#carlliot

Her hand is gripping the back of Elliot’s neck like he’s a kitten. Long fingernails digging into his scruff. He’d sat and watched her file them earlier, snapping bubblegum like a teenager. Leg crossed over her knee. Leon’s arm around her shoulders. Elliot had ached with jealousy. He aches more now.

His jumpsuit is zipped to the very bottom. Cold air on his chest, prickling over with goosebumps from Carla’s nails, from being bared like this. The risk, the fear of getting caught. Elliot’s so hard in her fist that Carla had laughed when she’d first touched him; a soft exhale of breath. 

“You want me, huh?” she asks now, nails digging in deeper. Elliot just moans; a small, caught noise. Carla swipes her thumb through the wet at the head of his dick, and leans in close to whisper, “Getting off from a hand job like you’re fucking me.” Mouth to the shell of his ear. Those wicked nails. 

When he spills over her hand she keeps pumping him, leaning back so she can look at him as he hisses, and twists, sinks his teeth into his lips.