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

[cold_n_calculating]

Leonard is under no delusions that he holds any say in this relationship, or whatever it is that they are doing, at all. He gets to fuck Sara because Sara lets him do so. He gets to push her into the wall and kiss her and let her stroke his cock while he works to get her pants opened enough so he can return the favor of sliding his fingers along her slit looking for her clit because she lets him do it.

She takes what she wants when she wants it whether it's him fucking her or her strapping on a dildo and reaming him out till he's screaming and pleading for her to stop. Not that she does. He'll take what she gives him and be grateful for it.

"Hmm, do you want to go back for it? Get it mounted and stuffed and display it for everyone to see?" He asks before taking another deep kiss. Her hand on his cock has it rising to the occasion quickly.

[strongerthanyouknow]

The thing is, she does like him.

Maybe at least as much as she's liked anyone.

Short of Damien. Or Amaya. She'd have been glad to shove a sword through Thawne, and Merlyn, at the earliest occasion of granted merit, and Leonard's partner. Well. There was something...off...about that one. Something that itched right under her skin every time she looked at him. Even in the middle of a job. Something that came off wrong. She didn't question his loyalty, foot soldier style. But there was something else to it. Something mercurial to him; he was all blunt force, but something in those eyes, even then... soft.

And Leonard wasn't. He was hard -- hard in hand; hard on the job, hard eyes and hard hands -- and cold.

And, besides, she wouldn't come back if she didn't. There were toys a plenty to find, and break, and discard, in this world. Under Darhk. He'd have granted her any of them. But probably not Leonard. Which was something. Taking that. Taking him. From Darhk. From his partner. From the world. From both their rules and right place. Which is somewhere in there when her shoulders dig into the unmovable wall with a moan as Leonard's fingers finally find the right spot and she grinds against them, and the wall, and his body not close enough with both of their hands between, in the too small space of her leather pants, already so wet and ready for him.

"I don't know," Sara swallows a breath against his kiss, a little more sharpness turning tease there. "I think I have other things to mount first."

[cold_n_calculating]

As much as he would never admit it aloud Leonard too has noticed Mick is not the same as he was before. Still he's glad to have him there, it just wouldn't be the same without him.

Of course when Sara makes her little teasing comment he has to smirk slightly and press closer. "Then perhaps you should lose some of these clothes first." He encourages even as he leans down and sucks a faint mark into her shoulder. His hands abandon trying to please her for the moment and instead begin working on her clothes in an effort to peel her out of them so he can get at all of the delicious parts of her.

[strongerthanyouknow]

It's a fair point, when all fairness that exists does so on the edge of her blade in this city, and that of the hand on her shoulder. Fairness is a term for the rabble, and the rabble were best suited to be in a pile of pieces on the ground under the toes of her boots. But Sara has to like that he doesn't help even after his castigating mark. At least not at first. His mouth goes back to her skin, and she finds herself still on her toes, still pushing into it, still running her hand up and down him slightly tight. At least until his hands manage to find her clothes.

"Details, details. I'm nowhere near as hard to get into as a bank vault."
And isn't that the blackest kind of lie. But she supposes she can be something like helpful.

For a few seconds. To her own benefit. Which this will all end up being, as it has always ended up being. So she helps, pushes herself slightly up from the wall, and him back with a hand, though not with enough force to send him back a few steps even. Enough only to find the inches shrug out of the jacket that she just lets fall on the ground as close to where the last wrist and hand she freed is. Leaving her shoulders and the top of her chest bared at least from the onslaught of black leather she lives in. Aside from the shoulder straps holding up her top. A smallest percentage of skin still.

With little need of direction, she reaches behind starting to undo the hard metal hooks in the corset up her lower spine, too.

[cold_n_calculating]

The thief holds no belief that the word fair exists in Sara Lance's vocabulary. She is favored, she is blessed with freedoms others are not allowed and yet even still they both know that should they be found out he would suffer the consequences, not her. He is with her because she wants him and he's not about to complain about it. He likes that they're taking something from the 'powers that be'. He likes that they are stealing each other and indulging in their basal desires behind closed doors.

When her coat falls to the floor his mouth descends to the top of her bared breast letting his tongue trail over soft skin. No bra, once the corset is gone her breasts are his to enjoy. He cups her chest and brings his mouth to her left nipple flicking it with his tongue before sucking on it just how she likes. His eyes track her face watching her reactions and gauging how she enjoys his ministrations. He's always watching her in order to make sure she's pleased because her pleasure is honestly his pleasure. He gets off hardest knowing he's sated and exhausted her. On knowing she's pleased and thrumming with enjoyment and pleasure.

[strongerthanyouknow]

The corset goes with the rest. She doesn't care where. She won't care where it fell when she's retrieving it later either. There's no other thought in her head first when Leonard's hands are finally on more of her bare skin, and it's not the impression of them, the force or hardness of a grip felt through layers of leather between herself and it. An armor that is so much more a trick of shadows, given she could kill the man before her with her bare hands in several ways without blinking without any piece of them on her.

There's a high in it, and a give. Something only he gets. Her. Like this.

Moaning softly and arching her body light from her toes, through her spine, when Leonard's mouth finds her nipple and he is doing one of the several things he truly does best in this room. Learning, and remembering. What it is she likes. Giving it to her before she has to ask for it. Then, taking it from her, before she can even think to demand. Knowing her. Her nipples only getting harder, and she lifts her own hand to reach up and squeeze her right breast at the same time as his mouth is working the left, rubbing hard over the other, even as her hips cant and the length of her ponytail brushes almost too soft across all the skin on her back.

Her other hand finding the back of his head, and when his eyes look up, it makes a faint smirk flicker to the edge of her mouth, because there are so many better uses for that mouth on her skin, and it only comes out as a single word. "Knees."

[cold_n_calculating]

Leonard pulls off of her nipple with a slight pop. Then still watching her face he slides down to his knees before her. With their heigh difference his face is rich fat her hip and lower abdomen and while he did kneel down his hands are still gripping her leather covered thighs. He wants to worship her. He wants to devour her. He wants to be devoured himself. No one fucks like Sara Lance.

He’s naked and hard and leaking slightly with arousal. He doesn’t like being given orders but from her he takes it. From her he likes it even.

If she lets him he will remove her boots his hands trailing over her leather covered legs with reverence and his moth pressing kisses to the pants. He’ll help her remove the pants too if she wants. Anything to get at her core. Anything to get his mouth on her and taste her. To driver her over the brink of orgasm with just his mouth.

[strongerthanyouknow]

She can't say she doesn't like it.

That one-second flicker of consideration, where she has to wonder if he'll deny her.

Question. Pushback. Make her make an example of not liking being told no. Maybe even pretend to beg like it isn't a threat all the same, because everything about Sara Lance is. A weapon with a pretty smile, a pair of blue eyes and long blonde hair. You couldn't paint death prettier. But, then, he goes, a mountain fallen on his knees, still tall enough he's more than half of her, staring up at her with hungry eyes, gripping her legs with promise, and that's just as good, too.

Which is some of the appeal of all of this, isn't it. All of it is good. All of the options. Everything about Leonard, all the jagged edges, all the forbidden things, all the things that are just a little different when its her, and when they're in this place together, and alone. The press of wills and the pass of flicking off the right. Just a little. Just at the edge. Fucking the rules, and each other. Just one more time, each time.

Maybe that's all part of what makes her smile even more, as she pulls her hair over her shoulder. A fall of blonde, straight and soft, just barely brushing the top of one breast, that she pulls at the end, and turns a little around one finger. Before raising an eyebrow at him, and swaying just enough to shift her weigh between her feet without truly moving more than half an inch either way under the grip of his hands. "Well?"

[cold_n_calculating]

“Well what? If you’re going to give me orders give them otherwise let me do as I please you ungrateful woman.” Leonard says with a mean smirk before biting her left hip hard enough to leave a mark. He might do as she says but he’s no pushover. He gives as good as he takes.

He’s taking a gamble talking to her like that. Sara is a like a lioness. Beautiful. Powerful. But you don’t pet it. You don’t get close to it. Leonard is as close as you can get.

With her now as naked as him and providing she gives no instructions or ‘punishment ‘ for how he spoke he will lift a leg over shoulder to open her up. Then he leans forward and licks her from her entrance to her clit before taking the small bus into his mouth and worrying it with his tongue.

[strongerthanyouknow]

Sara laughs. Laughs.

It's a high, almost sweet thing, except for its razor edge of it.

Like she's absolutely delighted, like she won something by getting under his skin first, teeth biting into the center of her bottom lip, hands coming up, for her fingers to weave together, at an angle in the air, weight shifting to one side, about to saying something that never comes, because she never sees it coming, until Leonard jerks forward and a sudden as being punched, a spasm of pain runs through her body, glorious as the fucking sun, and Sara nearly loses her footing in how hard she shudders in reaction to it.

One foot half turning to catch herself with those lightning fast reflexes, hands falling on to his head to grip with nails unrestrained, when he's already shifting her, sliding into her, slightly under her, even with the height difference, and the pain turns into something else entirely that makes her moan in surprise, even as the pain is still there, still throbbing at her hip, still snapping, crackingly, popping in her veins, even as his tongue turns everything into heat, and she's gasping.

"I knew I liked you for some reason."

Maybe like all of the last three.

[cold_n_calculating]

Len knows when Sara Lance laughs you should probably prepare for pain. But luckily it looks like he surprised her enough with the bite that she didn’t hurt him.

He groans when her finger nails dig into his head and back. The little sting of pain makes his cock twitch. He continues to eat her out a finger loving up to slip inside of her another groan escaping at the wetness he finds.

He pulls back after a moment and stands up looking down at her. He picks her up and pushes her against the wall as he rocks his cock against her. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t wait. He presses inside of her hard in one smooth thrust bottoming out with the heady smack of flesh on flesh. He doesn’t intend to be gentle. He intends to fuck her brains out.

[strongerthanyouknow]

She's not all that surprised to get picked up, or when the sudden bulwark of the wall slams into her. Shoulder blades and hips, and spine. Hand already sliding up to the back of his neck and if she has to scale him like a god damn mountain she will. Again. Dozens of times. Maybe even just to prove that every time she can. That every newest time will give him a reason to always want her to come back the next. That every once will drown out every other passing footnote he might get off to. Or with.

When it's just easier to wrap herself around him, cross her ankles, to give in the indecency of gravity, of her own body weight, and the violent slam of his cock into her body. The base of her spine slamming the wall with the force of it, even as she grabbed the back of his head, all strong fingertips, and sharp nails, demanding his mouth, and kissed him hard. The rest of it already a song she knows. The roll of her hips and the speed that knew nothing about limits or breaks.

[cold_n_calculating]

Leonard has no intention of straying from the goddess in his arms. She's a creature demanding to be worshiped and he has no problem splaying himself at her alter to be devoured. A grunt leaves him as the force of their coupling combined with the intensity of their kisses leaves him gasping for air against her lips. Fuck she's a force of nature and he wants nothing more than to survive.

He spins them slightly, setting her down on a table beside where they were standing and angling her hips up slightly so he can really pound her like she enjoys. After all this time he knows the best angle to fuck her with, he knows how to touch her to make her sing and he knows just where to bite on her neck to make her come. He exploits them all wanting to feel her clenching around his cock in pleasure.

[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."