Bad Idea

This quick little one-shot was inspired by an audio done by the amazing Endless_Roads, and is a bit of a gift to him because, to be honest, it's helped to pull me out of my writing funk. So, many thanks for that. *all the heart eyes*

Also, a little self-indulgence...

For the rest of my followers, 'Meara and Oakley' is done. For now, at least. I realize that it ends at a weird and...unfulfilled place, but it's just not in me anymore. I may pick it up somewhere down the line. But, for now, it's gonna stand as a completed work.

Thanks in advance for all the love and comments and messages and support. They DO give me life.

~E~

******

"I forgot something," he says absently, closing the cupboard door before turning and looking around the kitchen.

He's not normally the type to forget things - he does the grocery runs because she *is* the type, and has openly admitted to being 'scatterbrained' on several occasions, especially when things don't come together as they've initially planned. However, this time, he's certain he's forgotten something, though, for the life of him, he can't put his finger on what that thing might be.

"What are you mumblin' about?"

She comes swaying into the kitchen then and, for a moment, his gaze is drawn to the shape of her hips in her form-fitting khaki shorts. Her smooth and chestnut-hued legs. Her bare feet, the toenails painted a bright, metallic blue.

He licks his lips and reaches out to graze a hand down the line of her back as she passes him, heading to the fridge.

"Nothing," he replies. Watches her shift things about on the refrigerator shelves, taking note of all the recently purchased goodies, no doubt. "I think I forgot something, but I can't figure out what it is."

Her dark eyes flash up to him, glinting faintly in the mid-day sunlight spilling through the wide kitchen windows. Her glasses, black and chunky and adorably far too big for her face, sit precariously on the tip of her nose. "You... forgot something? You gettin' sick?"

The sound his hand makes when it connects with her ass is loud and gratifying, and he smiles when she rubs her cheek through her shorts, a playful pout on her full lips.

"Smart ass. Even I can't be perfect all the time, you know."

She gives him her usual smile, lips parted and the tip of her tongue pressed to a sharp eye tooth, and that flash of pink tugs at the back of his brain. Tickles. Prods at it.

He's forgotten something. Something important. He can't figure out just then what it could be.

They move through the rest of their day. Retreat to separate corners of the house to work on their own respective projects. There's music and intermittent text messages to share memes or to playfully argue over whose turn it is to make dinner, though they both know who will end up cooking.

Later in the evening, when the house is filled with quickly fading rose-gold light, they meet up in the kitchen. She takes over. Yes, she's often flighty and forgetful but, in the kitchen, she's laser-focused, and he spends most of his time watching her from the corner of his eye, wanting to push her glasses back up to their proper place on the bridge of her nose whenever they slip down.

"Taste," she orders, holding a wooden spoon out to him, the thin fingers of her other hand cupped under it as she moves toward him.

He blows on the still steaming red sauce before closing his lips around the spoon, humming low and nodding his approval. It has always amazed him how she can make the same dish a hundred times over, and the same dish never tastes the same as the times before.

"'S good," he replies. "Real good." Licks his lips again, heat flaring faintly at the center of his chest when she smiles her smile at him, big and bright, tongue pressed to that sharp eye tooth.

Dinner is easy and enjoyable. Her feet in his lap beneath the table remind him again of that something he's forgotten, however what that particular thing is still stays at the edges of his awareness, hovering and annoyingly persistent. There's a word sitting on the tip of his tongue. He mentally reaches for it and nearly has it. But, just as quickly, it's gone, drifting away like smoke on the night air. He tells himself it'll come to him, that it must not have been such a big deal if it had slipped his mind so easily.

However, later, when they're curled up on the couch, his hand down the front of her shorts, fingers slipping over her slick heat and her soft moans in his ear, he remembers. Pulls back sharply and stares down at her.

"What?" she queries and he notes the ruddy fullness of her lower lip, darker now because of his kisses.

"Condoms," he replies. "I forgot the condoms."

She does a sort of slow blink, her hips shifting, and his brain stutters a bit when the movement causes the tips of two fingers to sink shallowly inside her.

"You're kidding, right?" Her voice is low, slightly slurred in the way it gets when she's turned on and ready.

He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, the heat pulsing beneath his skin now more from embarrassment than arousal. He never forgets things. Never forgets about *this* particular thing. It's a pretty fucking important thing.

"I can run out and get some," he offers. "Be back before you know it."

She huffs out an irritated breath. Pouts even as her hips perform another slow wind. "You know neither one of us will be in the mood by the time you come back."

Of course she's right. This is not the first time they've been in this position.

He leans down and kisses her cheek. Ghosts his lips up the line of her jaw and to the shell of her ear. She smells so soft and warm, like almonds and something else, something darker and intriguing that's entirely her own.

"I'm sorry, darlin'," he says, both hopeful and contrite, fingers moving again, slowly circling her core, his blood shifting in his veins. His cock is still rock hard and he presses it against her hip. Slips a single digit inside her down to the second knuckle. She tightens around him eagerly, all hot and sticky, and he moans into her skin.

Ok. Bad idea. She's only just re-started her birth control after a nearly year long break, and the risks are still just a little too high for either of their liking. But, fuuuuck, to be inside her like that again. Bare and hard and feeling every bit of her tight cunt squeezing him, milking him. Feeling her slick dripping down his shaft and over his balls...

"Baby," she whines, pleads, her hand coming down to close around his wrist, clinging, though not stopping him.

One of them should be the rational party here, right? One of them should make the executive decision. He nearly does, but her hand is suddenly there, cupping him through the loose fabric of his shorts, and his brain kicks and knocks, a frisson of longing dancing across his shoulders and down his spine.

He pulls his own hand away and clamps it over her hip. Speaks in a rough, shaky tone he'd had every intention of being firm, "Okay, babe. Bad idea. We can't."

Her dark eyes are sparking in the low light, her hand working him over slow and sweet and it's *such* a bad fucking idea...

"Just a little?" she murmurs, and he swallows around the rough pounding of his heart, which is somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. "Just a little..." she prods. Curls her fingers tighter around him, pulling a stilted, almost pained moan from him.

Desire wells up inside him, sharp and vibrating. It makes his skin feel overly hot. Causes moisture to gather at the tip of his tongue.

He watches silently as she moves and shifts and works her shorts and panties down her lean, brown legs, her eyes a little wider now and breath coming a little faster. His pulse is throbbing in his cock. Dammit, she wants this and it's doing nothing to help his resolve.

She moves over him. Gives him enough room to work his own shorts down his thighs. He settles on his back. Allows her to straddle him, one knee digging into the couch cushions beside his hip and her other foot planted on the floor for balance.

"Baby, this is such a bad idea," he says around a nervous laugh, and maybe it's just for the sake of saying it because, yes, he wants it, too. Really fucking wants it. Wants to feel her wrapped tight around him. Wants to feel her riding his bare cock.

"Just a little bit, baby," she assures him.

His whole body jerks when she takes him in her hand. Strokes him slow and smooth as she lines the head of his cock with her dripping center. She holds him there, parting her folds and setting him at her opening, and his hands come down on her hips.

Fuck.

"Just a little, baby," he concedes, and digs his fingers into her hips as she begins to sink down on him.

His breath catches, then releases sharply, his eyes rolling back when the head of his cock breaches her walls. The tension in her from holding herself steady over him makes her tighter than usual and, God, she's wet, so fucking wet and hot around him. Almost scorching.

When she's completely seated, he holds her there, feels her fluttering around him, listens as her breath comes and goes in shuddering inhales and exhales. She feels it, too. Feels the excitement and need created without a flimsy bit of material separating them.

He opens his eyes. Watches her. Takes note of the thin sheen of sweat starting to pop out over her dark skin and the furrow of her thin brows.

"Fuck," she whimpers, slicking her tongue over bottom lip.

His hands begin to move her, rocking her back and forth over him, giving her that extra bit of friction that always makes her whine for him. It feels so good already, so fucking good, and he doesn't know how long he'll last like this. But, he wants to feel her creaming around him before it's too late and he can't pull out. He doesn't remember it feeling this good before. It echoes through him, this aching bit of pleasure. This hard-edged and deeply hungry thing. It tightens inside his chest and shivers through his balls.

She's so hot and wet around him. Hot and wet and gripping him so fucking tight that it causes the air to back up in his lungs. It pulls low, greedy sounds from somewhere deep inside his chest.

He knows he's a goner when she leans over him and braces her hands on the armrest above his head. She uses it as leverage to move over him, rocking still, however, this time, fucking him, fucking herself on his cock, working her hips in the way she knows always drives him insane. The light in her eyes is sharp and fierce, and she's moaning as well, a high-pitched sound full of want and desperation, and it's tugging him closer and closer to the edge, much faster than he'd like or intended.

"Baby, you have to stop," he manages to croak out. "This is a bad idea. You're gonna make me cum."

He thinks she smiles, just a quick quirk of her lips as she continues riding him, bouncing on his dick, squeezing him tight, pulling him deep and deeper still. His fingers tighten over her hips. He could move her. Lift her. Stop this before it's too late...

He can't. Can't bring himself to put an end to the pleasure sizzling up his spine and swirling in hot reds at the base of his skull.

It's a bad idea, continuing like this, unprotected. Risky. Yet, so fucking perfect.

"Fuck it. Fuck me. Make me cum," he growls. "Make me cum inside you."

He reaches up. Clamps a hand around the back of her neck and pulls her down to him. Kisses her rough and hungry as she continues to bounce on his aching cock.

His words seem to spur her on because she bounces faster, harder, moaning louder now, the sound a near whine, and his own sounds mingle with hers. Harsh grunts and rumbling growls, and he knows the press of his fingers are going to leave bruises on her skin, but he doesn't care. He'll apologize for it tomorrow. For now, he needs this, needs to feel her raw and close and needy.

"You want this, don't you," he urges, knows the power of his voice to push her over that jagged edge, and he's not disappointed. Her rhythm falters and he takes over, fucking up into her, driving deep and hard, moving in tandem with her deliciously snaking, winding, grinding hips. "You want my cum, don't you?"

She groans in response, top teeth sinking into her bottom lip, brow furrowed and cunt squeezing even tighter around him.

He growls at her. "Then fucking take it. Make me cum inside you. Make me fill up that greedy little pussy."

That does it. His voice, his words, shove her over, and she lets out a high wail, her body tensing over him, her cunt gripping at him even as he continues fucking her, shoving deep, working against the tight, slick heat, the desire to fill her up all he can see now. He looks down. Sees his bare cock spearing into her hot pink center, and it's so perfect, so fucking beautiful. The sight yanks him to the edge, has him grunting and straining as he pulls her down over and over.

She's so hot. So wet.

So...fucking...tight...

His orgasm takes him by surprise. It rushes over him, crashes through his veins, and he slams himself deep one last time, holds himself there as he fills up her clenching, hungry little cunt. And she takes it, takes all of him, whimpering and shuddering. Slumps over him even as he continues pumping inside her.

Long moments pass, long moments filled with their panted breaths and roughly beating hearts. He can feel hers through the thin fabric of their shirts and he curls an arm over her back to keep her close.

Bad idea. Such a bad idea. But... not really so bad inside this short bit of time with her held tightly to him, trembling against him, her breath fanning against the skin on the side of his neck.

He's tingling and sort of light-headed, and the smell of their sex fills the space around them.

"By the way," he teases around a laugh, voice low and a very much breathless. Satisfied. "Tomorrow? Remind me to forget to buy condoms again."