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Title: Don't Believe In Anything You Can't Break
Fandom: Revenge
Author:![[info]](../../img/userinfo.gif?v=3)
redbrunja
Rating: R
Warning: Sex.
Characters: Emily Thorne/Nolan Ross
Author's Note: This is a bribe forstainofmylove.
Summary: What drives you on | Can drive you mad | A million lies to sell yourself | Is all you ever had.
"You should get some actual friends," she said. She had one hand twisted in Nolan's hair, her opposite arm held belligerently across her belly, a leg thrown over his shoulder, heel digging into his back, and shoulders stiff against his four-hundred-count sheets. Her voice, however, was sweet, faintly concerned, gentle. Pitch-perfect Emily Thorne.
Since Nolan was a very smart man, his reaction was to raise his head from between her thighs and look concerned for a minute, before a smug, smile crawled across his face. "Awww, am I worrying you?" He turned his head, scrapped teeth across her inner thigh. "Am I a bit too impregnable for your liking?"
Her grip on his hair tightened. She sat up, pulling his head towards hers.
"Anyone's life can be destroyed," she breathed, their mouths so close she could taste herself on his lips. "Anyone's."
"You'd know that better than I would," Nolan agreed. He fingered her, her flesh so sensitive that she actually cried out just from the brush of his thumb, and writhed embarrassingly when he circled her clit with a forefinger. Nolan's face went blank as she moved, as she came. He had to clear his throat twice before he could continue. "I'd tell you what my fatal weakness is," he said as Emily flopped back, pushed damp curls off his forehead. "But you're a clever girl – I wouldn't want to take away the fun of you figuring it out for yourself."
Fandom: Revenge
Author:
redbrunjaRating: R
Warning: Sex.
Characters: Emily Thorne/Nolan Ross
Author's Note: This is a bribe for
stainofmylove.Summary: What drives you on | Can drive you mad | A million lies to sell yourself | Is all you ever had.
"You should get some actual friends," she said. She had one hand twisted in Nolan's hair, her opposite arm held belligerently across her belly, a leg thrown over his shoulder, heel digging into his back, and shoulders stiff against his four-hundred-count sheets. Her voice, however, was sweet, faintly concerned, gentle. Pitch-perfect Emily Thorne.
Since Nolan was a very smart man, his reaction was to raise his head from between her thighs and look concerned for a minute, before a smug, smile crawled across his face. "Awww, am I worrying you?" He turned his head, scrapped teeth across her inner thigh. "Am I a bit too impregnable for your liking?"
Her grip on his hair tightened. She sat up, pulling his head towards hers.
"Anyone's life can be destroyed," she breathed, their mouths so close she could taste herself on his lips. "Anyone's."
"You'd know that better than I would," Nolan agreed. He fingered her, her flesh so sensitive that she actually cried out just from the brush of his thumb, and writhed embarrassingly when he circled her clit with a forefinger. Nolan's face went blank as she moved, as she came. He had to clear his throat twice before he could continue. "I'd tell you what my fatal weakness is," he said as Emily flopped back, pushed damp curls off his forehead. "But you're a clever girl – I wouldn't want to take away the fun of you figuring it out for yourself."
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