The Morning After
folder
1 through F › Burn Notice
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,615
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › Burn Notice
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
3,615
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Burn Notice, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Morning After
TITLE: The Morning After
AUTHOR: Midknight
CHAPTER: 1 of 1
FANDOM: Burn Notice
SHIP: Fiona / Michael
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: Romance and Erotica
SPOILERS: Oh yes, a couple of fairly large ones
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me. They belong to whoever else does. I pay homage to them and I make no profit from this story in any fashion, way or means.
AUTHORS NOTE: I apologize before hand and hope you will forgive any errors or blatant discrepancies.
SYNOPSIS: My take on what might have happened between Fiona and Michael the morning after the hooked-up again and he received his Burn Notice Dossier.
FEEDBACK: Yes Please. It helps. It really, really helps. - Deton8@mweb.co.za
The most important resource in any covert operation is information. It can get you pretty much anything else you need. Save your hide or condemn you to failure. Right now he had most of the information he needed about his burn notice, but he had no idea what Fiona was thinking about the night before.
Michael's loft, 8:12am
"What a night and what a morning." Michael thinks. In front of him is the dossier with all the details of his burn notice. He has skimmed through it and he knows who ordered it. From, what he has read so far, the rest of the file is quite a sophisticated and well-documented fairytale.
He is sitting at the kitchen table, trying to work his way through the details, but Fiona is making breakfast, and it's distracting. He would have been satisfied with his yoghurt and some cereal, but you never argued with Fiona about food, ever.
She'd distracting. Fiona is hard to ignore at the best of times, but when she's moving around your kitchen, wearing nothing but one of your shirts it's damn near impossible. Her long, shapely tanned legs exposed, her hair roughly piled on top of her head, held there by a chopstick she'd fished out of a draw, more for practicality than anything else, but it leaves a wildness and these stray curls that frame her face in the simply cutest, sexiest way. She's humming to herself, something Irish and melodic that floats around the kitchen along with the aromas of coffee, frying bacon, scrambled eggs and sortŽd mushrooms. The smells are almost as distracting as she is.
His eyes are drawn to her, even while he is trying to read when she reaches up to one of the top shelves of his kitchen cupboards the shirt rides up revealing the smooth lower curve of her pert little ass and just a flash of he sex. Even, considering the weight of what he is dealing with, the sight brings him to half-mast in his boxers, which are the only thing he is wearing.
This, in turn, makes him think of the previous night. Was it a mistake? It most probably was, but it was a really, really good mistake. Was it going to complicate an already complicated situation? It most certainly was, but he could still smell her, feel her body against his, taste her and that brought back all the good bits of their history.
She drags his attention out of his thoughts by pulling the dossier out of his hands and placing a plate in front of him. "Hey!" he admonishes her. " She hops onto the counter and nods at the plate. "Eat. You've had you head stuck in this thing since you got it." He gives her an exasperated look, but he doesn't need too much persuasion to dig into the delicious smelling meal. He watches her flip through the dossier while picking at her own breakfast, next to her on the counter.
She flashes him occasionally, when she parts her legs slightly. He wonders if she is doing it on purpose or not. Knowing Fiona, the odds were pretty close. It does get him from half-mast to fully erect and he is glad the table hides his condition from her sight. "Could you stop doing that, please?" he asks. "What?" she asks in return. "He nods at her slightly parted knees. "Oh. Sorry." She says, but the quick quirk of her eyebrows and her mischievous smile on her full lips says otherwise. She does get off the counter, grabs her plate and takes the seat across from him on the table.
"This is quite impressive, Michael. According to this you've been quite the bad boy. Giving code-breaking intel to the Iraqis. That's a bit of overkill isn't it?" she comments. He shrugs, his mouth full with the last of his bacon and scrambles. She is leaning forward, her eyes bright, her creamy cleavage shadowed and framed by the open neck and undone top two buttons of his shirt, but tantalizingly visible. His dick twitches against his belly and he knows she's doing it deliberately.
"The breakfast was great, Fee." He thanks her and she flashes him a smile. "So... You're ready for dessert?" she asks. He frowns. "It's breakfast, Fiona. It doesn't come with dessert." He answers. "It does this morning. She tells him and gets up. She removes the chopstick and shakes out her wealth of dark hair as she pads around the table towards him.
"Errrr, Fiona. I don't think this is such a..." he starts, but she cuts him off with a well manicured finger placed over his lips. "Michael, don't think." She tells him as she steps over his knees and straddles his thighs. "Fee." He insists, but she presses her finger more firmly against his lips. "Your burn notice, last night and that," she indicated the dossier, "means our lives will be even more in flux, complicated and even more dangerous. Hopefully, there will be time for us later, once you get all this sorted out, but this is the calm before the storm, and if I am any judge, it's going to be a big one. Lets enjoy this time, Michael. It's going to be short and we should make the most of it." She explains.
She reaches between them and fishes his erection out of his boxer fly. She wraps her fist around its base and then raises up. He watches the look of intense concentration on her face, her white teeth worrying at her lower lip before his eyes close as she slides the head of his cock back and forth through her slippery, hot, wet folds. She guides him to her entrance and then slowly lowers her weight onto him.
"Michael." She calls his name softly and he opens his eyes to look into hers as he slowly sinks into her hot, wet, resisting flesh. She envelopes him, inch by pleasurably slow inch. Her flesh drags along his shaft, occasionally clenching in a vice-like grip. The pleasurable friction drags her name from his lips, voiced like a pray as her as comes to rest on his thighs and he is fully seated inside her.
"That's always the best part." She says after a moment letting her eyes flutter closed. He can feel her sex adjusting around him as she holds him in her snug moist warmth. "One of." He partially agrees as he buries his nose in her sweet smelling hair and kisses the side of her neck and sucking on her pulse point. He hears her murmur his name as she rolls her hips in small circles, hardly moving, but still riding his shaft giving him and her self little jolts of pleasure.
She throws her head back and he swirls his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat. He wraps one arm around the small of her back and hooks his hand onto her hip as she shifts her hands onto his shoulder and increases the scope of her movement so that she is now rising and falling on his quivering member. He hisses as her molten, grasping flesh drags up and down nearly the entire length of his manhood in fiery friction. She cries her own pleasure to the ceiling on pants of breath and it is music to his ears.
He kisses his way down her chest as her back arches around his supporting arm. He dips his tongue as far into her cleavage as he can then licks up the smooth valley. He needs more of her flesh, he wants more of it and the buttons on the shirt are too small. It will take to long to undo them. It is not the shirt he cares about, but what is underneath. Buttons shoot off into the kitchen as he simply rips open the obstructive garment, before grasping her breasts and guiding its turgid tip to his hungry lips.
He can feel her taut stomach shudder against his as he matches her rolling hips with thrusts of his own and he groans around a mouthful of her tit-flesh as he sex clenches and he can feel hot, thick liquid flood around his thrusting cock. With, her back arched and her hips thrusting, her breast pushes into his mouth and he sucks at it hungrily, lightly testing her exquisite flesh with his teeth and flicking the hard nub of her nipple with his tongue or swirling it over her areola.
He switches from breast to welcoming breast when he needs to come up for air, but whichever one is not receiving attention from his mouth, is massaged by his hand. The globe of her breast is warm and pliant in his palm, but at the same time firm. Her skin smooth under his fingers, the pale brown of her areola is not rough, but just not as smooth as the rest of her breast. He revels in cataloguing that difference again and again as he caresses her teasingly until he finds her nipple and tests it's resistance between his thumb and forefinger before rolling the hard little gumdrop between the same two fingers drawing loud, expressive groans from her.
Their pace is quickly driving him to the point of no return. Her movements are beginning to stutter with the onset of her orgasm. Her hips are moving more erratically as her muscles start to misfire under the assault of the pleasure surging and building in her body.
He has to abandon her breasts completely to suck in dearly needed air. Like the rest of his body, his lungs are on fire as every bit of his energy is aimed at finding her release and his own. He is holding on by a thread. He can feel his balls churning and tightening with the anticipation of orgasmic release.
Her head snaps up and she looks him straight in the eye as she plunges down on him. He sees her already large eyes widen and her teeth press into her full lower lip in an expression he had seen the night before and a lifetime ago. Time seems to slow for just a moment, holding them their, right at the brink, and then her entire sex clenches around the length of his shaft.
He grunts his release as the pressure puts him over the edge and his cock expands to release his seed, pressing against her resisting sex adding even more sensation. She cries out his name as she presses her body hard against him and wraps her arms around him. He can feel her fingernails biting into his flesh as, her body is racked by rippling wave after wave of electrifying pleasure. His own muscles are locked solid as he empties himself into her in spurt after convulsive spurt.
His orgasm is a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. He can feel her midriff shuddering against his, their skin sliding together on a slick layer of sweat. She drops her head to his shoulder and he can hear her heavy gulps of breath as her grip on his shaft lessens by degrees only to clench again with a sharp intake of breath when he shifts slightly inside her.
"Sorry." He whispers and strokes her soft hair as he feels her lightly testing the muscles of his shoulder with her teeth and then soothing the bite mark with gentle swipes of her tongue. They maintain their stillness until their bodies relax. He feels her tense and clench slightly when his penis shrinks and starts to slide out of her. She groans as she lifts herself and frees him, shifting back to rest on his thighs where he can feel the juices of their union, wet against his skin.
He continues to stroke her hair and hold her in his arms. He winces as her fingers brush and against the scratches on his back. "Sorry." She whispers in his ear. "Guess that makes us even." He replies and feels her lips shift into a smile on the skin of his shoulder.
Eventually she raises her head and they are again eye-to-eye. He searches her green-flecked orbs for a few moments and then leans forward and lightly touches his lips to hers. He softly runs the tip of his tongue over the top of her swollen lower lip before telling her: "Here's to hoping there is an after."
THE END
AUTHOR: Midknight
CHAPTER: 1 of 1
FANDOM: Burn Notice
SHIP: Fiona / Michael
RATING: NC-17
CATEGORY: Romance and Erotica
SPOILERS: Oh yes, a couple of fairly large ones
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me. They belong to whoever else does. I pay homage to them and I make no profit from this story in any fashion, way or means.
AUTHORS NOTE: I apologize before hand and hope you will forgive any errors or blatant discrepancies.
SYNOPSIS: My take on what might have happened between Fiona and Michael the morning after the hooked-up again and he received his Burn Notice Dossier.
FEEDBACK: Yes Please. It helps. It really, really helps. - Deton8@mweb.co.za
The most important resource in any covert operation is information. It can get you pretty much anything else you need. Save your hide or condemn you to failure. Right now he had most of the information he needed about his burn notice, but he had no idea what Fiona was thinking about the night before.
Michael's loft, 8:12am
"What a night and what a morning." Michael thinks. In front of him is the dossier with all the details of his burn notice. He has skimmed through it and he knows who ordered it. From, what he has read so far, the rest of the file is quite a sophisticated and well-documented fairytale.
He is sitting at the kitchen table, trying to work his way through the details, but Fiona is making breakfast, and it's distracting. He would have been satisfied with his yoghurt and some cereal, but you never argued with Fiona about food, ever.
She'd distracting. Fiona is hard to ignore at the best of times, but when she's moving around your kitchen, wearing nothing but one of your shirts it's damn near impossible. Her long, shapely tanned legs exposed, her hair roughly piled on top of her head, held there by a chopstick she'd fished out of a draw, more for practicality than anything else, but it leaves a wildness and these stray curls that frame her face in the simply cutest, sexiest way. She's humming to herself, something Irish and melodic that floats around the kitchen along with the aromas of coffee, frying bacon, scrambled eggs and sortŽd mushrooms. The smells are almost as distracting as she is.
His eyes are drawn to her, even while he is trying to read when she reaches up to one of the top shelves of his kitchen cupboards the shirt rides up revealing the smooth lower curve of her pert little ass and just a flash of he sex. Even, considering the weight of what he is dealing with, the sight brings him to half-mast in his boxers, which are the only thing he is wearing.
This, in turn, makes him think of the previous night. Was it a mistake? It most probably was, but it was a really, really good mistake. Was it going to complicate an already complicated situation? It most certainly was, but he could still smell her, feel her body against his, taste her and that brought back all the good bits of their history.
She drags his attention out of his thoughts by pulling the dossier out of his hands and placing a plate in front of him. "Hey!" he admonishes her. " She hops onto the counter and nods at the plate. "Eat. You've had you head stuck in this thing since you got it." He gives her an exasperated look, but he doesn't need too much persuasion to dig into the delicious smelling meal. He watches her flip through the dossier while picking at her own breakfast, next to her on the counter.
She flashes him occasionally, when she parts her legs slightly. He wonders if she is doing it on purpose or not. Knowing Fiona, the odds were pretty close. It does get him from half-mast to fully erect and he is glad the table hides his condition from her sight. "Could you stop doing that, please?" he asks. "What?" she asks in return. "He nods at her slightly parted knees. "Oh. Sorry." She says, but the quick quirk of her eyebrows and her mischievous smile on her full lips says otherwise. She does get off the counter, grabs her plate and takes the seat across from him on the table.
"This is quite impressive, Michael. According to this you've been quite the bad boy. Giving code-breaking intel to the Iraqis. That's a bit of overkill isn't it?" she comments. He shrugs, his mouth full with the last of his bacon and scrambles. She is leaning forward, her eyes bright, her creamy cleavage shadowed and framed by the open neck and undone top two buttons of his shirt, but tantalizingly visible. His dick twitches against his belly and he knows she's doing it deliberately.
"The breakfast was great, Fee." He thanks her and she flashes him a smile. "So... You're ready for dessert?" she asks. He frowns. "It's breakfast, Fiona. It doesn't come with dessert." He answers. "It does this morning. She tells him and gets up. She removes the chopstick and shakes out her wealth of dark hair as she pads around the table towards him.
"Errrr, Fiona. I don't think this is such a..." he starts, but she cuts him off with a well manicured finger placed over his lips. "Michael, don't think." She tells him as she steps over his knees and straddles his thighs. "Fee." He insists, but she presses her finger more firmly against his lips. "Your burn notice, last night and that," she indicated the dossier, "means our lives will be even more in flux, complicated and even more dangerous. Hopefully, there will be time for us later, once you get all this sorted out, but this is the calm before the storm, and if I am any judge, it's going to be a big one. Lets enjoy this time, Michael. It's going to be short and we should make the most of it." She explains.
She reaches between them and fishes his erection out of his boxer fly. She wraps her fist around its base and then raises up. He watches the look of intense concentration on her face, her white teeth worrying at her lower lip before his eyes close as she slides the head of his cock back and forth through her slippery, hot, wet folds. She guides him to her entrance and then slowly lowers her weight onto him.
"Michael." She calls his name softly and he opens his eyes to look into hers as he slowly sinks into her hot, wet, resisting flesh. She envelopes him, inch by pleasurably slow inch. Her flesh drags along his shaft, occasionally clenching in a vice-like grip. The pleasurable friction drags her name from his lips, voiced like a pray as her as comes to rest on his thighs and he is fully seated inside her.
"That's always the best part." She says after a moment letting her eyes flutter closed. He can feel her sex adjusting around him as she holds him in her snug moist warmth. "One of." He partially agrees as he buries his nose in her sweet smelling hair and kisses the side of her neck and sucking on her pulse point. He hears her murmur his name as she rolls her hips in small circles, hardly moving, but still riding his shaft giving him and her self little jolts of pleasure.
She throws her head back and he swirls his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat. He wraps one arm around the small of her back and hooks his hand onto her hip as she shifts her hands onto his shoulder and increases the scope of her movement so that she is now rising and falling on his quivering member. He hisses as her molten, grasping flesh drags up and down nearly the entire length of his manhood in fiery friction. She cries her own pleasure to the ceiling on pants of breath and it is music to his ears.
He kisses his way down her chest as her back arches around his supporting arm. He dips his tongue as far into her cleavage as he can then licks up the smooth valley. He needs more of her flesh, he wants more of it and the buttons on the shirt are too small. It will take to long to undo them. It is not the shirt he cares about, but what is underneath. Buttons shoot off into the kitchen as he simply rips open the obstructive garment, before grasping her breasts and guiding its turgid tip to his hungry lips.
He can feel her taut stomach shudder against his as he matches her rolling hips with thrusts of his own and he groans around a mouthful of her tit-flesh as he sex clenches and he can feel hot, thick liquid flood around his thrusting cock. With, her back arched and her hips thrusting, her breast pushes into his mouth and he sucks at it hungrily, lightly testing her exquisite flesh with his teeth and flicking the hard nub of her nipple with his tongue or swirling it over her areola.
He switches from breast to welcoming breast when he needs to come up for air, but whichever one is not receiving attention from his mouth, is massaged by his hand. The globe of her breast is warm and pliant in his palm, but at the same time firm. Her skin smooth under his fingers, the pale brown of her areola is not rough, but just not as smooth as the rest of her breast. He revels in cataloguing that difference again and again as he caresses her teasingly until he finds her nipple and tests it's resistance between his thumb and forefinger before rolling the hard little gumdrop between the same two fingers drawing loud, expressive groans from her.
Their pace is quickly driving him to the point of no return. Her movements are beginning to stutter with the onset of her orgasm. Her hips are moving more erratically as her muscles start to misfire under the assault of the pleasure surging and building in her body.
He has to abandon her breasts completely to suck in dearly needed air. Like the rest of his body, his lungs are on fire as every bit of his energy is aimed at finding her release and his own. He is holding on by a thread. He can feel his balls churning and tightening with the anticipation of orgasmic release.
Her head snaps up and she looks him straight in the eye as she plunges down on him. He sees her already large eyes widen and her teeth press into her full lower lip in an expression he had seen the night before and a lifetime ago. Time seems to slow for just a moment, holding them their, right at the brink, and then her entire sex clenches around the length of his shaft.
He grunts his release as the pressure puts him over the edge and his cock expands to release his seed, pressing against her resisting sex adding even more sensation. She cries out his name as she presses her body hard against him and wraps her arms around him. He can feel her fingernails biting into his flesh as, her body is racked by rippling wave after wave of electrifying pleasure. His own muscles are locked solid as he empties himself into her in spurt after convulsive spurt.
His orgasm is a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. He can feel her midriff shuddering against his, their skin sliding together on a slick layer of sweat. She drops her head to his shoulder and he can hear her heavy gulps of breath as her grip on his shaft lessens by degrees only to clench again with a sharp intake of breath when he shifts slightly inside her.
"Sorry." He whispers and strokes her soft hair as he feels her lightly testing the muscles of his shoulder with her teeth and then soothing the bite mark with gentle swipes of her tongue. They maintain their stillness until their bodies relax. He feels her tense and clench slightly when his penis shrinks and starts to slide out of her. She groans as she lifts herself and frees him, shifting back to rest on his thighs where he can feel the juices of their union, wet against his skin.
He continues to stroke her hair and hold her in his arms. He winces as her fingers brush and against the scratches on his back. "Sorry." She whispers in his ear. "Guess that makes us even." He replies and feels her lips shift into a smile on the skin of his shoulder.
Eventually she raises her head and they are again eye-to-eye. He searches her green-flecked orbs for a few moments and then leans forward and lightly touches his lips to hers. He softly runs the tip of his tongue over the top of her swollen lower lip before telling her: "Here's to hoping there is an after."
THE END