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.

Comments

[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."