Rebound (NSFW)

Disclaimer: The following is NOT SAFE FOR WORK! It might also be not safe for your sanity ;) Proceed at your own risk.

I was agonizing about not being able to write intimate scenes properly without it getting corny. Darling suggested that I try to just write a piece as practice, as rounchy as I can get. He also suggested that I just keep it private, stashed in a drawer (or a virtual one, since I don't keep print-outs of my work). Sorry, I'm just too much of an attention whore to do that... Also, it's not really as rounchy as it could be, considering, but it's still a step in that direction. Also, I didn't write it about Bory & Ezri.  Oh, and Darling, I did bloody warn you that you might not like it ;)

***




She was sitting on her bed, leaning on her knees, her head hanging. The room was predominantly red, from bed-covers to wall paint to the shaggy rug on the floor. The bright, energetic colour was not matched with her mood, which was dull and apathetic. She didn't know for how long she had been sitting there, staring at nothing. She didn't know for how much longer she'd keep on staring at nothing.

"Uniform", a man from the door called to her. Her hazel eyes turned to eye the slim, black-haired intruder of her misery. Her sandy blond hair masked most of her face from him, but it was still obvious that she didn't welcome him in. She didn't tell him to go away either. And this was the point the man was going to exploit.

"You've got to cheer up", Matt continued, leaning casually on the door frame, and crossing his arms. He had a rueful smile on his lips and empathy in his light green eyes. Emma could never tell whether it was genuine or not, the thief could pour out lies like silk. But it would be easier to believe that he was concerned about her. She couldn't afford becoming paranoid now. She had too much confusion in her head already.

"No I don't", she replied. Matt let out a small chuckle. In one fluid movement the man pushed himself off the frame, strode the small distance between them and sat by the balls of his feet. His face was now very close to hers, ignoring all conventions of personal space. Defiantly, she didn't avert her eyes. Most people on the other end of that stare would have backed away, slowly, like from snake rattling its tail. Matt wasn't like most people.

He leaned in, closing his lips on hers. Her lips were dry, but still very kissable and could easily be moistened with a tip of a tongue. One hand in her hair and the other on her waist he gently drew her closer, while parting her lips with his.

He finally let go, only to be stared by those hazel eyes with no life sparking in them.

"You fool. You're not afraid that I won't fall in love with you too?" she asked mockingly. He gave Emma a gentle smile, while stroking her short hair like his fingers had a mind of their own.

"You're not that stupid. You know I'd never love you back. There's no lie there."

"You're not impervious to love, Quill", she cut in coldly, making him grimace when she called him by his real name instead of the code name she had been using for months now, "I know for a fact that there's a girl you love."

"Yes, but I don't have sex with the girl I love. That'd be... wrong. Just wrong." He shook his head, gaining a glimpse of a lopsided grin.

"But you would have sex with me?" There was no invitation in her voice. There was no rejection either.

Springing up from his crouch, he forced her to lean back on the bed. Her short top revealed a nice view of her trimmed abdomen. His hand brushed up along her waist, making her shiver. So she was the ticklish sort.

"Yes, I would", he said with a raspy voice, "You need to get back on the horse, Uniform. No point in dwelling in misery. He's gone, you'll live on."

One push, that would have looked more like a weak shove to an onlooker, threw him off her. With a painful thump he hit the opposite wall. Like a cat, he landed on his feet and managed to look like he had just jumped there himself of his own volition.

With little effort she hoisted her athletic figure off the bed and pinned him against the red-painted wall. Her head cocked slightly to the side, she glared at him menacingly. To his credit, his faint smile didn't waver.

"Shut up", she growled. There was rage in her eyes. Sparks of wrath, the first sign of life from her.

"Shut the fuck up, and fuck me."

She grabbed his hair violently, jerking his head closer. Her lips were pressed tightly on his mouth. There was more anger in that kiss than passion, but he complied to it.

His hands trailed up her muscular thighs, along the curve of her well-shaped ass and up her waist, until crossing behind her back, squeezing her tightly against his body. Panting, she unlocked the kiss, only to fumble at his neck with her mouth. He let out a sigh of pleasure, grabbing her hair with one hand, not pulling her off. The other was lost under her top. She didn't need a bra. Her breasts were firm and fit nicely in his hand. The nipple erected from the touch of his thumb. Reacting to the sensation, she bit down on his shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood or even to cause any real pain, but just pressing her teeth on his skin.

He lifted her chin without resistance and while his tongue touched hers, his hand was already on its way downwards. His deft fingers were his livelihood and the buttons of her cargo pants were no obstacle for them. Sliding his hand through the coarse pubic hair he found his destination, the warm, already moist vulva. She pressed harder on his lips.

He moved his finger rhythmically, making her whimper and gasp for air. Her fist was clutched, tugging his shirt. Letting her pant, he teased her neck with his tongue and lips. The involuntary shudders of her body came from the pleasure she felt from his touches.

Just before she lost control, she suddenly pushed herself away from him. His hand managed to grip the waistband of her trousers at the last moment, keeping her at an arm's length. Her cheeks were a bit flushed, something he had never seen on her face before. He grinned devilishly, showing a row of perfectly white teeth. She reached for his collar with her left hand. Like paper, the shirt tore at her pull.

"I said to fuck me, Foxtrot."

The button of his jeans pinged as it ricocheted off some surface of the room. Grinning even more widely, Matt took a step towards Emma, who in turn took a step back. Both sliding out of their bottoms, they reached the bed, where Matt finally caught up with her. Pushing her on to the covers, grabbing one of her thighs over his arm, he kissed her belly. His mouth travelled around in circles, over the tattooed French words, spiralling downwards. She pulled his hair, forcing him to cease his journey. Instead, he climbed on top of her, lifting her pelvis into a better position.

He was nimble, but she was strong and she knew how she liked it. She moved in perfect harmony with his pushes. Her thighs clamped him and guided his angle. He had to grit his teeth, he couldn't let this be over too quickly.

He leaned on his side and she caught his intention. In a fluid swing, she was on top of him. Pulling her top off she gave him the best view he could hope for. Her breasts glistened with light sweat and her stomach moved like that of a belly-dancer. She was indeed an athlete, training ever muscle she had and now she was squeezing tightly around his cock. But she slowed down the pace and Matt could force himself to relax and just enjoy the ride.

He laid on his back, his arms spread out on the bed. Emma supported herself with one hand on his chest, brushing her hair off her face with the other. The thrusts of her pelvis became more powerful and she let out a small moan.

Grabbing a tit in one palm and groping her bum with the other, Matt sat up. She almost seemed to lose her balance, but held onto him tightly. There was passion in that kiss, finally, red-hot passion. Their intertwined bodies now matched the room perfectly.

Everything seemed to distort in unison with their ever quickening pace and moans she couldn't hold in. The red bed cover was wrinkled, making it look like a sea of red candies. She was close on climaxing and he could only hope he would last that long. Pulling her down with him, they crashed into the sea of M&M's, red drops of chocolate rattling to the floor.

Jerking her head back, she let out a throaty scream of delight. He came as well, but did not lift her off just yet. Combing her hair, moist with sweat, he drew her for a final kiss which she didn't object at all...

Nigel's eyes blinked open. He was breathing heavily and could feel some uncomfortable pressure in his briefs. Being careful not to wake Audrye he tiptoed his way to the bathroom where he quickly splashed cold water on his face. That might not be enough though. There was a bulge at the front of his pyjama pants.

Why did he have a dream like that? And of those two of all the people?! If he were to have a sex dream about Emma, who he totally did not think of in that way, wouldn't it be more logical for himself being the one banging her? No, he had to chuckle at the thought. He would certainly not perform that well, even in a dream, and Emma would never use him for a rebound, and not least because of Audrye. This scenario though, Nigel could give it a chance of 80%, given the premises of the dream. Not grade A, definitely, but plausible.

***

So yeah, it's not that bad... ;) It was actually Darling's suggestion, that I write about a wet dream, only the talk was about a dream Bory would have about Ezri. So I just implemeted that idea, mixing it up with the talk we had after the last game, about doing fanfics of these characters. Matt/Emma is definitely fanfic material!

Still this was mainly for practice and if I ever end up making a full novel about Nigel, this won't be in it (there's actually no point in adding a dream about Emma/Matt there). So if there's any critique about it, let me hear it! I could use the pointers if I do a love scene of Nigel/Audrye in the novel. ;)