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Inside the Circle	By : Storyseeker Category: +G through L > G.I. Joe Views: 7945 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own G.I. Joe, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Follow
- 2-Master
- 3-Silence
- 4-Spark
- 5-Heat
- 6-Mist
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter 5: Heat

Scarlett took him by the hands and led him forward, her feet backing across the floor by memory. The expression in Snake-eyes’ good eye was still distracted. She continued, “I’m thinking I’d like to lay you down somewhere warm and let’s forget the Dojo mojo for a while.”

Her hands moved to his hips and spread her fingers wide, pulling him against her. “And don’t think for a minute I’m gonna buy any cock and bull about ‘A Warrior’s Body is a Temple’” She purred. “Unless the one you’re planning on worshiping is mine.” That brought a flash of teeth from him.

She drew him to the corner until her knees bumped their bed. Climbing it one leg, than the other, brought her eyes to his level. Ah there we go. That was the look she loved to see in his eyes: All mammalian and kindling promise. He was responding to her after all. Continuing her persuasion, she let her fingers travel, caressing the hard lines, criss-crossed and marred. No clean- limbed sports athlete. He was a war dog, battle tested and honed within an inch of his life. She dragged her nails upward to hook her wrists behind his neck and dipped to taste the salt of his neck. The bob of his throat in response made her smile. The soft sigh and tilt of his head as her tongue drew a warm line to his earlobe made her grin. Her breath was feathery and teasing, “You know lover…I read somewhere that for every point of pain in a body, there was a corresponding point of pleasu…..”

He turned and sealed his mouth over hers abruptly, his hands pulling her to him. Using his whole body to sway her, he bend her back onto the quilt, catching his weight on his elbows as he followed. His eyes met hers with a shadow of her own teasing reflected in them. His finger touched her lips, “Shhhh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h”. She shivered at the sound.

And then he lowered his mouth once more with a butterfly touch that drew its way over her parted mouth, catching any further words in her throat. As if the precise and delicate progression of his tongue would ever be anything but brain scattering. With a silent “Gotcha” in her head, she sighed audibly and twined her limbs around him, letting her body begin its burn.

Arching in response, her silent devotee pressed his weight into her, sliding his arm over her thigh and clutching her to him. His mouth in counterpoint continued its teasing, light exploration, and he resisted her demanding pull on his hair with a twined grip of his own on the back of her head. She grunted in protest, wanting to deepen the kiss. When he didn’t relent, she flexed her thighs, rolling her spine. He grunted in return, and drew his knees under, pulling her hips up with him.

Still tasting and teasing he released his hold on her hip to fumble his way between them; a blend of awkwardness and grace. He wedged her anchored body away just far enough -she wasn’t about to give him an inch here- to draw a blade and shurukin from their hiding place at his waist. Only then did he release her, settling his hips once more and smiling sideways as he laid the glinting instruments on the bedside. She chuckled. The hidden hazards of concealed weaponry.

Taking advantage of her freedom, she twisted, and rolled him to his back, straddling him firmly. He settled his hands on her thighs, allowing the shift of power, his face hidden in the shadow cast by her body. She knew he could see her though, and arched for him, drawing her flannel shirt over her head in a smooth motion. The soft sound he made was almost as sweet as the slide of his palms over her ribs.

How did he do that? Sometimes it was the smallest things that made her respond to him. And heaven help her, made her feel more feminine and desired than she ever thought possible.

In response, she moved, rolling her head back, and rocking her blue jean hips slowly over the firm shape of him beneath the dark canvas of his pants. The gentle flexing of his hips in response was nothing compared to the hovering glide of his hands ghosting upwards: A touch so light, it was her own movement that broke and remade contact with each slow rock. His fingertips found and caressed her breasts, stroking lightly, letting the drawn tips slide of their own accord along his palms. She felt his eyes on her as well, and her body moved more purposefully. His teasing persuasion had her responding without thought, drawing heat to her skin and an uneven cadence to her breath. How long it continued like this, she couldn’t have said. She simply slid into a now of slowly building sensation.

The focus returned abruptly with the slide of his fingers along her center. Her eyes flew open and she whimpered sharply. She straightened, unsure how she had ended up straddled further down on his thighs, with her hands braced on his knees, or when exactly he’d managed to unfasten her jeans far enough to slip his hand inside. Panting and heated, she locked gazes with him. He’d shifted as well, propped on one elbow and fixing her a look of triumph. He curled his fingers against her, and she jerked, whimpering again, a high, moaning sound.

Satisfied that he had her attention, he too straightened, his free hand coming forward to clasp her hip. With her anchored in his grip and on his hand, he moved once more, his fingertips sliding purposefully in tight rhythm. She tried to shift, but found she couldn’t move, short of doing one of them damage. She pushed against his arms, but he didn’t give way. His eyes watched her every struggle and expression. Heat rushed through her, and sweat sparkled on her skin. She bit her lips, moaning, and her eyes squeeze shut as he stroked her again and again.

She was soon keening helplessly, her hands locked on his unyielding wrists. It was almost too much. Nearly pain. Too much pleasure. Loosing her grip, she arced, taut as a cocked crossbow. She almost begged him to stop, but her throat clenched tightly around her words. With an undulating suddenness, her body gave way for him in a spine arching, twisting rush.

She was willingly incoherent to the further movements of their bodies, only barely aware of his hands moving her, of his hands removing the rest of their clothing. Then she was curled by his side, with the heat of his body along her entire length, and she rested her face in the hollow of his shoulder, panting contentedly to herself. He caressed her even as he held her to him, his fingers dragging her hair from her face. The tremor in his hands was barely noticeable and she stroked him in return, her body shifting slowly along his skin as he pulsed hotly against her thigh.

“So sexy...” she panted breathlessly. “..when you move.”

His breath shivered as if in agreement. Her fingers trailed down and closed on his erection casually. With a pulsing squeeze that twitched his muscles in response, she cleared her throat softly and tilted her head to look up at his unbalanced features. “So…are you ready to lay back and let someone else take control for a while yet?” Another soft squeeze, and his eyes lost focus for a second. He hesitated, breathing deeply. Then his head relaxed back onto the pillow and his cleansing sigh let her know he was hers. With no more encouragement, she dropped her face to his skin, tasting, licking, biting; marking a path as her own. Her hair trailed blood red in the firelight against his chest as she worked her way down. All the while, she gripped him in her hand, squeezing and releasing; barely stroking.

By the time her face reached his erection, hot against her cheek, he had threaded her hair through his fingers and his long vaunted control was unraveling with each small thrust of his hips against her hand. Always a lady, Scarlett obliged him with the best manners her momma never taught her, taking that fine, length of him into her mouth, and savoring the taste that it brought her. Her tongue swirled, and she withdrew. Then, with a lick from base to tip, she closed over him again, repeating her motions with thoughtful determination. Common knowledge said that Snake Eyes was totally mute. That was not entirely accurate, as the broken and unpracticed utterings she drew from him attested. She relished the sound of his voice, shattered as it was. And more, she relished that it was she who could pull such sounds from this overly self-conscious man.

It wasn’t long before the hands on her head were working in time with her motions, not exactly forcing her, but definitely encouraging the building rhythm of her mouth, hands, and his hips. As his muscles bunched and corded under her, Scarlett considered finishing him like this.

She smiled to herself. No. After watching him all day altering between training and brooding, she wanted her eyes on his as he came. She wanted to watch every bit of that tension and control explode from his body, and see his face react to it.

Scarlett let go, rising up against the brief protest in his voice and hands. She gazed lazily at him, and crawled her way upwards, with a sway and a sweet smile turned feral through the hanging locks of her tangled hair until she straddled him hands and legs, and the wild mane created a burgundy waterfall around their faces. Oh he looked so lost staring at her, given over to some part of himself no one else ever saw.

She answered his need, lowering herself on him. They slid against one another, rocking, searching. His hands, riding along her waist the entire time, gripped tightly as they connected, and he thrust upwards, forcefully burying himself with a gasp from them both.

With that, Snake Eyes gave in completely, his need rawer and closer to the surface than she expected. She cried out at the force of it as he braced his feet under her and set a rhythm that was hard and hot. She anchored her hands to his shoulders and rocked with him in an effort to match his stride, and to go with him to wherever the violence took them.

And the whole while she watched him; the way his teeth bared, and his face twisted in a snarl, only to relax, slack and open mouthed in a silent moan as the sensation crested to yet another level. Then came his conscious realization of her regard when his eyes locked onto hers.

His expression was filled with such raw wanting; sweat slick, and brow knitted. He released his painful grip on her waist, and caught her face in his palms, pulling her to him. A kiss, and he tasted her mouth hungrily, as hungrily as he shoved himself into her. Scarlett cupped his face in return, her eyes never leaving his, watching his face tighten, breathing in his ragged breath and speechless sounds, feeling the tension sing in his body’s frantic drive. He swelled and tightened within her, his hands fisting in her hair painfully. She murmered whispered encouragement, scoring his shoulders with her nails and pushing him deep. With a hiss and harsh snort of breath, he exploded, his body bucking while she rocked hard, riding him to his completion.

Scarlett crumpled, her limbs loose and useless, and neither cared that her hair draped wetly across their panting faces. They lay tangled and heaving for long minutes as their breaths and bodies relearned how to speak softly, then, even longer, while Scarlett slipped down and drifted into a peaceful haze of half sleep.

She assumed he did the same. But then he stirred, smoothing her hair slowly into place with tentative strokes of his hand. Something about it drew her back to wakefulness, and she shifted so that she could look at him, her eyes blinking lazily. The look on his face caught her breath, a look of longing, and resignation both. The faint apprehension she felt was eased as his hand moved to speak in the firelight. “I love you Shana.”

She blinked again, and caught Snake-eyes’ hand, bringing it to her lips. “I love you too big guy.” She rubbed her cheek along his knuckle. “Thought you would have figured it out by now.”
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Inside the Circle