Work Text:
You've spent hours getting ready for the awards ceremony. Your hair is perfectly curled, your make-up flawlessly applied. Your dress clings to your body in all the right places.
Just as you move to grab your shoes, the door of your hotel room opens and Benedict walks in. Your breath catches at the sight of him in a fitted tux. He lets out a low wolf whistle at the sight of you, chuckling at your blush. Stalking towards you, he grins predatorily. "You look amazing."
You back away from him, well aware of where that look will lead. After slipping on your heels, you place your hands on your hips. "Oh no, you don't. It took forever to get me into this dress and we don't have time to do it again."
"Who says it has to come off, love?" He follows, expertly maneuvering you until you're pressed back against the long table placed against the wall. "I'm sure it's something we can work around."
You whimper quietly as he latches onto the tender spot behind your left ear, clutching at his jacket. A sharp nip causes your knees to give out slightly and he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. You can feel him against your belly. Still, you find the brain power to give him a firm warning. “You better not leave a mark.”
“Baby, would I do that to you?” His innocent smile is ruined by the devilish look in his colorful eyes.
You roll your eyes. Twisting your hips, you rub against him, and smile at his groan. “Careful, dear; we wouldn’t want anything to mess up your tux either.”
Pressure at your hips is your only warning as he picks you up and sets you on the table. He drops to his knees. He pushes your floor-length dress up slightly, hands running softly over your smooth skin. Picking up your right foot, he presses a gentle kiss to your ankle. He hands continue moving up, pulling the dress up with them. Once it’s at your waist, he lifts you up slightly and you move the material that was under you.
Dress now safely out of harm’s way, he wastes no time removing your lace panties, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder. Before you can protest at the rough treatment of your (expensive!) garments, his clever fingers are parting your folds, testing the wetness, short-circuiting your thought process. He stands up, and takes your mouth in a desperate, deep kiss.
As you kiss, the smell of him invades your senses. He smells clean and fresh, with an underlying scent of his cologne for the evening. The combination is enough to make your head spin. He pulls away from the kiss, catching your gaze with his. His eyes are hooded, pupils dilated. Only a thin ring of ever changing color is visible. His lips are red, swollen; his tongue slips out of his mouth, running over his bottom lip.
You suddenly can’t wait any longer.
You reach down to unbutton and unzip his pants, pushing the fabric down just enough for access. You rub him firmly through his briefs, causing his hips to jerk forward. Finally, you push the briefs out of your way, wrapping your hand around bare flesh, squeezing gently. His fingers are still inside you, and you unconsciously follow his rhythm. Lightly running your hand over the vein on the underside of his erection, you pull away, placing your hand around his wrist, silently telling him you desperately need more.
Your hands slide up his arms, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He pulls you forward on the desk to the edge. He nudges your legs open wider, hands on your thighs. He moves into the space between your legs, fitting perfectly. The fabric of his slacks and shirt rub against your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
The feel of him sliding into you, smoothly, without pause, forces a moan from your throat. You throw your head back, eyes slipping closed in pleasure. His hands tighten on your ass and hip. His grip holds you in place as he withdraws, pulls you towards him as he pushes back into your heat.
Each thrust is measured and strong, the rhythm even and quick. This isn’t about slow, tender love-making; this is about reaching completion together, and as soon as possible. It’s about consuming each other.
Your nails drag down his back, feeling the muscles shift beneath his white shirt. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, the points of your heels digging into him. He groans deeply when one hand slides into his hair. You feel his mouth at your neck, but you’re distracted by his hand sliding from your ass to your clit. His fingers press lightly there, the pressure maddening.
He moves up for a kiss, but it’s not the rough claiming you expect, the message he’s sending with hard thrusts and a bruising grip. Instead, lips cling softly. Coupled with the pressure on your clit, it’s enough to send you over the edge.
Distantly, you feel him follow you, feel him tense up in pleasure, feel him hold you closer.
Coming down from the high of an amazing orgasm, you press sloppy kisses to whatever skin you can reach. He pulls out carefully, and moans at your gripping inner muscles.
Finally stepping away, he fixes his pants and shirt. Glancing around the room, he looks for your panties, throwing you a wink when he finally finds them hanging off a lamp.
He helps you redress, making sure everything is in place. Setting you carefully back on your feet, he places his large, warm hands on your neck, thumbs running over your jaw line. “You look beautiful, love. Absolutely gorgeous, and I love that you’ll be by my side tonight.”
He leans forward to kiss you softly, once, twice.
Pulling away from one last kiss, you glance in the mirror. Checking to make sure that you look presentable, your eyes go wide at the large bruise on your collarbone. You catch his eyes in the mirror. His knowing grin says it all.
“Benedict!”