Word Count: 2.367
Disclaimer: I really wish I owned Alec, but I own nothing. Except this fic which is my shout to wishful thinking
Summary: they were not above this.
A/N: titled after "Dancing in the Moonlight", Jeff Buckley's cover.
Dancing in the Moonlight
He’d asked her to stay.
She still didn’t know why, or how had she agreed. She knew what he was asking from her, she knew what she was giving him. He’d asked her to stay and she’d understood what he was asking.
It hadn’t been fast as she thought he would want it, as she’d tried to go.
“Slow” he had whispered in her ear “slow down” and she got it. She finally got it. He wasn’t asking for something to help him forget, he wanted something to remember.
She’d give him that, she’d make it memorable. But when she reached down to cup him, to remove his pants, he’d stilled her fingers and just looked into her eyes, the message very clear for them both. So instead her hand took a path over his chest to wind in his hair.
“I’m here. I’m always here” she whispered, something sacred between them.
“I know” raspy. He leaned in and took her lips, finally going faster, harder, finally matching her memories. His hands going under her top, looking for skin and shivers.
She gave in, just like that. She knew it wouldn’t last, she knew this wasn’t love, it was desperation. Chemistry. Not love. And despite that, she gave in because she wanted to, and he needed her to.
He groaned when her hands went to pull up his shirt. After moving away just long enough to get rid of it he returned to her, more intense, not frantic but more there, like every second that went by meant more… something. More of what he could get. Or of what he could give, she wasn’t sure which one.
Her top was gone, her bra was falling and he was pulling her against him. Hard lines pressed against softer ones, heat rushing to color her skin, and his arms around her as if he were trying to meld them together into one single item; eliminate the difference. She really didn’t notice when did it all start going faster. It still felt too slow. She wanted more, she wanted him inside. Now.
But that wouldn’t be him. He liked to play by his rules, and all of her attempts at getting this show started crashed against the wall of his resolve. So she gave up, for now contenting herself with letting him set the pace, letting his tongue drag over her skin, mapping it, leaving a burning trail in its wake, forcing her to arch asking for more. Asking for it to never end, and asking for it to go faster, to get it over with so she could breathe again and focus on something else but him. Anything would do.
Typical, this pull in opposite directions; she was used to it whenever he was involved.
Fingers tracing valleys and planes, remembering spots and finding new ones, creating new ones like he wanted to own her, to imprint himself on her skin in the only way he knew how, or even thought possible. Silly boy.
An arched cry had him back on her lips, tongue sweeping in, teeth pulling on her bottom lip not hard enough to break the skin, but with enough force to make her moan, wrap a leg around him, grind against his erection, take notice on how his pants were still on and hers had been deftly removed leaving her to dread the rough friction of the denim on her skin, a far cry from the kind of friction she was craving.
He chuckled against her throat, sending warm breath across her skin, stoking that heat in her belly. Relenting he pulled away, just long enough, just far enough to get rid of the barrier of fabric that had insulted the tender skin of her thighs. Skin he tended to immediately, kissing softly the crease where thigh met hip, skidding a bit higher to her hipbone, then back down to suck on the inside of one thigh, hands pressing her knees wide.
And it wasn’t until she arched off the bed, fists gripping sheets and crumbling them with the force of her pleasure, that she realized he’d pushed her onto his bed and her head was awfully close to the headboard. When had this happened was a fuzzy memory at best, not that she was pushing that subject right now.
And maybe that was how this whole thing got started in the first place, the first step taken without her even noticing it, all thanks to his ability to erase every last shred of anything else that wasn’t him, egotistical bastard that he was.
Her entire existence was reduced to that room, a boiling sea that sucked her under, burning her skin and infecting her soul, killing her mind and every trace of coherence until all that was left was Alec and his tongue drawing circles around her clit, small things that had her shuddering and arching and panting between wordless moans.
His thumb sliding furtively along her opening, testing her readiness, tasting it. Two fingers finding their way into sleek heat. And she whispered something incomprehensible, tangled up with his name -and possibly a bad word, she wasn’t sure- that had him back over her, his heat blanketing her, lips searing through her collar bone, even as his fingers worked in and out of her slowly, so slowly.
Max was helpless before this, in the face of what this meant, of what it said about them. About her. So she took it all, not a caring in the world, this was happening and it would eventually be over, what would come out of it was a distant concept she could not, try as she might, manage to care about at the moment.
Alec was all intensity, all or nothing at all, he wouldn’t take it if she only offered half of it; and the thing was, she needed him to take it all, to ask for everything she had to give and just take it.
Why, was another question that didn’t bother her at all. Too far away in a past that might or might not have been.
Her present was Alec’s mouth plundering hers, pushing her own taste into her tongue; fingers slowing down further and she didn’t think that was even possible.
God, how long had it been for her? A few months, a few weeks? Less. And yet here she was, desperate to get more, after having proven herself able to hold her ground for years on end -heat notwithstanding- here she was begging for more after mere days.
“Max” he rasped, need and want there, yes. But there was something else too, something darker and stronger that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and it irked her to think how little did she know him.
So much shared time and she still didn’t know him that well. Irk increased by how he just got her, seemed to know everything there was to be known about her and she didn’t reciprocate. Couldn’t.
She cupped his face between her hands, thumbs following the strong lines of his bones, stubble distracting her for a beat there, unusual for him to leave it and that threw her a little, but her lips sought his; a tender peck, a soft nibble and her eyes were back on his again, bottomless wells of green never shying away from her, pleading with her to just… do something.
“It’s me, Alec” she whispered, soothing “It’s me”.
Alec pitched forward, his kiss not as tender as hers, not at all, and yet it was sweeter because of what she did know about him.
He doused her with his passion, his intensity; naked emotions, unmasked need that he wouldn’t show anyone else, much less in such a moment. And it gave Max an extra thrill, the knowledge that she was able to get him to open up, to get him to trust her with his most intimate side; she, of all people, could get this out of him.
She responded in kind, matching his want with her own, and that was all it took.
The familiarity of this surprised her, but at the same it didn’t. It felt right, but not in the romantic sort of way, when being with your other half makes everything brighter, no, this right was about inevitability; something pulling at the edges of her brain told her this was coming. For a very long while, this had been coming, they were just waiting for it.
When it first happened she had run away, the second time he’d stared her into staying, the third time was the beginning and then the fourth time she had given up on all pretenses and just let his heat next to her warm her into pillow talking.
So the soft whisper of skin on skin was not unfamiliar, it was expected and rightfully theirs.
Alec kissed dirty and rough, completely committed to the task at hand. To the woman in his hands. Max let it sweep her away, throwing her head back when he settled his weight between her thighs, teasing like he always did. Alec.
“Alec” she heard herself whisper, not a moan, just a whisper and more intimate because of that. A name she had given him and would only fit that she’d be the only one allowed to say it like that.
Max could count the gold dotting the green in his eyes, he was so close. He smiled something slow and only slightly predatory, once again a gesture that was all Alec, a smirk she could not see anywhere else, something as characteristically his as his designation.
He pushed forward then and this, this was them. A rhythm established subconsciously, a push-pull that always followed them around and they could not escape it. This was the non-verbal version of their constant bickering. It all led to this.
Max closed her eyes and it was even more intense that way because the sight of his eyes couldn’t distract her from his breathing, the thump of his heartbeat against her skin, his hand in her hair and his lips pressing down the pulse point in her throat.
“Alec” it felt like too much, too hot, too close, too much. Max planted a heel on the mattress and pushed up, rolling them over and sitting astride him, knees digging deep into the bed as she rocked down on him. For the first time Alec closed his eyes, for just a second, head thrown back and hands squeezing her hips.
She splayed a hand on his stomach, reveling on the strength of the muscles bunching there, soft, flawless skin hiding the raw power that had been genetically engineered into him. Another part of Alec she had to figure out by experiencing it. Just like everything else about him.
This was Alec, unyielding power barely concealed but masterfully masked.
His hand skated higher across her body, dragging sweat and heat over the surface of her skin, fingers stopping to play with a nipple before tangling in her hair and pulling forward, forcing her to come down to his level, lips locking together and Alec taking over again. Never willing to let go of the advantaged position, not even for her.
It was still too much. He always did this, always faced her with everything she wished she could just look over, always dragging her into lands where she had to trust him in order to survive and she hated that about him. Hated that she let him do that to her.
At the beginning she could have fooled herself, maybe. Back when they were just needing the release and finding it in his bed just seemed convenient, back when they could have closed their eyes and just replace the face of the other with somebody else’s if they wanted. Back when it was just two bodies, not two people.
But that was no longer an option, because at some point the anonymity of “Jesus” and “yes” and “more” turned into his breathy “God, Maxie” and her rhythmic “Alec, Alec, Alec”. Convenience turned into safety, safety into comfort. Now, what once was easy and uncompromising was a habit, a melding of bodies and histories that would lead to nowhere because that was all it could ever be.
They were both on the same boat, both alone and hunted, both sharing a bad childhood and a crappy adulthood, both dealing with the possibility of no future. They were both speaking the same language here, a language no one else could understand and that’s why it had to be like this. That’s why it had to be them.
Max propped herself up on her arms above him, finally daring to pick up the pace –finally- eyes still fixed on Alec’s, an intimacy she might have regreted having with him of all people, but it was comforting, a reminder that yes, she was alive and this body beneath hers was in the exact same condition and, because of that, could understand what it meant for her.
Alec let out a grunt, hips arching up into her, matching the throbbing of her clit, and suddenly it all started happening fast, the blood speeding up to her head as liquid fire rushed down her spine, her world exploding around her while she closed her eyes and her teeth found Ale’s shoulder.
He called her name when he came, an action almost as violent as her biting.
Afterwards they laid there, no cuddling necessary, just each other and the air cooling the sweat on their skins. No words spoken, no meaningful looks, just satiated needs and the possibility of another round later on if she stayed put.
Max idly toyed with the idea of feeling guilty, but decided against it, it wasn’t like they were doing something wrong, it wasn’t wrong. It was the human side of them, she decided as Alec’s breathing regained it’s normal rhythm, the one that had ultimately pushed them into it. They both needed the comfort and security these trysts brought along. There was no reason for guilt; it wasn’t wrong because she was not above this.
They were not above this.