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clawen-forsurvival · 2 years

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held on as tightly as you held onto me

Owen attempts to figure out what exactly is going on with Claire while he once again is faced with a prehistoric playground.

i don’t know what came over me but this second part just appeared in my brain???

continuation from part one AKA claire’s point of view

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR JW: DOMINION

Something is off.

Blue stares at Claire too long, Claire stares at Blue like she knows why.

And as much as he wants to figure it out, Owen can’t tell what the woman he loves and the raptor were telling each other.

Claire looks terrified of the dinosaurs in the black market.

Well, more terrified than she usually would be of them.

She’s done so many search and rescue missions and helped so many of these creatures in the past few years that Owen was half expecting her to run through the black market and open all the cages.

Instead she walks slightly behind him and watches the world around her with trepidation.

He does not look at the dinosaurs, and try as he might he does not keep his eyes on Barry.

Owen’s eyes are on Claire trying to piece together what the hell is happening with her.

When he and Barry trap the atrociraptors he thinks he has it all figured out.

The look in Barry’s eyes, the terror at the thought that one of these monsters could kill him if moved too slow, is clear on his face.

Claire is simply scared.

And she has every right to be.

They’re up against prehistoric animals once again and now Maisie is missing.

(It doesn’t help either that she’ll still wake up screaming every once in awhile, Isla Nublar still haunting her.)

So, Owen figures, it makes perfect sense that Claire is scared.

Because he’s scared too.

Owen has done a lot of stupid shit in his life.

Like a lot.

But driving down an airport tarmac on a glorified dirt bike while genetically fucked up velociraptors chase him feels pretty high up there.

He barely makes it onto the plane, his footing shaky as Claire holds onto him for dear life. He takes a stilted breath, his hands holding her tight to his chest.

She’s scared. And so is he.

They can be scared together. For survival, right?

She needs to go. She needs to go and save Maisie, even if he won’t follow.

“You have to be the one to get her. You’re her mom.”

He tries to convince himself that that’s why he’s sending her. Not because he’s not sure he’ll make it out of this plane alive.

If Claire doesn’t make it, he and Maisie would both crumble. But Claire? She could handle life with her and Maisie.

Claire nods, barely. Her cheeks are stained with tears as he leans down and kisses her. It’s shorter than he wants, but it’s all he can spare.

“I’ll see you again.”

He prays he’s right.

And then, the words he was so scared to say for the longest time.

The ones he’d whispered to her under the dark of night when the world seemed to be caving in around them.

The ones he said before she did.

“I love you.”

The assurance that they meant something.

She closes her eyes and he waits.

She opens her eyes and he’s confused.

“Owen.”

There’s one breath between his name and the moment his life changes.

“I’m pregnant.”

Before he can say anything, before he can react, before he can stop her or urge her on or anything she’s gone.

Claire has flown out of a plane from a fucking eject seat with their baby growing in her belly.

“Watts, you get us out of this alive.”

When he falls through the ice he sees everything.

His mom and dad, his childhood best friend Patrick, his eight grade ice hockey team, the girl he made out with in the back of his pickup truck junior year, his mothers funeral, his fathers funeral, his Navy buddy O’Reilly, the open sea, O’Reilly’s funeral, Simon Masrani, that prick Hoskins, Blue and her pack, Gray and Zach, Claire.

Claire tying her shirt up, Claire running with a flare in hand through Jurassic World, Claire in an airport hanger holding his hand, Claire showing up and dragging him to a bar, Claire’s perfect skin, Claire and Maisie.

Maisie flashes through a few more times and while he loves the girl his mind keeps taking him back to Claire.

Claire, who loves him.

Claire, who’s raising a moody teenager with him.

Claire, who’s pregnant with his baby.

Watts pulls him up and it’s not until they’re in the service elevator that he breathes steadily again.

When Owen pulls the Dilophosaurus off of Claire he wonders for a moment how his life has gotten to this point.

Instead of pondering the thought he pulls Claire into him and breathes a sigh of relief.

“It’s okay, I got you.”

At least for the moment he can rest knowing Claire is okay, that their baby is okay, and that he had them in his arms.

“I got you.”

He’s not sure what compels him to place his hand over Claire’s belly, sending her into full fledged sobs, but he can’t resist the comfort that the action brings him.

He wants to talk to her, to ask a million questions and give her reassurances, but they need to find Maisie.

Find Maisie, then talk.

Maisie finds them.

It’s not lost on Owen how Claire knows their daughters screams before they can see her.

He wraps both of his girls up in his arms and holds them longer than he usually does.

They’re okay, at least for now.

He can’t breathe.

He watches as Claire is pulled across the floor and out the window and he can’t fucking breathe.

His body works on auto pilot, grabbing the rope and pulling Claire back to him.

He doesn’t care that there’s a room full of people around them, he holds her until his lungs inflate again and he’s sure she’s real and there and against his chest.

If he closes his eyes for a moment too long all he sees is Maisie trapped on the ladder and Claire falling out the window.

He doesn’t think he’ll sleep ever again.

“You’re acting weird.”

Maisie doesn’t say anything until her and Grant and him are heading back to the control room.

“Well kid we’re in a prehistoric playground and you were M.I.A. for the better part of two days and your mom almost got eaten by a dinosaur so cut me some slack.”

Alan chuckles as Owen lets out a breath.

Fucking teenagers.

He almost loses it in the rain. He almost pushes Claire and Maisie into the helicopter and lets the t-rex eat him if it means they’re safe.

But everyone is safely inside and everyone is going home.

He breathes out easily, one arm wrapping around Claire while he brings his hand down to press against their baby.

Holy shit. Their kid just survived Jurassic Park 3.0.

“Claire, what in the damn hell were you thinking?”

He means for it to come out softer, but the further away they’ve gotten from Biosyn the more he can’t figure out what the hell she was thinking.

“Owen please-“

“You could’ve died! You went out there, knowing you were-“

And it’s true. Claire clearly knew before they left that she was pregnant and still went.

Owen stutters, remembering Blue’s curious look at Claire.

Blue knew too.

“I did what I had to do!”

“You put yourself at risk and that baby and-“

“I had to save our daughter! I couldn’t not save her!”

He knows she’s right, the same maternal instinct coursed through both her and Blue telling them to protect their babies.

Raptors and humans aren’t all that different.

“I couldn’t let you go alone, I couldn’t just… I couldn’t just sit here. So I’m sorry but-“

He knows she couldn’t let him go alone. She couldn’t sit at home wondering if Maisie was okay, if he was okay.

“You��re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He tries to convince himself and Claire of the matter. She’s here and he’s here and Maisie is here and their child stills rests in Claire’s belly and they’re going to be okay.

His son sounds like a velociraptor.

He thinks it’s karma, Claire laughs at him.

#clawen #jurassic world #owen grady #jurassic park #claire dearing #owen x claire #claire x owen #clawen fanfic #jw dominion

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poeticandvaguelysweet · 2 years

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Prompt: #255 - Halloween (explicit)

THIS IS SET PRE-JURASSIC WORLD AND DOES NOT CONTAIN DOMINION SPOILERS FOR ANY LOVES WHO HAVE NOT SEEN IT YET

I first wrote and published this fic in November 2018. Someone left me a rather lengthy review complaining about how bad it was and how disappointed they are (not constructive criticism) on my birthday when I was already having a shit time. It got to me so badly I deleted this fic. I was thinking about it recently, and after having two conversations about it with two different people I have decided to repost it. It’s been lightly edited, but for the most part remains the same.

Summary: Owen and Claire fuck after a halloween party.

AO3

HALLOWEEN

Halloween, 2014

Isla Nublar

Parties, especially staff parties, were not Claire’s thing. She felt awkward, lingering in a room full of staffers she barely spoke to. Zara’s smile was bright, grinning at Claire like she knew her secret. ‘I'm so glad you decided to come!’ Zara half yelled over the music, her elbow tapping Claire’s hip. ‘You look ravishing.’ She winked again making Claire wonder if she had revealed her intentions to Zara without realising. Her assistant leaned in again, this time letting her finger slip between the bands that scattered down the side of her skirt. She pulled it tight, letting the fabric go as it snapped back into place with a satisfying sound against Claire’s skin. ‘I'm going to go get us some drinks, do you have a preference?’ She asked, stepping away with a small laugh as she marvelled at her boss wearing something so unexpected.

Zara disappeared into the decorations, cobwebs and plastic spiders hanging from doorways and sconces. Someone had plugged in a smoke machine, setting off an eerie atmosphere and thick air. She couldn’t see the walls anymore, just faint outlines of spooky decorations and the faint knowledge that tombstones scattered the space here and there.

The Monster Mash played at an obnoxiously loud level as employees dressed in varying costumes moved to the music, drinks in hand and conversation on their lips. She didn’t pay them much mind beyond a quiet smile, happy to see the tension from the command room slip away and the high pressures of a popular theme park disappear into a quiet night. Claire didn’t know them well, but she knew they deserved this. Time off to celebrate amongst themselves without the pressures of their jobs.

Her eyes washed over them, peering through the manufactured fog, looking for one face and body in particular. She wasn't sure if he would be there, but free booze always seemed to be a lure for Owen Grady. Claire wondered briefly if she poured herself a glass of tequila if it would be enough to summon him. Like the smell of his favourite liquor would be enough to drag his nose through the room until he was standing at her feet, wondering why on Earth she was holding something she once denied. Surely, just to prove her wrong he would appear, telling her the drink wasn’t approved by her diet with a smirk and a self-satisfied chuckle. She hoped he would, so she could roll her eyes and feel the familiar warmth slide down her spine. He was a jerk. But he did it for her.

‘Please tell me you just had this lying around.’ Like he felt his ears burning or sensed her tequila thoughts, Owen appeared. His hand ghosted over her hip, too scared to touch her fully as his fingers made contact with her skin in the gaps of her skirt. His voice was low, warning and weak. Claire knew all she would have to do is nod and he would be jelly at her feet, his hands all over her as he pulled her body into his.

It felt so easy with Owen. Easier than it had ever had been, easier than all the times she wanted it to work and the relationships she tried to salvage. But he made it feel so good and so effortless, even when she wanted to hate every second of it. Even when she tried. The man had talent even she couldn’t dissuade and now she was yearning for it, missing him like another limb. She hated herself, if only a little, for being drawn into the spiders’ web but she also knew Owen was harmless and had the highest of senses that he was into her enough to want to do it again.

Claire tried to pretend she didn’t feel a shock of electricity at his touch, her heart pounding instantly as her mind wandered to delicious thoughts. The scratch of his voice made her recall when it had been pressed directly beside her ear, his breath ghosting past the cartilage and setting her on fire.

‘Sorry?’ Claire asked, playing stupid to his words as she looked him up and down. He wasn’t wearing a costume. Still dressed in jeans and the leather vest she always saw him wearing at the paddock he wreaked of dirt and something specifically Owen. It was nice to know he didn’t scrub up for parties as well as dates.

He nodded at her attire, Claire suddenly feeling self-conscious about her choice. ‘I’m just trying to figure out whether this is something that’s always lived in your wardrobe or if you bought it for tonight.’ She watched his eyes as he watched her, smoothing up and down the lines of her body in a way that made her skin hot. Usually, Claire would be repulsed, annoyed at the blatant cockiness of the man. But, Owen … she wanted this from him. She realised, a little too late, that she was likely setting women back twenty years in choosing to dress specifically to be ogled by a man. Claire was hoping the payoff would be worth it.

Her hands smoothed over her hips, sliding across the fabric in the front of her skirt.

The skirt was knee length, a leatherette and held together by individual elastic straps down each side. They were a few inches apart, leaving pale skin to the mercy of eager eyes. She wore a laced corset underneath it, more skin on show as she covered herself with a neat blazer, leaving the rest to temptation.

‘It’s new.’ She offered, trying for a seductive smile and a heavy bat of her lashes.

‘What are you supposed to be anyway? Sexy corporate kitty?’ Claire felt heat climb across her cheeks and slither its way down her neck. She had forgotten about the headband with cat ears she bought and the whiskers she drew on herself with a kohl pencil, trying to keep up the pretence that she had a costume and wasn’t just wearing lingerie. Sexy rolled from his tongue, dancing in her ears and setting her skin on fire.

He wasn’t hesitant, but confident, choosing his words wisely as Claire swore she caught a gleam in his eye. ‘And what are you supposed to be. Yourself?’

Owen shrugged, ‘Thought Raptor Trainer would be a good costume’. She rolled her eyes, unable to help herself against his cocky grin. He thought he was so clever. Owen was interesting, easy to peg and easy to concur but he was interesting to Claire. Different from others certainly didn’t give up and even though he crossed the boundary line on a few small occasions, for the most part, he knew it was there. Above it all, he never seemed to give up on her, no matter how many times she tried to push him away. ‘I honestly didn’t think you would go for this kind of dress-up at all.’

He was stuck on it, fascinated, his eyes sliding down her body once again, hands twitching at his sides. He wanted to touch. Claire had him hook, line and sinker. ‘Well, I saw it and thought it would look good against your bike.’ She saw him swallow hard, fingers curling into fists as he held himself back, trying not to launch at her. It was faint, but she heard the rumble of a growl in the back of his throat, fading itself out with the chatter and the music around them.

Her body had been humming since she got dressed that afternoon, knowing full well that if things went to plan she would have a lot to be excited about. That hum had built to a slow burn, tingling under the surface that now, at his reaction, lit itself alight and started to rush across her body.

‘You, ah, want to go outside and see if your theory was correct?’ He asked, nervous as he gestured towards the door somewhere in the fog. Claire liked surprising him, he was always breathless and thrown off when she said the unexpected. To think that she could keep a man on his toes, thrilled her. Not once did he show he was intimidated by it. Owen always recovered quickly, showing her a flash of confusion before that smirk grew across his cheeks and he challenged her right back.

She barely managed a nod before he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the throng of people. He stopped at the make-shift bar, asking her if she wanted anything and not moving until she shook her head. Claire wasn’t there to drink.

His bike was sitting outside, away from the other vehicles. There was no streetlight, only the silver wash from the full moon, shining off the metal of his bike’s engine. She felt her heart pick up a beat as her feet carried her across the footpath, Owen by her side making idle conversation.

‘Didn't expect to see you at a party like this.’ It wasn’t organised by the higher-ups. One of the herbivore trainers was huge on Halloween and couldn't stand that nothing was being done for employees. There was plenty for park guests but nothing they would want to go to in their downtime. So, Pete or Mike or whatever his name was, set this up. Owen was surprised Claire even knew about it.

‘I’m full of surprises.’ Nonchalant, she shrugged, stepping ahead of him as her shoes hit gravel without pause. His bike was cool under her fingertips, the leather soft and well worn as she grazed her touch up and down the seat before it rose over the cold metal of the handlebars.

Owen was quiet behind her, admiring her ass no doubt as she leaned over the machine in her admiration of it. Motorcycles were something that had thrilled her, once upon a time, the danger of them felt more real than that of living on an island full of dinosaurs and the fact that Owen insisted upon having his here, with him, drew her in quicker than a flame called to a moth.

Her fingers danced, gentle as they pasted the plaque branding, ‘Triumph’ pressed proudly in silver decorating the fuel tank. 'You want to hop on?' Owen’s voice was strong behind her, deeper than she had heard it since the last time their bodies touched. She turned, ever so slowly, unsure if the blood rushing south was making her dizzy enough to fall over. Her smile was shy but challenging as she bent, fingers finding the hem of her skirt. Claire could swear she heard Owen swallow, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as his feet scratched across the gravel.

‘God, Claire, you don’t have to straddle it.’ His hand appeared at her thigh, fingers warm against her wrist as he tried to stop her. The wounded, if not startled look she threw him was enough to make him retreat. His hand was still on her wrist, but his touch was no longer meant to discourage her.

She stepped back with the audacity to look wounded before her features softened into a small smirk. ‘So, just like this then?’ Claire asked, straightening as her skirt remained crumpled, pulled halfway up her thighs. She looked dishevelled, not unlike herself, as Claire took a step back towards the bike, waiting until she felt the coolness of it against her back. She hummed, leaning herself against the machine as Owen stood watch.

‘Yeah,’ He sighed, breathless, unable to fill his lungs with the cool air that surrounded them. She was a sight and a half, stretched out in front of his bike, her hands propped up behind her. Her blazer was pulled tight over her chest, one button holding it in place, straining for release as her skirt sat just as snug, promising him so much more. ‘Almost perfect.’ He found his feet, boots kicking the gravel as he stepped forward. ‘You been drinking?’ He asked, not unfamiliar to a drunk Claire, a little looser than the corporate woman he saw from day to day. This wasn’t her. She shook her head, holding his gaze in the moonlight. ‘Good.’ The answer was rough as his hand raised, reaching for her. His fingers found the button of her blazer, flicking it in a fluid motion to set the fabric free. It breezed down her sides, revealing the corset Claire wore, black lace, sheer in places. Owen’s breathing grew deeper, eyes closing for a split second as she stood there, ignited by the moonlight. ‘Much better,’ he muttered, stepping closer, his large hands found her waist.

It was Claire’s turn to feel breathless, lost in his warm touch as her body shivered. She wanted to ask, a question poised on her lips. Instead, their eyes did the talking, dancing their dance as green met green. She had told him she didn’t want a second date, that she didn’t see the two of them as compatible. That, given enough time, he would get sick of her. She needed him now, more than she needed air and the feeling had been bothering her for weeks.

‘Just once?’ He asked, reading her mind, and falling prey to her plan. He had to be the one to cave. Maybe, if only for a minute, Claire wanted to hold the power over him. For once, she wanted to be the cocky one self-assured by her wiles and his want for her. Just for a minute, Claire wanted to feel how Owen had felt when she had hissed at him before pressing up on her toes and giving in to a needy kiss.

She nodded and it was all he needed. Before they knew it, Owen’s mouth was on hers, soft lips and warm stubble against her silk cheeks. Claire opened to him easily, her walls crashing down before they touched as she revelled in the feeling of his arm sliding around her back to pull her body flush with his. She didn’t mean to whimper, but the sound released itself from her throat before she even felt the need. He had pulled it from her so effortlessly, one hand on the small of her back while the other slid up into her hair. His large thumb was stroking at her neck and behind her ear, hitting the base of her headband with every upward stroke. It fell from her head within seconds, toppling down the back of her skull where Owen finally freed it and tossed it into the night.

Claire wanted to be consumed by him, standing in heels in the gravel, pushing up onto her toes, her hands gripping onto his shirt, his vest, the bare skin of his neck and finding strands of his hair, here and there, everywhere all at once and not at all. She needed purchase, felt that maybe she could stand on the seat of his bike and tower over him like a goddess. She wanted to be with him, near him, one with his heart beating in his chest. She had always wondered what it would feel like to be so deep in desire that the only need that throbbed within her was to crawl into the cracks of another body and bury herself inside of them. She wondered if he felt like that when their clothes were gone when he had the chance to push the core of himself into her warmth. Did he feel whole? Did it shroud him in a blissful feeling or only partly? Could she do that for someone and could she feel loved in the same way?

She stopped her hands on his cheeks, lips pulling away from his as Owen chased her mouth. This wasn’t love, Claire needed to remind herself. Gulping in deep breaths she let the chill of the night wash over her. This was lust, pure and raw but nothing more than that.

‘You alright?’ He asked, breathless and panting. There was a heavy hand on her hip, long thick fingers having slid themselves inside her skirt, sitting against her bare flesh and burning there. Her nod was easy as she filled it with a reassuring smile. She was drawn away for a second, worried by her thoughts before she pushed back into him, meeting his lust with hers and challenging the strength of the man’s worship.

Impatient hands found the zip on her skirt, leaving fat fingers to pull on the tag. She was almost ready to shimmy out of it when laughter met her ears and Owen’s body tensed around hers. She couldn’t move. Only stood still as the sound of people past them. ‘They didn’t see us.’ He offered, redoing the zip as his hands slid around to the front of her waist. ‘But, do you … ah, do you think we should take this elsewhere?’ Even in the light of night, she could see the warmth on his cheeks and arousal in his eyes.

‘Is your bike safe?’ She asked, partly stepping away from it as she assessed his vehicle. ‘I’ve never ridden one before.’ Her statement was almost an insinuation. Even though her car was in the lot with everyone else's nearby, Claire was choosing this.

‘Mostly.’ He answered with a shrug. Sometimes it stuttered, faltering at high speeds and promising to send him flying. Hell, it was a motorcycle. It wasn’t all that safe. She could see his hesitancy, wasn’t sure if he wanted her on it. Didn’t know if he could keep her safe. ‘My bungalow isn’t far from here.’ And yet, they could just as easily walk to her apartment. ‘I’ll go slow.’ He told her with a wink, his hand lingering on her hip as he moved for the bike. ‘You want me to teach you?’ He asked, more so he could get her to ride in front of him. Owen knew too, that Claire was a curious creature and if a learning opportunity showed itself, she would be more than happy to take it.

He dropped to his knees when she nodded, kneeling in the dirt as his hands found the backs of her thighs. She had tried to push her skirt up earlier, ready to climb onto his bike and Owen stopped her. Now, he was sure the action was necessary as his hands found the fabric and slid it further up her thighs.

‘You’re not wearing underwear, are you?’ He asked, the question lingering on his mind.

Looking down at him with her teeth on her lip, Claire shook her head. Owen’s groan was animalistic, his forehead falling to her skin. She could feel him concentrating on deep breaths as his hands gripped tightly to her skin. ‘Fuck,’ drifted from his lips quietly, mouth grazing against her thigh before he kissed the skin there, just below the fabric of her skirt. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’

She grinned, ‘Maybe’.

Just like that, he was on his feet again, patting the seat of his gunmetal Triumph Scrambler and telling her to hop on.

His bike was broad and thrilling beneath her thighs but was nothing compared to the feeling of Owen behind her. His chest was strong, solid as he wrapped himself around her, holding her to him tightly as his arms reached for the handlebars. The machine roared to life, eliciting a short gasp from Claire in her surprise. She had been too focused on him, the man around her, rather than the thing they were on. Owen chuckled in her ear, the sound deep and vibrating with the bike as it send shivers down her spine. It pooled in her gut, building with white-hot arousal as she lost herself in the feeling of his cheek against hers.

‘Hold on tight.’ His words were punctuated with the squeeze of his arms against her sides. The engine roared, rumbling beneath their bodies as Claire felt a shift in Owen behind her.

It was with unspeakable ease that Owen navigated them though barely used service roads. He was the only thing down that way of the island. Claire was sure that one day the park would extend to his little alcove and encroach on his space, eventually pushing Owen out and into apartment living. She wondered if he would still be there by then or if the choice between his job and his solitude would be what it took to make him quit.

She had to give him kudos for the location. It was peaceful out there. Still. In the distance she could hear the calls and chatter of ancient beasts, happily settling down for their quiet lives away from entertaining. The first time she was out there the serenity and raw purity of it reminded Claire of her early days on the island before it was finished when the waterfalls and jungles were left to that of bright-minded interns. Now, they were overcrowded and tainted by the footprint of tourists. But, Owen’s bungalow and the land it sat on seemed to have that untouched feel. It was just him out there, his bike, and the fish in the lake. He lived around the dinosaurs, able to hear them but never see them like they were a closely guarded secret that hovered over his life. She lived for the magic of it and wondered if she had known this could have been a choice, would she have asked for a house of her own in a secluded part of the park? He might just let her share it, if she asked nicely, setting out a plot of land across from his bungalow where she could build a more liveable abode. But then, it would mean Owen Grady was her neighbour and Claire wasn’t sure how close she wanted him. Then again … in situations like this night, it would have been handy having him only a few steps away.

‘You alright?’ Owen asked, his body peeling away from hers until he was standing in the grass by the bike, concerned eyes watching her. Smudged on his cheeks was the faint hint of her drawn-on whiskers, his nose marked too. She hadn’t noticed it before they left, her mind a little dazed from their kisses, but now she saw it as clear as day. Claire grinned, feeling every inch of the fond and joyous emotion that filled her as she leant in to kiss him once again.

She had missed him, even in their short ride. Her lips had almost forgotten the warm pressure of his and the impatient push of his tongue. This was it, they were alone now, left to the vacancy of his island home where they could do and be as they please without disturbance. Claire didn’t miss a beat. With her arms around his neck, she lifted her leg, sliding it past the fuel tank as she drew her body closer to his. Owen stopped her before her foot joined the other, her heel clicking against the tank as his hand touched the skin of her knee. ‘I just gotta …’ He mumbled against her lips, breaking their kiss as he dropped to his knees. His lips peppered kisses up her legs, jumping from one to the next as his hand held her knee still bent above the body of his bike.

It was her easy laughter that caused him to smile, grinning as he climbed up her legs with fat kisses until he met the twitching skin of her upper thighs. Her giggles faded into an easy moan when Owen closed his mouth over her sex.

Fingers scratched the leather of the bike seat, Claire desperate for something to hold onto as her body teetered on the edge. It felt like the world was moving around her in slow motion as Owen dragged his tongue across the sensitive flesh of her labia, setting Claire into a world of impatient agony as the fire within her kept sparking but failed to ignite. It wasn’t because she wasn’t thrilled with what he was doing, but because he was moving to torture her rather than pleasure, stroking but not quite hitting the spot that would send her into oblivion.

Owen shifted, moving his weight on his knees so he could reach his hands up her back, holding her steady as Claire leaned into the touch, trapped in her position as her hips cantered against his face. She moaned sound long and low stretching out into the silent night air around them without a single worry of being overheard.

He had freed her, sexual liberation wracking her body as Claire threw her head back, leaving her neck bare to the skies and filling the stars with her impatient cries. She felt brave, lifting a hand from its indent on his bike seat to bury it in Owen’s hair. Her nails scratched, trying to convey in movement what her throat wouldn’t let out. He was grinning, sly as a fox between her thighs with a chuckle on her skin that made her fingers dig deeper. Owen pulled it from her, beckoning each cry with a flick of his tongue, the hand still holding her thigh, rubbing soothing lines against her skin as she grew louder and less restrained.

Owen didn’t let up until she had doubled over, hands clinging to his back as she lay bowed over his head. She was panting in his ear, leg shaking in his hand as her fingers twitched against his back pulling on the shirt he wore before briefly releasing it. It took Claire several minutes to catch her breath and find her strength before her hands pushed against Owen’s shoulders to right herself. He was grinning when she met his eyes, looking up at her like she held the world in the palm of her hands.

‘There’s my kitten,’ he grinned, voice rough as he pushed himself up into a stand. Claire had thought, back at the party, that Owen had discarded her cat-eared headband. But, when he placed it back on her head, pushing her bangs back with it she realised that assumption had been wrong.

Claire wanted to roll her eyes and tell him she wasn’t his. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. She liked being his in situations like this. Claire felt treasured, adored, respected even. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be his full-time. But for brief moments, she enjoyed what could come from being in Owen’s inner rings.

He kissed her, distracting Claire from her thoughts as she tasted herself on his needy tongue.

‘Inside. Now.’ She growled against his lips, pushing against him a little as she found the strength to challenge him. The sound he made in response was a mournful whimper. She felt it settle against her bones as his hands held her hips tightly. If Owen had his way with it, he would have fucked her against his bike to fulfil some playboy wet dream. For now, she was happy to deny him. ‘It’s cold,’ She whined back, shivering for emphasis as she nipped at his bottom lip.

The rest was a blur. Moving from the bike to Owen’s bungalow, shedding their clothes and landing in his bed. She could remember him faltering with the clasps and ties, the inconvenience stalling them for a minute until he figured it out. His frustrated grunts puffed against her neck, sending goosebumps down her spine as she sat patiently waiting to be undressed.

If anything, Owen was overqualified in making up for the lost time. His touch was hot, heavy, and knew exactly where to pinch, flick and soothe. He was everywhere all at once, overwhelming her senses now that she didn’t have to worry about falling off his bike. Her skin was bare and sensitive to him, his calloused hands, his coarse hair. He was bigger than she was dizzyingly so as he hovered above her.

‘You ready?’ He asked like his fingers weren’t currently sitting sticky on the outside of her thigh. She could feel him, just there, hovering, hesitating, waiting for Claire to make the call. ‘I remember it wasn’t a comfy fit last time.’ There was concern in his eye but mirth on his lips. The bastard was happy with himself that he was almost too much for her. She gave him a small nod, affirmation but chose to not entertain his last comment. His ego was being stroked enough with her presence.

She gave him a small nod as she rolled her eyes and forced a scoff in response to his last comment. ‘You’re too much.’

‘I mean, you didn’t exactly complain last time. And, here you are, in my bed again. I’d say, Claire Dearing, I’m exactly what you want.’ He kissed her cheek, the gesture fond and familial more than any of the others had been. ‘You like that too-full feeling, don’t you?’ He punctuated with a sharp thrust forward, one hand holding her hip down as the other guided himself inside of her. She grunted, eyes rolling again, this time in a mix between pleasure and pain as Owen withdrew. A second grunt game with his next thrust, twisting into a moan as he slid deeper, stretching her inner walls in a way that had her coming back for more.

He wasn’t wrong. She was an addict for it, driven for the next opportunity as her body longed in between each experience. They had only had sex once and yet she was sniffing him out, luring him into it just so she could see if that slight discomfort would return for a few seconds more. And oh, how it did.

Claire couldn’t feel anything beyond the throb of the man pushing in and out of her centre. His erection was hot and showing no signs of relenting as she rolled her hips against his, adjusting to the feeling. Owen lived for every pant and moan that escaped her lips with each inward thrust. The sigh she released when he pulled out of her fully, body relaxing for a split second before he pushed forward again, pulling another grunt from her throat. He groaned, sound gritty and dry as he succumbed to the warmth of her body.

Owen knew he needed to savour it. That the first time was sheer luck and, this had to be an impossible daydream. It was Halloween after all, maybe some island witch had put a spell on him and he would wake up naked, alone and feeling all too empty. Claire Dearing wasn’t the kind of woman who lingered in the presence of men. She struck once, like lightning, shining white-hot energy into his life for a flash before she was gone. A second go-round? This was rare enough. He had mapped every freckle on the inside of her legs, from the small patch on her stomach up to the ones that speckled her chest. She was without imperfections, perfect from head to toe in silk-like skin that smelt like a dream. Maybe it was a dream, she responded to every touch, every push, every twitch and every graze of his hand. Her body sighed, moaned, whimpered and cried. She arched into him, pushed back or rocked her hips in time. Surely, he was dreaming all that? He couldn’t be that good for her. Not the elusive Dearing. Not the woman he wanted to bag but knew he never could.

Distracted, Claire managed to overpower him. Owen’s back hit the mattress before he realised what had happened. She was grinning above him, happy as a fat cat as her lips tugged on his bottom one, teeth not letting him go. Owen growled, hands squeezing at her thighs. He didn’t like having his power taken away, not as she set the pace above him. But, this was Claire, stretched out, sitting in his lap, nothing but smooth skin from the plains of her stomach to the curve of her breasts. This he liked, this he could live with if it was Claire taking him out for a ride.

Her hand was cautious on his chest, fingers barely touching as she rocked her hips against his. She was trying to hold herself up, to keep herself steady as she set a torturously slow pace. He wanted to overthrow her, regain control and show her how it was done but there was a concentration set on Claire’s brow that stopped him.

She was close, unbearably so. Claire’s eyes were pinched shut and her bottom lip was held between her teeth, slightly gnawing on it as she moved her weight towards the hand on his chest. Her hips moved over his, rolling and moving in figure-eights as he tried his best not to buck into her and throw the woman off. She was mesmerising. Not that she wasn’t already. Owen had been infatuated with her for years, but this felt like a special viewing. Like he was privy to a side of Claire not many had the privilege to see. He watched her, feeling lucky that he had the chance, head surrounded by his pillows as the moonlight snuck in through the blinds to illuminate her hair.

Men in the navy spoke about sirens, beautiful women who lured them into the sea. Owen wasn’t sure they existed, along with any mythology but he was sure Claire had it in her. A sirens song, beckoning him to the depths of nothingness on false promises of forever with her. She was a goddess, full of power and strength. A woman unlike any other.

His hands were soft on her hips, thumbs rubbing easily lines against her skin until one drifted, broke away at the sound of her frustrated sigh. Something just wasn’t hitting the spot she needed, Claire grinding against him relentlessly, searching for the release they were both expecting to receive. His hand slid past her belly, flat palm to her skin as he felt the muscles beneath it twitch at his touch. Still, she didn’t sense what he was doing until his thumb rolled over her clit.

‘Fuck,’ she swore into the dark of his bedroom, the word and feeling overtaking her. Owen did it again, slower, purposely driven. She hissed, body leaning into his touch. He felt something inside her clamp down, the warmth of her body gripping onto his. The sensation alone nearly sent Owen over the edge, his arousal suddenly returning to him like it had been living behind a veil for the last few minutes.

Owen echoed her sentiment, overcome with his need as his body honed into every inch of hers. His thumb rolled once again, flicking at the sensitive bundle of nerves on the return to its resting place. She jumped, body caught off guard by the electricity he sent sparking through her nervous system. She rocked forward, chasing the sensation as her cries stung together in a needy, desperate sound. She was right on the edge, rocking herself harder and faster as a brave hand found his wrist and pushed it down her belly. She wanted his hand right where her desire was pooling, sure his touch could set off the release she was looking for.

He was never one to deny the primal urges of a sexual partner. If that’s what she wanted, it was what she got. Most of the time those urges are never wrong. Owen’s hand was steady, broad as his fingers slid past her slick skin, feeling where their bodies met for a brief moment before he drew his touch back to the epicentre of her lust. He could hear it, the end of oblivion mounting her cries as Claire’s back straightened and her neck laid bare to the cool air.

She fell from the heavens, shuddering as she persisted in keeping herself upright. Owen was nothing but a spectator. He brought her to that ledge and tugged her over it. What he would give to continue to be a bystander to this glorious oblivion, her moan echoing in his ears as Owen swore he heard his name whispered on her lips. He was high on it, head spinning as she twitched, hips rolling slowly, trying to chase the ends of her orgasm, prolonging it for as long as she could.

The patter of rain on his roof startled him but not as much as Claire’s sweet breathless chuckle. The sound radiated from her as her body returned from its high, slowly crumbling into a neat, vanilla-scented pile on his chest. The rain carried on.

‘Can I stay here tonight?’ She asked quietly, hips shifting with his erection still straining inside of her. Owen hadn’t thought about how she would get home or where exactly her car was parked. All he knew was that he drove her here. Maybe she had planned to walk and the rain had now ruined that idea. Nevertheless, she was asking if she could stay here at his bungalow with him.

His hand snaked down her bare back, counting her ribs as he tried to distract himself. ‘Yeah,’ he cleared his throat, a lump forming around his words. ‘You can stay. Whenever you want, always, hell, you don’t even need to ask.’ Owen couldn’t shut his mouth, words flying here and there, his body useless to catch them. Claire smiled at him, her head propped up by her hands as she leaned on his chest. Her kitten whiskers were still in place and the smudge on her nose stubbornly remained. It made her smile all the sweeter as her green eyes shone just for him.

‘Good.’ Claire hummed, moving to press her lips to his as she sat up once again. Owen was mournful of the loss of her body against his and then deeper again when he felt her pull away from him. She wasn’t gone long. Her fingers picked up an immediate trail just below his belly button, nails dragging south.

He flinched when her lips met the base of his cock, sliding around his flesh as her nails dug into his thigh. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to, that he didn’t expect it. But, one-touch and he was an addict, drawn to the velvet of her lips and silk of her tongue. His head fell back, eyes closing when he felt her take him into her mouth, lips sliding down his shaft as Owen felt the tip of his erection touch the back of her throat. It was all sensation after that, he couldn’t speak, could only roll his eyes into the back of his head and gasp for air. It was like their roles had reversed. It was now Claire with the impatient touch and the greedy kiss. Each move was calculated, her hand twisting, applying pressure to the base of his cock as her tongue worked on teasing the sensitive tip. He felt her everywhere, his skin on fire with her touch, never wanting it to end but desperate to kiss her again.

Claire was goal orientated. Nothing was getting between her and Owen’s orgasm, even when he pulled at her arms with needy little sounds. She only shook her head or stopped to level him with a menacing glare. He was weak for it, trying again just to catch the stern glare of her gaze so he could link it back to all the times she had looked at him in that way outside of a sexual setting. He was going to find himself with an erection every time he stopped listening in a project meeting from now on until the end of time.

It was the thought of Claire glaring at him in one of her tight business skirts, not unlike the one she wore tonight, that finally pushed him over the edge. He got that. Corporate woman putting him in his place, making him weak at the knees, letting him fuck her. That Claire handed herself over to him willingly that night. The setting would have been all the sweeter if it had been in her office, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and Owen was just as happy with his bungalow. Not to mention his bike.

She grinned at him like the cat who got the canary, his ejaculate dripping down her chin. Owen still wasn’t sure who was smiling down on him as he reached for her, taking her face in his hands and she crawled back up his body until they were chin to chin. ‘Sorry,’ Claire apologised. ‘I really wanted to do that.’

He had no complaints. Maybe he had one. She would eventually get up from his bed and never return. He wondered briefly if it was too late to make an offering to whichever spirits were currently haunting their island.

Owen didn’t want to force Claire to stay but he certainly wanted to see her return of her own accord. Then again, he had seemingly learned enough about her to maybe woo her once again.

#clawen #jurassic world #clawen fic #Claire Dearing #Owen Grady #pre jw #despite the odds

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