OOM: Night Before the Allpocalypse

[trigger_man]

 It's quieter in the upstairs hallway, and there's less evidence of impending disaster up here. It's almost enough to allow you to forget what's going on downstairs, or to write it off.

Almost. Not quite.

Jack turns to Beckett as they reach his room.  "You want to come in for one more drink?"

He doesn't want to say it out loud, but there's a part of him that doesn't want to be alone just yet.

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[fanofthegenre]

She nods quickly, hastily, her hands slipping down to shove fingertips under the waistband, curving slightly to push the fabric down over his hips.

She'll seize the opportunity to slip out of her one remaining piece of clothing, leaving herself completely bare beneath him, palms sliding up his sides in a gentle kneading.

[trigger_man]

He pushes his sweats off his hips quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, doing it before self-consciousness about his scars outweighs the arousal that's clouding his mind. Besides, the faster he does it, the faster he can lean against her again, and the less time either of them has to see the scars on his lower half.

He moans again as he presses his body against her, bare skin against bare skin, his heart beating so hard he's sure she can feel it.

[fanofthegenre]

She gasps as his body slides to fit against hers, hips arching into his before she can stop herself, her pulse hammering in her ears while her hands gently move over his back.

"Jack," she whispers again, slightly more desperate, letting him ease between her thighs with another soft whimper.

[trigger_man]

He shifts between her thighs, the head of his cock nudging between her warm, slick folds.

"God, Kate," he whispers against her neck. He can't wait, and she certainly feels ready.

His hand ghosting over her hip, he pulls back just far enough to position himself at her entrance.

[fanofthegenre]

She forgets how to breathe in that second between, the aligning of their hips and that nudge of his cock - it's like a current pulsing through her body, blood racing.

"Please," she whispers, turning her head to utter the word in his ear. "I want you to, I'm ready."

[trigger_man]

A deep breath and he leans into her, the air rushing out of his lungs as he feels her warmth wrap around him. He pulls back a bit and pushes in again, deeper this time, burying himself in her, joining himself to her.

[fanofthegenre]

Her breath leaves her altogether, all at once and in a rush as she's filled so wholly, so completely.

She can only cling to him as all coherent thought flies out of her head, rhythm and instinct slipping in to take its place.

[trigger_man]

He starts to rock his hips against hers, finding a rhythm as her hips rise to meet him. Every thought melts away, instinct taking over. Nothing else exists other than the movement of her body with his, the sound of their ragged breaths, the slap of skin meeting skin.

As he moves, the throbbing ache inside him builds. He wants more, wants to hold off climax so he can stay right here, in this haze of arousal as long as possible, and to make sure he takes Beckett with him.

[fanofthegenre]

She can feel him deep, pulsing hot and hard, each exhale becoming a tiny whimper with each thrust of his hips, and she seizes the opportunity to run her hands over him, fingertips kneading the muscles of his back as they tense and relax.

Even if this is their last night, a part of her imagines she'll find a way to remember this.

[trigger_man]

He moans against her mouth, kissing her in between gasped breaths. With one hand, he encourages her to wrap her legs around him, to pull her hips upward so he can thrust in harder, deeper.

"Oh fuck, Kate," he breathes against her neck, his control starting to slip.

The world could end right now, and he'd go happily.

[fanofthegenre]

Her legs lash around his waist, changing the angle with a tilt of her hips, her next gasp turning to an outright moan as he slides deeper.

"Don't stop," she pleads, clutching at his shoulders. "God, it's - it's too good."

[trigger_man]

Jack isn't sure he could stop if he wanted to and right now, stopping is the last thing he wants to do. Stopping would mean letting go of these sensations, of that wonderful ache that just grows more intense by the minute.

It's not entirely something he can control though, and he's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to hang in there.

[fanofthegenre]

There's a rhythm they find that works, a slow pace that builds in urgency and intensity until se can barely take a breath without greedily moaning for more - and even as she feels her body beginningto spiral, it already feels like it's too soon, not long enough. She's close, fingertips digging in as her body draws tight against him.

"Jack, I - " It's all she manages to grit out before the wave hits her, swift and coursing, and she arches into him with a cry and a shudder that feels neverending.

[trigger_man]

Her walls clench around him and his thread of control snaps. He lets out a cry as release washes over him, his hips moving in a couple more shaky thrusts as he comes, not wanting to let go of this feeling just yet.

For a moment, he can't even breathe, and it's the last thing he's thinking about.

[fanofthegenre]

When she finally regains her breath, there are still spots dancing in her vision, and she closes her eyes against them, exhaling shakily against the shell of his ear.

Her fingertips caress the curvature of his spine, moving between his shoulderblades, a few more residual shudders making their way through her. When she shifts, easing her legs down, every nerve ending goes off, and she gasps again through those lingering pulses.

[trigger_man]

He leans his head against her shoulder as he comes down from his peak, only moving so he can withdraw from her as she unwraps her legs from his waist. Every muscle in his body feels weak and shaky, but he keeps himself propped up on his arms, not wanting to crush her when she's as out of breath as he is.

He rolls to the side, pulling her with him, wanting to keep the feeling of her sweat-slickened skin on his, her warm softness curled against him.

[fanofthegenre]

When he rolls to one side, pulling her with him, she goes willingly, curling up along his side with one arm resting limp across his middle. She turns her face in against his shoulder and breathes him in, sweat and skin, her thumb moving in a wide sweep along his ribs.

She knows she doesn't need to say anything, not for a while. She's not sure she would even know what to say if she could manage words at the moment.

[trigger_man]

It takes a couple minutes before he can even sort out all the thoughts in his head, much less put them into words. Partly because everything feels so overwhelming, partly because exhaustion is starting to catch up with him.

"I'd forgotten what that could feel like," he says softly, after a minute or two. He snakes his fingers through her hair, tilting his head to kiss her.

[fanofthegenre]

She ducks her head slightly to hide her smile - or starts to, at least, until she feels his hand threading through her hair, turning her face up to his for a lingering kiss that still holds some heat.

She rolls over, sliding across his front to prop herself up over his chest. "Well, the world could end tomorrow," she admits, with a wry grin. "Maybe you needed a reminder."

[trigger_man]

"Yeah," he says with a slightly sad smile, "I think I did. Especially when there's no one else I'd rather spend this night with."

[fanofthegenre]

The smile on her lips fades in the wake of the sobering reality check, and she kisses him again, this one more tender.

"Then I'm not going anywhere," she insists, resting her head against his shoulder.

[trigger_man]

He wraps his arms around her, as if by holding on to her now he can keep her safe from whatever's coming, even though he knows the chances are good that no one's going to make it through this.

"Neither am I."