Ficlet: Never
Sep. 17th, 2009 07:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinitydayTitle: Never
Fandom: Dark Angel
Pairing: Max/Alec
Word Count: 267
Written for:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
comment_fic, death_of_dreams's prompt, Max/Alec, She never thinks about Alec during heat
Max never thinks about Alec when she’s in heat.
She doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night with his name on her lips because heat dreams are about sweat and sex. It’s the cocks that are important in them, not the faces that are attached to them. She wouldn’t think about him when she’s fingering herself in the shower, since masturbation was decidedly not part of the cold shower regime OC prescribed when she learned about Max’s condition.
When she’s alone in the apartment, she certainly never imagines Alec kneeling between her legs, blowing on her clit before fucking her with his tongue. Her hips don’t jump at the thought of him working a finger up her ass. She never closes her eyes and pretends it’s his fingers instead of hers pinching her nipple and rolling it between her fingers.
Max has witnessed Alec hook up with a disgusting number of girls with cheesy pickup lines. She doesn’t think he would be better at sex talk, whispering all sorts of dirty things into her ear while driving into her, his transgenic strength satisfying her more than a pure human ever could. The idea of him ordering her around, telling her to bend over, spread her legs, suck harder, touch herself, doesn’t make her come.
She doesn’t need to stop herself from going to him for release. That idea is too foreign to even cross her mind.
Her body might betray her when her heat sneaks up on her, but her mind doesn’t as well. Heat is about Max’s base urges. It’s purely physical.
Nothing more.
Fandom: Dark Angel
Pairing: Max/Alec
Word Count: 267
Written for:
comment_fic, death_of_dreams's prompt, Max/Alec, She never thinks about Alec during heatMax never thinks about Alec when she’s in heat.
She doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night with his name on her lips because heat dreams are about sweat and sex. It’s the cocks that are important in them, not the faces that are attached to them. She wouldn’t think about him when she’s fingering herself in the shower, since masturbation was decidedly not part of the cold shower regime OC prescribed when she learned about Max’s condition.
When she’s alone in the apartment, she certainly never imagines Alec kneeling between her legs, blowing on her clit before fucking her with his tongue. Her hips don’t jump at the thought of him working a finger up her ass. She never closes her eyes and pretends it’s his fingers instead of hers pinching her nipple and rolling it between her fingers.
Max has witnessed Alec hook up with a disgusting number of girls with cheesy pickup lines. She doesn’t think he would be better at sex talk, whispering all sorts of dirty things into her ear while driving into her, his transgenic strength satisfying her more than a pure human ever could. The idea of him ordering her around, telling her to bend over, spread her legs, suck harder, touch herself, doesn’t make her come.
She doesn’t need to stop herself from going to him for release. That idea is too foreign to even cross her mind.
Her body might betray her when her heat sneaks up on her, but her mind doesn’t as well. Heat is about Max’s base urges. It’s purely physical.
Nothing more.