Drabbles + Oneshots | Got7

tempos and rhythms | jackson

dirty, suggestive

a/n: part of my musings based on lyrics project

song: listen to "money power glory" by lana del rey

i can do it if you really, really like that, i know what you really want, baby, i can do it if you think you like that, you should run, boy, run...

The hotel room was gold suede and red velvet. If a color combination ever represented Jackson, this was it. She regards the ornate suite with disdain. Only here for a night, did he really need this much space?

The answer, of course, is yes. Jackson is lavish and excessive. She knew that. Hell, everyone knew that.

Coat discarded, leather lingerie wound tight around a supply body, her heels click loudly across the floor. The boots travel up to her thighs, just the way he likes it. Straps tangle between hips and breasts. Just the way he likes it.

A vision in black and red.

The man of her focus sits motionless on the distant chair. Naked as the day he was born save for the crimson bathrobe. Fresh from the shower by the looks of his damp hair. Exhaustion weighs down his face.

She moves toward him, predator stalking toward completely suspecting prey. With what little energy he has left, he tugs the knot of the robe and the veil slips open. Enough to reveal he's been hard for god knows how long and is twitching at the sight before him.

The song changes on the nearby player, hooked to her phone. Finally landing on the track she wanted.

Jackson rolls his eyes at the slow tempo before closing them completely and letting his head fall back against the recliner. He bitched a whole five minutes over her choice of background music.

"This is not music for fucking."

She cut him a glare. "It is if I say it is."

"...Yes, mam."

She wants to smile. Such a good boy, but he loves to spar. To everyone else he is the boss, but not to her. She can do as she pleases with him.

"Since I'm the one doing the fucking," she murmurs, straddling his lap. "I pick the soundtrack."

Jackson surrenders this time. He wants to be owned tonight.

She knows that. He is very vocal about his desires. She was summoned to meet him and assist him with his frustrations. That's how this arrangement goes.

His hands grace her hips almost lazily. A small grunt hangs in his throat when she grasps him.

Was there a better sight than her on top of him? The answer was a resounding no.

Her body accepts him deep. No slow and steady build tonight. His release is paramount in her mind. He looks like life is a heartbeat away from breaking him.

But not when she's done with him. Each time she leaves his bed, he's ready to fuck the world.

Sing for me, baby. Let me know how good I make you feel. His body obeys her every command. She knows him better than he knows himself. And he's not afraid to make noise.

The assistants just beyond the door hardly glance up from their phones. The symphony of lewd sounds are as everyday as the morning traffic. Boss has a big appetite.

He only gets louder. He sucks in air through his teeth. She has no mercy. Not when she's out to finish him. He offers curses in a language she doesn't understand, but at the edge of nirvana they are all he knows.

She calls his name. The one he rarely uses. It's enough to make him give her everything he's ever owned.

Except his heart. She gave that back not too long ago.

Her skin bruises beneath heavy hands. No apologies to be found in the heat of the moment. She couldn't care less. Her focus is his heaving chest, his endless panting.

Baby, please. Fuck me.

Hands land on her ass. Incentive to pick up the pace. She feels the sting again. Do it like you mean it. Like you love it. Like you can't live without it.

Rise and fall. Rise and fall. Just like their relationship. They were doomed from the start. Fire meets fire and everything burns. What did they expect?

Jackson begs for her mercy, for her forgiveness. Whatever he has to until she gives him sweet, intense release.

She finds that rhythm. Ride him harder. He needs it so bad. Ride him faster. He's about to blow.

Only when he finishes does she kiss him. Only when she's done with him do their lips meet. Kissing is reserved for lovers, but she can't resist a taste. He kisses back, breathless and satisfied. His tongue is relentless in her mouth.

Sure, it's such a shame love didn't work out for the two of them, but she was still the best fuck in his world.

hallelujah, i wanna take you for all that you got, hallelujah, i'm gonna take them for all that they got...

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