the ultracheese (Alex Turner fluff one-shots)

little dark age

The slow tune spinning on the record player has faded into the background, it's dark all around you, but your eyes are closed. The only sounds in focus are his breathing, shallow and shaky, and the sound of his lips on yours, the occasional interruption a moan he cannot hold back, raspy at the back of his throat, not unusually accompanied by his grip at the back of your head growing tighter to keep you where you are, impulsive, eager, desperate for more.

You'd been cold upon entering the living room, wrapped up in an old Monkeys jumper and a pair of leggings, but now the chill is gone, the closeness of his body, the warmth of his lips hopelessly soothing. He tastes like coffee and sugar, you know he's had a smoke, but it's been a few hours, and it's barely evident now. His lips are chapped, though the movement is soft, slow, his hand slips and he brushes his thumb over your jaw lovingly, breaks the kiss, his breath is shaky against your skin for a moment. You can barely follow his lead in catching your breath, his lips are already back on yours, a guttural moan and he parts your lips with his, his tongue touches yours and his other hand finds its way under your jumper, his palm warm against your bare skin, making you shiver and curve into him, shifting to move closer to him in his lap.

The rumble of thunder snaps you out of the daze he's eased you into and your eyes open automatically, you catch your breath, lightning follows and illuminates the room, your eyes have now gotten used to the darkness, but it still allows you to take in the features of his face, sinfully handsome and effortlessly so, his top lip is swollen, his cheeks and ears flushed, you've made a mess of his hair, tangled your fingers into the curled strands so you brush them through in an attempt to loosen the knots, a gentle tug making his lips part in a low moan, his breath still not quite regular.

His hand is spread out over your lower back to keep you as close as you are and you draw back only enough to press your lips to the edge of his jaw, sharp, though there is no tension, he relaxes when he feels your lips against his warm skin, instantly tilts his head to allow you further access to the side of his neck, your kisses trailing to the base of his throat where you attach your lips to his skin, suck momentarily and you feel his breath caught in his throat, your fingers are still in his hair trying to smooth out his soft locks, met with resistance again and the strangled moan that falls from his lips makes your head spin, the depth in his voice, the need overwhelming so close to your ear.

His fingertips are stroking the back of your neck, his other hand descending into the back of your leggings, making you smile against his skin when his hand closes over your ass to pull you in now and you stroke your hand over his shoulder underneath his tracksuit jacket where you can reach with how far the zipper is undone, smoothing your thumb over his collarbone, then you can't resist any longer and draw back to find his eyes instantly meeting yours. Unable to help yourself, you kiss him again, eased back into the taste of him, so similar to his scent, the lingering hint of smoke with the prominent bitterness of coffee, though it's the overwhelming blend of coconut fabric softener and herbal orange spice of his aftershave that weakens you, the epitome of home never settling in until he's washed his clothes here.

You draw back, but he steals your breath, angles your head with his hand at the back of your head again, refusing to let you break the kiss, his breath shakes, he moans into your mouth, draws out his lips' every movement, eager until you can no longer keep up and pull back panting, your fingers wound into his curls tightening their grip to stop him, resting your forehead against his, your heart skipping a beat when he opens his eyes and his gaze meets yours. The softness is undeniable, the lust, the passion in the intensity of the brown hopelessly hypnotising in their effect on you.

"I need a moment," you breathe, smoothing your fingers through his hair, watch his lids flutter momentarily, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards into a dazed smile.

He chuckles. "'m sorreh, darlin'." His fingers come up to brush back your hair, it's like the short intermission does the opposite of what you'd hoped, the sparkle in his wild eyes makes your breath quicken, the urgency of his need consuming. "Yeh drive meh fookin' mad."

There is no hesitation when he sees you lean forward again, he takes a hold of you, then his swollen lips collide with yours again, the kiss deeper, hungry, possessive, drawing you back into the blur of your bubble which is nothing but him and you, and he's everywhere.