![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urbancateTitle: Beer and Other Awesome Things in the Shower
Pairing: Karl/OFC
Rating: R
Length: ~600 words
Summary: Karl. Naked Karl. In the shower. That's all you need to know.
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
izzyfics blatant Cate-baiting rpf prompt (Karl/OFC - back at his place, in the shower, pinned by the wrists against the wall, after a sweaty workout at the gym) at the Tie Dr. McCoy To All Things Comment Fic-a-Thon
He runs. On the treadmill, he runs. And maybe it’s Queen playing on his iPod, but whatever, he hates running, and classic rock - we are the champions, I am the fucking champion - does the trick, and he does the required miles at the appropriate pace for getting neither too ripped or too flabby. It’s a fine line, right. He’d rather be surfing or banging back a beer, but this is the L.A. thing.
He hates locker room showers, however discreet the reputations, so he drives back to the apartment sweaty and uncomfortable and dying for some cool water or maybe a beer, but definitely a shower. It’s a grand, ocean-color-tiled wonder, the shower big enough to hold a party in. It will ruin all that good running, but he pops the top off a bottle as he strips on his way to the shower, anyway. The rooms are empty, because she’s still at her own gym with her own workout, probably punching the stuff out of someone or something.
He’s been standing under the pressured-water spray for he doesn’t know how long, when the wide glass door opens just enough to let her slide in.
She commandeers the bottle and takes a swig, “Undoing all that effort?”
“A man’s gotta live.”
“Is that so?” She smirks up at him, stepping into the spray, stepping into his space, not that he minds the least bit, and she takes another swig before leaning over to the door and depositing the bottle outside on the floor and damn but it’s a fine view she gives him right there.
“Yeah, among other things,” he replies as he cups her ass, pulling her skin-to-skin close.
“I’m just trying to take a shower, here.”
“So was I.”
“Plans change,” she shrugs and he can’t help it, can’t help himself, he just has to lick at the hollow between neck and collarbone the motion creates. She tips her head back and the water hits his shoulders as he bends to his exploration of all those delicate curves. Her fingers dig into his back and he kisses a slow path to her mouth, teasing.
“Oh, just shut up and kiss me, already.” Her breath is warm, honey, invitation.
“Me? I wasn’t saying anything,” he says against her lips, lets the last word get swallowed on her tongue.
It’s like being sixteen again, only a million times better, kissing in earnest, kissing for the sheer hot loveliness of her mouth. Until their hands join the game and he’s thumbing her nipples and she’s teasing her fingers across the tops of this thighs.
Then she takes him in hand and he groans into her mouth. It happens every time - she reduces him to wordlessness like this. He’s ready to lift her up and slide home, dying for her wet heat, when she grabs his wrists and pushes him back against the tile. A reversal he’s not going to complain about, not at all, because oh fuck she’s kneeling in front of him even as her hands keep him pinned to the wall and he’s watching her mouth and feeling that mouth on him and, yeah, totally incoherent. She takes and gives and he takes it, lets the wall hold him up as her mouth breaks him apart into little pieces and puts him back together again.
The water is running cold by now and he barely notices. One of them turns off the spray before they tumble - tangled and needy - out of the shower and to the bed in the next room. It’s too bad, really, but they’ll have to take another shower soon.
Pairing: Karl/OFC
Rating: R
Length: ~600 words
Summary: Karl. Naked Karl. In the shower. That's all you need to know.
Notes: Written for
izzyfics blatant Cate-baiting rpf prompt (Karl/OFC - back at his place, in the shower, pinned by the wrists against the wall, after a sweaty workout at the gym) at the Tie Dr. McCoy To All Things Comment Fic-a-ThonHe runs. On the treadmill, he runs. And maybe it’s Queen playing on his iPod, but whatever, he hates running, and classic rock - we are the champions, I am the fucking champion - does the trick, and he does the required miles at the appropriate pace for getting neither too ripped or too flabby. It’s a fine line, right. He’d rather be surfing or banging back a beer, but this is the L.A. thing.
He hates locker room showers, however discreet the reputations, so he drives back to the apartment sweaty and uncomfortable and dying for some cool water or maybe a beer, but definitely a shower. It’s a grand, ocean-color-tiled wonder, the shower big enough to hold a party in. It will ruin all that good running, but he pops the top off a bottle as he strips on his way to the shower, anyway. The rooms are empty, because she’s still at her own gym with her own workout, probably punching the stuff out of someone or something.
He’s been standing under the pressured-water spray for he doesn’t know how long, when the wide glass door opens just enough to let her slide in.
She commandeers the bottle and takes a swig, “Undoing all that effort?”
“A man’s gotta live.”
“Is that so?” She smirks up at him, stepping into the spray, stepping into his space, not that he minds the least bit, and she takes another swig before leaning over to the door and depositing the bottle outside on the floor and damn but it’s a fine view she gives him right there.
“Yeah, among other things,” he replies as he cups her ass, pulling her skin-to-skin close.
“I’m just trying to take a shower, here.”
“So was I.”
“Plans change,” she shrugs and he can’t help it, can’t help himself, he just has to lick at the hollow between neck and collarbone the motion creates. She tips her head back and the water hits his shoulders as he bends to his exploration of all those delicate curves. Her fingers dig into his back and he kisses a slow path to her mouth, teasing.
“Oh, just shut up and kiss me, already.” Her breath is warm, honey, invitation.
“Me? I wasn’t saying anything,” he says against her lips, lets the last word get swallowed on her tongue.
It’s like being sixteen again, only a million times better, kissing in earnest, kissing for the sheer hot loveliness of her mouth. Until their hands join the game and he’s thumbing her nipples and she’s teasing her fingers across the tops of this thighs.
Then she takes him in hand and he groans into her mouth. It happens every time - she reduces him to wordlessness like this. He’s ready to lift her up and slide home, dying for her wet heat, when she grabs his wrists and pushes him back against the tile. A reversal he’s not going to complain about, not at all, because oh fuck she’s kneeling in front of him even as her hands keep him pinned to the wall and he’s watching her mouth and feeling that mouth on him and, yeah, totally incoherent. She takes and gives and he takes it, lets the wall hold him up as her mouth breaks him apart into little pieces and puts him back together again.
The water is running cold by now and he barely notices. One of them turns off the spray before they tumble - tangled and needy - out of the shower and to the bed in the next room. It’s too bad, really, but they’ll have to take another shower soon.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-09-13 11:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-15 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-15 09:11 am (UTC)