.
Karl moves her around again. Now he's close but friendly, no feeling of being captured. At the end of the song, the lights dim, and he leans in, slowly licks down the side of her neck, leaving a cool trail behind. Woah fuck! It's a surprise, but it's devastatingly sexy. She relaxes into it, arches back for more. A few more licks and he's blowing hot-cool air on her, she's sparking all over. Miranda turns towards him and kisses him, slow and sensuous, lets his tongue explore her mouth so long her knees start to buckle. She leans into his strong arms, letting him hold her, tasting him, learning the shape of his mouth.
The music starts again, blasting hip-hop. Karl starts to move to it, but she hates that stuff. He doesn't seem upset when she says, "Not to this; let's get some air."
Outside on the deck, even the warm wind cools her by blowing the moisture on her skin, but Karl is like a furnace next to her.
His voice is hoarse as he says, "Miranda, God, you're so beautiful", as he reaches, tentatively, to touch the back of her neck under the knot of her hair.
She smiles up at him, teasing a little, "You're gorgeous, Karl, and you know it."
He looks a little abashed at that, but doesn't stop running his fingers over her face, trailing along her neck, stroking the planes of her face, down her arms. Discovering the sensitive places inside her wrists, on her fingers, oh yes, there and there and there, hands as erogenous zones, just right. This is heaven; he's so fine at noticing what she likes. Dom told her that Karl's called the "Sex God of Auckland"; this must be why. She reaches out for him, his body hot in many ways, a little slick with sweat. The muscles in his arms bunching under his skin as she touches him. When she trails up under his hair, he pushes back into her hand, closing his eyes and practically purring. She thinks, 'You like that, don't you, you big pussycat'.
There's no one else on this side of the deck; they're alone in the balmy night with the pulse of the music washing over them. Miranda is melting in the heat, letting go of her inhibitions, leaning back against the wall, time to be carried along by the moment. Karl's hands on her back make her shiver; they feel so good, promise so much. She leans forward, tracing his neck with her tongue, finding his sensitive spots by the way his breath hitches; he likes it up under his jaw and at the base of his throat. She blows gently on the wet trail and feels his body tense.
Now he's pulling at her shirt, running his hand up her skin. He's deft and gentle, circling her breasts, teasing at them with his fingertips. Ohmy, that's so good. The rough pads of his fingertips pull the breath out of her as her body tingles and she arches towards him. Another lovely kiss, starting tender and then oh, that tongue filling her, slowly plundering the inside of her mouth, so much better than Richie's quick darts. He's moaning, moving into the kiss; she must be doing it right. When it finally ends, they're both breathing hard, and it's easy to look into his eyes and smile and see him smiling; this is good, this is fine, no drama, just lust and friendship.
He wants her, the tension is coming through his hand, which is starting to squeeze her breast just hard enough, and then to tease her nipple. He's murmuring "oh god" and "so hot" and "want you." Miranda wants him too; she arches her chest into his hand, feeling his other hand hold her around the waist. With that, she lets him take over, swimming in the sea of his expertise. He eases the shirt up a bit, and leans down to tease her breasts with his tongue, driving her wild. She must be getting pretty loud; he's kissing her and shushing her and she gulps some more of the warm air.
Karl's shirt is off now, and Miranda's hands are sliding on his sweat a little as they trace his muscles, his strong body, his dark nipples. She leans into him, wanting more and more. Suddenly he picks her up; she's not small, but feels light in his arms. He carries her to a secluded bench, somehow removes her shirt without seeming grabby. He puts their shirts down over the bare wood, setting her down on the bench and kneeling in front of her.
The part of her brain that's not screaming "Fuck me right now!" is wondering if anyone will see, and if he has protection. But this nook seems safe and private, with vines all around; that's good. It's an act of will to ask, "Do you have a condom?" He nods; apparently Sex Gods come prepared.
Her clothes are getting in the way now; it seems wrong to have anything on. Karl seems to think the same, he looks up at her as his hands come up to her waist above her jeans. His voice is husky, "Want to touch you."
She just nods, can't seem to speak but she wants him to touch her, all over, now.
His hands deftly undo the buttons, stroking her, soothing and arousing at the same time. A moment of panic, what's she got on underneath? If it's the pair of ratty old white panties, she will crawl into a hole and die. Karl looks at her; clearly confused, she's gone all tense and he doesn't know why. But she curls up a little, can see just enough to tell, thankgod, it's the black bikinis. So she just laughs, and shakes her head to reassure him. She leans forward, strokes down his handsome face, almost pretty under the beard. He lifts her a little and slides the jeans off smoothly.
The hot air hits Miranda's skin, making her feel like swimming in a tropical sea. She does a little shimmy, thinking of mermaids, and Karl smiles in obvious admiration. She feels *good* almost naked in the heat, she wants him to be naked too. She pulls him up, and starts unbuttoning his jeans; he peels them off, no underwear, how unsurprisingly convenient. They trail fingers down each other, discovering angles and curves, drawing moans and gasps as they find the most sensitive places.
She's surprised when Karl kneels in front of her, then his mouth starts on her ankles and works upwards, licking and nipping, leaving trails like little sparks. Miranda finds herself lying on the bench but arching up for more. He licks his way up her legs, first on one side, then the other, up to her knees. It's good, sweet, and hot; then suddenly, it's too intense, her brain overloads, her leg twitches and she hears herself laughing nervously. He looks at her, worried, so she pulls him up, sitting forward to kiss him, saying, "I just...um... slow down a little."
"It's OK", Karl murmurs, moving up, his hands coming around her back. She relaxes into his strength, pulling his face closer and kissing him thoroughly, then running her tongue around his mouth and lips, faintly salty from sweat. She leans back a little, running her hands over his chest, feeling his breath hitch, pleased when he starts stroking her as well. His smell, musky in the heat, makes her mouth water, and she brings her head up and kisses him hard. His tongue comes to meet hers, and they dance back and forth between mouths. The way he kisses, the way he fills her mouth, gently but completely, touches something inside of her.
They break apart to breathe, and he trails kisses across her face. He must like to lick; he's humming as he licks down her neck and onto her breasts. It's just what Miranda wants right now, and she's gasping, can't catch her breath. When he starts teasing her nipple, licking and nibbling, then sucking the nub with just the right amount of pressure, he's dragging her moans from deep inside her. She strokes as much of his back as she can reach, marveling at the smoothness of his skin and the lovely muscles underneath. His back shivers with every noise she makes and she can tell they're attuned.
Karl lavishes his hands and mouth down her body, stroking her sides and licking her belly, hot mouth and cool trails, until she writhes. She reaches for him, wanting to give back, but he pats her arm, saying, "This is for you, just relax ...". He moves further down, he's going to -- oh, his mouth! Her hands clench on his shoulders as he gets to that place, in front of her hip, if you touch it any other time, she'll yelp, but now, ohyes, her back arches off the bench again, moving into his touch. He slides her panties down her legs and she wiggles to help him, surprised as the hot air touches her moisture. He gives a little hum, encouragement, appreciation, and his arm trails up her body, wraps around her, holding. Dragging his fingertips over the tender skin inside her thighs as his mouth traces patterns on her hip, teasing, and then his mouth moves down with gentle bites and licks.
She's lost, panting, opening her legs to invite him in, moving to the rhythm he sets, as his mouth gets closer and closer to her eager clit. Loving and hating the anticipation, Miranda is poised on a knife edge, and finally, he gets there. Softly licking her is not enough, she's too aroused and wants it rougher, so she pushes a little and murmurs, "More, harder, please!" He seems to understand, using lips and teeth and breath to spark her pleasure. She's riding the sea of sensation, feeling the heat build. Karl seems in no hurry, he's sucking and licking, sliding inside with his fingers, up and twisting, nice but no jackpot.
She wants his big strong hands instead of his mouth, but can't find words, so she reaches down and just guides his fingers to her clit. He follows her lead, the feeling of his rough fingertips, just the right pressure, sending waves of pleasure through her, overwhelming thought. She's moving with him again, with his rhythm. He's breathing hard and talking to her, "so beautiful, so sexy, give over, sweet...".
All Miranda can do is moan and writhe, wanting more more more and he's giving it to her, stroking, changing angles, touching just right. Wanting to touch Karl, to kiss him, her hands moving up on him, his hot chest rubbing against her sweat-slicked breasts, his hard cock against her.
Finally he gets to her face and kisses her, thoroughly, intently; and twists his fingers just a little harder on her clit just right. Her body sparks and she's coming, yesgodyesohyesYESTHERE, screaming into his kiss, clenching his shoulders, body rocking, pleasure-shocked throughout.
When she slides back into the now, Karl's strong arms are cradling her. He's humming against her, looking at her, smiling. No pressure, all patience and consideration, but she's still feeling lusty, and he's hard as a rock against her. She wants to give back, make this about him now.
Stroking his hair, his back, trailing down to that delicious ass, she's smiling wickedly. When she says "Put it on now, and fuck me," she loves feeling his body jerk when she says the word 'fuck'.
He's able to put on the condom one-handed; experience is so very convenient. But even that little pause gives Miranda enough space to take charge. She shifts and rolls up over him and he looks surprised again, but follows her lead, turning on his back, looking up at her from the bench, smiling as she pulls out the knot and lets her long hair trickle down over his shoulders. She runs her hands over him, feeling his strong young body; he really is like a gorgeous horse and she's going to ride him.
Kneeling up over Karl, she reaches for his cock and watches his face go a little absent as she slides down and back onto it. It feels good inside, a nice size, his hips meeting hers as they move together. He's inside the sensation now, she can tell that. He's lost that controlled look and his face is surprised and vulnerable. She rocks back and forth, angles a little, and now she's feeling it in her clit, warmth spreading through her, ohfuckmoreofthat, More. Of. That!
Her body picks up the pace and his responds and yes, there, right yes fuck! She's coming again, it's so good, his hands holding her up, feeling her cunt pulse against his cock. He jerks three times, his face contorts like he's in pain, and she feels him coming inside her. Both their arms are shaking, so she lies down on his chest, both of them heaving gasping together.
Does time go by? Hard to tell.
Miranda's right knee hurts and her legs are not meant to stay at that angle, so she slides off him and finds a more comfortable position. He pulls the condom off and drops it behind him, gathering her to him and mumbling something sweet. She's sweaty and sticky and content in the hot night.
Time definitely passes.
Before she's really ready to move, before she wants to let go, the wind is pulling at her, whipping her hair around. It's getting noisy and there are leaves flying, a little scary. She looks at Karl, pulling him in for a last long kiss, and murmurs, "Thank you".
He says, "You're beautiful, thank you. Um, can I take you home?"
She isn't ready for that yet, not sure if this is a fling or something more. And her car is here, things would get too complicated. So she smiles and shakes her head, "No, maybe some other day."