PSL locked with Strongerthanyouknow

[cold_n_calculating]

Dark. Hero Free. Perfect. That's how Leonard would describe the current situation he's in. He might not like working with Thawne and his gang but he has Mick and he has his city to pilfer and plunder and while he might slightly miss the man in Scarlet he's having way too much fun to care about it. He's glad they picked him up and recruited him for this mission. It's a hell of a lot more fun than small heists any day.

It's late and everyone's busy doing their own things now as he makes his way towards his bedroom. He opens the door and steps inside shutting and locking it behind him. He takes off his coat and makes his way towards his couch. Sara's due by at some point tonight and he's thinking he might like a shower before she gets arrives.

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[strongerthanyouknow]

There is no one else who gets to do this. No one who gets to pick her up, and shove her in walls, and drop her on to tables, and just mercilessly begin to pound into her. Like she's something to be taken. Used. Abused. Like the hands that scrabble for the edges of the table, to grab it white knuckles, heels hard on his back, aren't the same hands that could just as easily reach up and snap his neck all the while still smiling, while he was still inside her. And fuck if she doesn't get off a bit on that, too.

The daring. The demeaning. Bruising hands, and hard fucking, and that look like he. Just. Can.

It's brutal, violent, angry, and arrogant, and fun. When her body is writhing on the table, and her nails are digging furrows down his back at every slam of his cock, with a lack of restraint Sara Lance only pretends to have sometimes under orders, while he bites into her skin and she shudders so hard, the movement of her hips pistoning out of her control, only wanting more, only wanting this. Only wanting everything this is every god damned fucking time. Leonard. Leonard, and this. This thing, only he gives her.

[cold_n_calculating]

Len knows she could go all black widow on him or preying mantis and kill him while they fuck. He knows she wouldn't even bat an eyelash at doing it so long as she was satisfied with either death or orgasm in the end. Maybe both. Likely both.

Still, the feeling of her around him, against him was always enough for him to do it anyway. Plus the thrill of taking something Darhk considered his and 'defiling'it had it's perks too.

"So damn good." He mumbles against her skin as he rocks against her hard. He wants her sated, he wants to know he did that to her. That he exhausted her enough to fall asleep beside him. That he made her come. Him. Leonard Snart. He made such a powerful woman just that..a woman for a moment.

[strongerthanyouknow]

His words get something that bubbles up like it meant to be a laugh, but it's still shattering against the constant slamming of his cock and the table. When it's so perfect in her ears, and she never ever gets tired of hearing it. How much he wants her. How much he loves it, even when it's all sharp edges and violent relentlessness. Which is another thing she likes so much about all of it. The relentlessness. Like going to war. Refusing to give.

Though sometimes she did break him of that. Just to prove she could.

That she loved to hear him scream and beg, and that he'd still want her back even more for it.

Pleasure and pain. Spiraled. Spiked. Addictive. Nothing like it. The secret and all the dirty, perfect truths that came with. All of it getting brighter, hotter, sharper every time. Her heels digging into his lower back, hips pumping just as hard upward, to meet every single thrust. Where she was bound to be bruised for days. But she can't stop. Won't. Like it can't come hard enough, can't come fast enough, she can't even think beyond the need for it. For him. For more. "Don't stop."

A demand that would sound more like one if she had more air. If it wasn't leaving her. Not that he will. Not that he doesn't know better. Not that she wouldn't just kick out his feet and his balance, shove him down on the floor and ride him straight through it, if she had to. This close. This close. When her head is rolling back against the table, and her ponytail is far more a disaster than it is that, and she can feel it crawling up her spine. In the arch of her shoulders, rolling down her spine, making her arch from the table, into him, only more into him, while digging down against the wood. The threat and the promise of it all being a breath away.

[cold_n_calculating]

Leonard growls and pulls out of her. He encourages her to stand up and lean forward over the table so he can fuck her from behind. If she lets him he places one hand on her hip and the other cupping a breast, fingers teasing her nipple with little mercy, as his hips piston in and out of her as hard a she can move. The cacophony of their skin slapping together is perfect harmony with the moans leaving him as the pleasure intensifies. She's so good, so tight, so hot.

He shifts again leaving her nipple and instead wrapping her pony tail around his fist and really letting her have it. "Wanna feel you fucking come."

[strongerthanyouknow]

There is a flash of something dangerously brittle and somewhere closer to feral than not in the fact he does stop. Even for the pass of fucking few seconds. Right after being told not to. When the ground drops out back to solidity and she has to move, while her body tips toward an instantaneous, deeper than deep training, for the equilibrium she had almost lost. Even if all he does is turn her around, and put himself right back at it. Starts slamming into her again, dragging moaning gasps out of her, and forcing her to her toes, to find purchase, white-knuckled and so much easier, to use all the force of her body this way.

When it remembers it wants to move at all. Fingers bruising hard on her nipple, and then in her hair. Pulling hard and fastback, pain a ricochette across her scalp, her spine trying to slam something like straight, even when she has to follow the arch of his grip backward, ever flexible, between even slap of skin and how every single slam feels like he might actually be trying to tear her in half, and all that's left is how much she wants it, wants this, wants him.

Beyond the point of disaster and thought, when wordless sounds are starting to fall out of her lips with each one. Desperate and close and torn between wanting to ride the razor edge of threatening, beckoning red of all pain and pleasure slammed together, the only second perfect madness she ever wants. But there's no stop in sight, and she might just as much kill him if there was, again, and she can feel it as keeps tipping, past it. Every slam, every slap of skin, until she can't even breathe, like it's key too high for laughter or singing or body parts or sanity.

Before her body starts shaking, and she is, she is, she is, even as he's still fucking into her like she's just there to be used, and maybe it doesn't matter if she already is, and she can feel everything, everything losing solidity, like her own weight might not stay on her feet, or the table, and she might not have any at all. Her whole body pulsing as wave after wave slams into her, white-hot and perfect, blistering hard, muscles clenching around his cock as her breath returned in small gasps as her lungs demanded air.

[cold_n_calculating]

Leonard forces her body into a beautiful arch even as he slams his hips into hers with no mercy at all. The sounds she's making only serve to spur him on and work her towards that crescendo and over the edge of oblivion.

When she does come and her pulsing, clenching core tightens around his thrusting shaft it's all he can do to hold on until he's sure she's finished. Only then does he let out a growl of need, teeth sinking into her shoulder as his own orgasm rushes through him and he floods her with his seed.

He stands there for a moment trying to regain both his breath and his senses before slowly pulling out. He attempts to turn her around and help her back onto the table before dropping to his knees to clean her up. It's one of his kinks knowing he's marked her inside and then cleaned up all the outward evidence of such an act. Also he just really likes going down on her.

[strongerthanyouknow]

It's fucking perfect. Literally. A thought that nearly makes her laugh, until she gasping as pain spasms her body almost directly into another orgasm when Leonard bites her shoulder, burying his face there, against her skin, into her as he starts coming, bleeding viciousness and release in a blur she chooses to let linger in her system. An ocean of all of those things blurred, and blended, hot and warm in her veins when she actually gives him something of a slow smile when he turns her around this time.

Watching him fall back to his knees as her ass is just barely resting on the table. His tongue already on her, inside of her, continuing to hit all of those nerves that have passed so far past sensitive to almost be electric, causing her to slightly squirm. Snapping electric current twitching through her system, all sensation and warmth, when her hands catch on his head. Because this is habit enough for him, and she can let him have it, and take the win for a lesser lack of cleanup to go with it.

Let her hands catch on his head, the bristle of his short hair that she loves the sensation of against her palms especially in this second, after, when the world still swings just a little, if she lets it stay, as she's running her fingers through it, fingertips and nails down the back of his head, his throat, the solidness of his spine there and every other delicate, easily rent, piece of thin, fluttering skin beside it. A lazy movement, for all that it's still with a pressure enough to drag red lines right behind her nails, while her thighs shiver at his every stroke, and she says with rare soft, scatteredness, "Good boy."

[cold_n_calculating]

He knows its on the side of painful pleasure for her but he also knows she likes it. He'll keep eating her out until she asks him to stop because yeah, he's a 'good boy' like that. And he just also really does love eating her out.

He loves the way her soft thighs, powerful enough in their own right to kill him where he is, quiver and shiver around his head. He loves how her hands that could so easily dispatch him from the mortal plane dig into his scalp and leave red lines of stinging pleasure that pulls a twitch from his spent cock.

God this woman is amazing and he;s lucky as hell to get to have her in a way no one else gets too. When it's over they'll go their separate ways. Neither of them is a cuddler and both of them prefer to sleep alone...well he does at least. He's not 100% sure about her.

[strongerthanyouknow]

It snags and snaps, but she rides it. Him.

The pain that is her body trying to have an opinion. The warmth of his mouth, the feel of his tongue. The way all of it laces together and just makes her wetter. Just sends her hips arching into him slowly faster. Because he's dedicated, if nothing else, and it starts to drag small caught breaths from her, twisting a small burn of pain around every flicker of pleasure, and it's an addiction she can't deny. Doesn't try. Feeds on, and into.

Drives her to dig her fingers into his head slowly harder. Nails digging through skin, knuckles slowly whitening as her body writhes under the combination, like a small maddened storm under her skin. Refused and overtriggering. And it's not long this time, so close to the last time, until she is bucking against his mouth, and pinning him there between her hands, and her hips, and thigh, when she's coming again.

It's faster, and a little harder, but lighter on the end, too. Light enough she's cogent of her thoughts, of static crack still in her veins when she moves, to lift a leg and catch part of his chest, with the ball of her foot and her toes, to push him back with some force to it, even wet everywhere all over again, saying, "Enough."

[cold_n_calculating]

He sucks on her clit as she comes again and is not surprised at all when she physically pushes him away. He smirks at her, his mouth glistening with her wetness as he looks up into her face.

"Hmmm, whiskey?" He offers as he stands up and walks naked over to a small table adorned with bottles of various alcohols. He pours himself four fingers and then a glass for her if she wants it.

[strongerthanyouknow]

He's a mess, but it delightful look on him. It makes something viciously possessive and wantonly cruel in her chest curve into it, even as she watches him rise and walk away. Obedient, and uncomplaining, and maybe someday she'll let him push her limits, the way she can make him let her, but it's not entirely likely. Sara doesn't give up the power over herself to anyone but the Boss.

"Maybe one." Her voice already slipping back toward that edged almost sing-song, as she's already walking over to where he pulled off her pants and boots. Picking up the one, and starting to turn them back the correct direction. "But only. It's late, and the roaches do like to try and come out when its dark."

Especially on the nights when they have new dead they can't collect.

[cold_n_calculating]

He pushes her as it is, teases, nudges, but is always mindful that on a whim she could snap his neck. He's usually a bit more tactful in the bedroom because who the hell want's to die in the middle of sex?

He's not thinking about that though, right now he only has eyes for how debauched she looks and it makes his ego swell a little bit knowing he did that to her. He made the great Sara Lance look like a fucked out little whore. Well maybe not a whore, but still.

"You wanna head back out and see if we can put down a few more?" He asks handing her the tumbler.

[strongerthanyouknow]

Maybe she does. Wonder. About it. The vaguest, furthest, tiniest question of a possibility. It's in that look on his face, still, when he comes back, holding out the tumbler. That something that mixes hungry and pleased, that's like looking at a mirror. The way it drips arrogance in those icy eyes, without actually forsaking wariness. Like none of this actually quenches, even at absolutely had. It just drives it in deeper.

That want. The having, and having had. The stealing it. The if.
The promise this isn't over. Isn't anything like the last time.

Sara makes him hold the cup, without looking at it, or him, for long enough to actually pull the skin tight and then some leather pants back on. Before she takes the drink. No less certain and imperious dressed in darkness, undressed and disheveled, or headed back to pristine without so much as a thank you, than at any other time. When her mouth tilts a dark slash of a smirk. "Inviting yourself along, now?"

[cold_n_calculating]

Leonard is comfortable with his nakedness, at least around her. He sips his drink and watches her as she donnes her armor once again.

"Maybe." He smirks when she asks if he was inviting himself along. "Always up for a little mayhem and fun."