hhanon | Round 3 - Return of the Meme

Round 3 - Return of the Meme

General Rules

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Prompting Rules

One prompt per comment.
Please follow the correct format (see below).
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Format of Prompts

Put [RPF] before RPF prompts.
For crossover prompts: "[Crossover], HH Character(s)/Other Character(s), [Fandom]"
Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other."
Put [GEN] before GEN prompts, just so you don't get unwanted shipping.
Use appropriate warnings. I'm trusting you all to know what that means.
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Archiving Prompts and Fills

To make the archiving job easier, please drop a link to your fill/unprompted fic here at the fills post.
Nothing here you fancy filling? Take a look at the unfilled prompts archived here or at Round 1 or Round 2.

That's nearly the end of the storia, for onto the scene comes our much loved meme: HAIL TO THE QUEEN OF PROMPTIA.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She pushed Mike towards the sofa, listening to him echo Heph's sentiments about relaxing to be a better fighter. She had to admit, even if only to herself, that she had no idea what he was actually saying - she was more interested in getting him on that sofa and between her thighs.

Sam had been thinking about this all day. She'd had to put in a few hours in the office that morning, and had been forced to leave Mike in bed - which had been sheer torture. He'd been... different last night; more forceful and confident. Not to say that Mike was usually weak or timid in bed, but he'd never just thrown her down and gone for it the way he had when she'd crept into their flat in the wee hours of the morning.

She'd spent the afternoon looking for some new posh frocks for various occasions (the words 'engagement party' floating through her mind unacknowledged, because they'd have to have one eventually but they didn't even have a date yet) and once she'd chosen a few she liked, she felt compelled to buy underwear and accessories and she'd even picked up a pair of shoes. She didn't shop like this often - and her bank balance would thank her if she did it less - but when she did...

All she'd been able to think about was Mike pushing her up against a wall, unzipping each dress slowly and letting it fall from her body...

His fingertips brushing lightly down her back, the languorous click of the zip and the feel of his breath on her neck...

She pushed Mike down and put her knees on either side of his hips, settling on the sofa and pressing close. She'd prepared for shopping, worn comfortable heels with a dress easy to remove, and with her hips now against Mike's, she was thankful for her foresight all over again. He groaned as she settled her weight over him, his jeans rough against her inner thighs.

She'd paused for a moment when she'd walked in, before calling to Mike in the kitchen, knowing she had maybe five seconds at most before the sound of the door with no obvious arrival had him poking his head around the counter; she hadn't intended her underwear to be easily removable, but in the few moments Mike had unintentionally allowed her, they did the job.

His eyes widened and he let out a shocked little huff of air as his gaze darkened.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, trailing one hand up to the back of her neck, gently pressuring her head down to allow their lips to meet. It was wet, slow and messy; dirty but unhurried and just the way Sam wanted it. Mike pulled away and began to trail kisses across her jaw.

He groaned something against her neck, teeth grazing lightly against her skin, but she couldn't make out words and supposed she probably wasn't meant to. They hardly needed them anyway, so she moaned at the sensation as an answer, and arched to give Mike more access. Her breath was coming in shorter pants as Mike traced kisses along the edge of the scoop of the neck of her dress, slipping his hands down to her thighs. As he reached the skin over her heart with his lips, he pushed the hem of her dress up, past her hips and let the slight stretch of the zip-less tunic do its work; Sam lifted her arms and Mike threw it behind him, grinning up at her. He smoothed his palms over her waist, around and up her back, watching her eyelids flutter and feeling the delicate arch of her back and the flex of her hips against his.

Sam felt the contrast to their frantic tumble last night and grinned; Mike was showing some hidden depths of late, and with every new little thing she discovered she only loved him more. He raised an eyebrow, a smug little smile on his face as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, and cupped one of her breasts as he reached around to unhook her bra.

The slow burn of his touches had her remarkably worked up and the first contact of his tongue (with a flash of teeth, just how she liked it) against her left nipple had her whimpering and grinding her hips down against his. Even through the denim she could feel his erection and she was really done with slow.

She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back into the sofa, putting her own weight forward on her knees to create some space for Mike to lift his hips. He looked at her questioningly until she reached between them and opened the button on his jeans, carefully sliding the zipper down and encouraging him to lift up so she could slide the denim off his hips.

He'd taken to going without boxers beneath his jeans of late; she was always thankful at moments such as these.

She took him in hand - her turn to watch as his head tipped back against the back of the sofa and he swallowed thickly, throat bobbing and looking positively bitable - and moved her hips back down, years of practice and her months of intimate knowledge of Mike's body allowing her to easily position her hips and control the slow slide of him inside her. She couldn't help the deep sigh as she settled herself (the tight fill of him inside her always welcome) and she placed her hands on his shoulders to get her balance. Mike's warm hands settled on her waist, their sharp and uneven breaths meeting as they kissed again, their tongues a lazy slide against one another. With a squeeze of her hands the only warning, she began to lift her hips, Mike guiding her movements with a moan of approval.

She laughed breathily as he guided her hips forcefully down again, encouraging her to fuck herself on him as she liked. She obliged, dragging her fingernails across the backs of his shoulderblades as she all but lifted her body off his cock and slammed back down again, and again, and again. It was hell on her thighs - the sofa cushions were not designed with sex-support in mind - but the worshipful look on Mike's face, which warred delightfully with the aggressive and lusty glare, was enough to make her put it out of her mind. She'd deal with the inevitable aches tomorrow, and have the added bonus of thinking about this moment while she clenched the tired muscles gingerly under her desk.

Mike was moving one hand; her head was tipped back, her breasts pushed forward as her spine arched and she could feel his fingertips trail a path from her hip to her belly and down to tease that tight, pulsing bundle of nerves above where they were joined and fucking so deliciously. He was stroking her clit every time her hips flattened out against his and he was clearly determined to make her come first. If they were in bed, she would have made a challenge of it but she was desperate to finish this round, had been working towards it all day and he wasn't worth fighting.

The tidal wave of her orgasm was threatening on the horizon, and he had her so close. She clenched her hands, her nails digging little crescent moons into his shoulders which she couldn't wait to kiss later in apology, and Mike's hips were rising to meet hers. He was close, just as she was and she wasn't conventionally a screamer but she was suddenly aware of her high, panting cries, a litany of his name and please, a mirror to his, "Oh, god, Sam." She came with no cry at all, her breath caught in her throat and she thought for a moment she might burst with it, her legs locking tight around Mike and his warm hands holding her down as he came after her, her name a low groan on his lips.

She desperately tried to catch her breath, little aftershocks and the sensitive chill of the evening air against her bare skin making her shudder. Mike leaned up to kiss her again, another lazy motion of mouths like the first, as she pressed against his chest. He gently stroked his hand up and down her spine, a calming movement as their gasps finally ebbed into deep, synchronised breaths.

"Mmm," Sam hummed happily. The day's wait had been more than worth it, and she knew from experience that they could get another round in later with some generous foreplay. Whatever (or more likely a Viking-inspired whomever) had inspired Mike into a manly frenzy last night, she'd have to find a way to thank them. "Bedroom or shower?"

Mike pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone and chuckled. "Why not both?"

Round 3 - Return of the Meme

UNPROMPTED: Sofa Sex Smike, NC-17 (1/3)

Re: UNPROMPTED: Sofa Sex Smike, NC-17 (2/3)

Re: UNPROMPTED: Sofa Sex Smike, NC-17 (3/3)