Don't Fail; Iron Man; Adult
Aug. 23rd, 2010 04:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgynleriTitle: Don't Fail
Fandom: Iron Man
Rating: Adult
Characters: Ivan Vanko, OC
Word Count: 614
Summary: "Beautiful," she murmurs, fingers absently tracing patterns etched into his skin over a decade in prison.
Her fingers are light against his skin, delicately tracing the lines and shapes of the ink beneath it. There's a slight hitch to her breath as lips follow fingers, and he watches her as she leaves a trail of barely-there kisses over his torso. Holding her gaze when she looks up, raising an eyebrow at the fascinated expression on her face, the darkness of her eyes from pupils blown wide with arousal. It's a good look on her, and one he hasn't seen before, in brief encounters that are more about meeting simple physical needs than anything else.
"Beautiful," she murmurs, fingers absently tracing patterns etched into his skin over a decade in prison. Keeping her gaze fixed on his face as she settles herself between his legs, her elbows on the mattress on either side of his hips. Her expression is a mix of hunger and reverence as she dips her head to trace the lines of his tattoos with the tip of her tongue.
She keeps her touch maddeningly light, and he lets out an irritated hiss, reaching to pull her up, rolling them over to push her against the mattress. Tolerating the score of her nails over the same lines she'd traced with fingertips earlier better than that light touch. He lifts her hips to better angle them, thrusting in with one swift move, seeking the release that he's always found with her. Fast and hard, hands roaming over soft curves with more care than he shows nearly anyone else.
Her lips are soft against his throat a moment before she nips at the pulse point beneath the tattoo there, nuzzling it as she clings, meeting his motions. Murmurs in his ear of praise and admiration, of him, of the ink that stains his skin with stories for those who can read them. Clinging to him, nails digging into his shoulders as his thrusts lose rhythm, as his balls draw up and he spills into her. Letting her grind against him, finding her own release with a sharply indrawn breath, and convulsive shudders.
Perhaps it's not entirely a bad thing to let her see him, to spend a little more time in drawing out his pleasure. Not an experience he expects to repeat, though, not after he leaves this time. To seek out his vengence on Tony Stark, and possibly to die in the process. Or perhaps to end his days in another prison cell for what he plans to do, far from here.
She's curled against his side, soft curves and delicate nails as she lazily traces his tattoos again. He can feel her gaze on his face, and after a moment, he pushes away, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to her. Letting her take in the ink that scrolls across the skin there before he pushes to his feet.
"Take care of the bird," he says as he pulls on his trousers. He wouldn't have left her with that much, if his bird didn't need looking after and he didn't expect to be able to do so later.
The creak of the mattress accompanies her movement, feet making little noise on the threadbare carpet of her flat as she comes over. Fingers tracing over his back, and the tattoos there without her saying a word. No promises, and no questions, just silence as he steps away, pulling his shirt over his head. She's watching him with an inscruitable expression when he looks back, not letting him see if she's upset at his leaving or not.
"Don't fail," is her only response, given just before he opens the door to leave.
And he doesn't.
Fandom: Iron Man
Rating: Adult
Characters: Ivan Vanko, OC
Word Count: 614
Summary: "Beautiful," she murmurs, fingers absently tracing patterns etched into his skin over a decade in prison.
Her fingers are light against his skin, delicately tracing the lines and shapes of the ink beneath it. There's a slight hitch to her breath as lips follow fingers, and he watches her as she leaves a trail of barely-there kisses over his torso. Holding her gaze when she looks up, raising an eyebrow at the fascinated expression on her face, the darkness of her eyes from pupils blown wide with arousal. It's a good look on her, and one he hasn't seen before, in brief encounters that are more about meeting simple physical needs than anything else.
"Beautiful," she murmurs, fingers absently tracing patterns etched into his skin over a decade in prison. Keeping her gaze fixed on his face as she settles herself between his legs, her elbows on the mattress on either side of his hips. Her expression is a mix of hunger and reverence as she dips her head to trace the lines of his tattoos with the tip of her tongue.
She keeps her touch maddeningly light, and he lets out an irritated hiss, reaching to pull her up, rolling them over to push her against the mattress. Tolerating the score of her nails over the same lines she'd traced with fingertips earlier better than that light touch. He lifts her hips to better angle them, thrusting in with one swift move, seeking the release that he's always found with her. Fast and hard, hands roaming over soft curves with more care than he shows nearly anyone else.
Her lips are soft against his throat a moment before she nips at the pulse point beneath the tattoo there, nuzzling it as she clings, meeting his motions. Murmurs in his ear of praise and admiration, of him, of the ink that stains his skin with stories for those who can read them. Clinging to him, nails digging into his shoulders as his thrusts lose rhythm, as his balls draw up and he spills into her. Letting her grind against him, finding her own release with a sharply indrawn breath, and convulsive shudders.
Perhaps it's not entirely a bad thing to let her see him, to spend a little more time in drawing out his pleasure. Not an experience he expects to repeat, though, not after he leaves this time. To seek out his vengence on Tony Stark, and possibly to die in the process. Or perhaps to end his days in another prison cell for what he plans to do, far from here.
She's curled against his side, soft curves and delicate nails as she lazily traces his tattoos again. He can feel her gaze on his face, and after a moment, he pushes away, sitting up on the edge of the bed with his back to her. Letting her take in the ink that scrolls across the skin there before he pushes to his feet.
"Take care of the bird," he says as he pulls on his trousers. He wouldn't have left her with that much, if his bird didn't need looking after and he didn't expect to be able to do so later.
The creak of the mattress accompanies her movement, feet making little noise on the threadbare carpet of her flat as she comes over. Fingers tracing over his back, and the tattoos there without her saying a word. No promises, and no questions, just silence as he steps away, pulling his shirt over his head. She's watching him with an inscruitable expression when he looks back, not letting him see if she's upset at his leaving or not.
"Don't fail," is her only response, given just before he opens the door to leave.
And he doesn't.