Any Port in a Storm

Time slows to a crawl as Lex teases her with featherlight touches and his mouth against her neck, teeth and nails both scraping against her skin but never quite hard enough to inflict pain. The noises she makes, little breathy moans and cut-off pleas, should be embarrassing, but she is past embarrassment.

All she is aware of is Lex's touch, and her need for more.

"Look at you." One hand drifts lower, nails running along Cameron's stomach, the inside of her thigh. "You've been soaking wet since I got started on your ass, haven't you? Always a slut for a little pain, aren't you, pet?" Murmured so softly in her ear, the word slut sounds loving, fond. "I bet I'd barely even need to touch you to get you off."

His fingers brush lightly over her clit and she recoil from the touch, as much as she can in the little space between their bodies. Lex isn't wrong; she's already so worked up that every touch feels a thousand times too intense. It wouldn't take much at all to push her over the edge... but that would be incredibly unsatisfying.

"But that's not what you want, is it?" Lex says, with almost eerily perfect timing. "You don't want to come until I've fucked you senseless." He leaves her clit alone, and she can feel him shifting behind her, his belt buckle smacking her ass with enough force to make her whine and arch away from him. "More senseless, anyway." And then, finally, Lex grabs her hips and sinks into her cunt in a single slow, deep thrust.

Surely nothing has ever felt as good as this.

If his pace is any indication, Lex is no less desperate than Cameron, simply better at hiding it. He fucks into her quick and deep, each thrust easily carrying enough force to knock her over were it not for Lex holding her upright. First by her hips, then, suddenly, by her throat, one hand squeezing just tight enough that she cannot ignore its presence. That possessive gesture cuts through the pleasant fog like nothing else has, and shoots straight to the desperate need building low in her belly.

"Please - please -" The words she needs won't come, and fresh tears prickle at her eyes from frustration and overwhelming pleasure both. But Lex, for once, is merciful.

"Gonna come for me, pet? Already?" He nips at her ear, the bright spark of skin catching between his teeth yet more fuel on the fire of her arousal. "Go ahead. Come."

Her orgasm is so intense she cannot breathe, let alone scream, as though her voice is trapped within her tightly contracting muscles. There is a faint awareness of blissful pain, Lex's teeth digging deep into the meat of her shoulder, but it barely registers as separate from the overwhelming wave of sensation that crashes over her. It drowns her, and she goes under willingly.

The first thing she regains awareness of is her own voice, a tiny, wrecked "thank you" pulled from the very last air in her lungs. Then teeth again, another bite just beside the first, and pressure and heat as Lex pushes impossibly deep inside her and chases her orgasm with his own.

Then - the sensation of falling, as Lex flops gracelessly down on the bed and pulls Cameron down with him.

Lex's shoulder makes an acceptable pillow for a minute or two, as Cameron catches her breath and regains command of her senses. When she struggles to sit up, too delightfully worn out to properly compensate for the restraints, he's at her back to support her and unbuckle the cuffs.

(The collar, though, he leaves alone. For just a little while longer.)

He leaves for a moment and returns with a cup of water, closing his hands around Cameron's to keep her from spilling when her hands start to shake. "How 'bout you stay put for a while," he suggests. "Sylvia'll kill me if your knees give out on you in the shower again--"

"That happened once." Her voice sounds very small, despite the emphasis she tries to put into it. She feels rather small, and arguing with Lex doesn't actually have that much appeal at the moment. "At least get me a towel."

Instead of getting her a towel, Lex takes it upon himself to clean her up, from the dried tears on her face to the slick mess between her thighs. Still very much in that compliant, floaty sort of headspace, Cameron finds herself far more inclined to let him fuss than to argue. Crawling across the bed to where Lex has pulled back the covers takes what little energy she has left, and she's glad for the opportunity to curl up around a pillow and let herself drift.

She is no less aware of her surroundings than she was to start with. As Lex tidies up, she can hear his footsteps in the other room, the washing machine starting, kibble clattering into the dog's bowl. It is simply much, much easier to let those noises wash over her, accepting them without becoming distracted by them. They become pleasant background murmur, a makeshift lullaby as Cameron, utterly sated, drifts off to sleep.