Carrison One-Shots

Stolen Kisses, Pretty Lies

His weight on top of hers is astounding. His hands travel the length of her torso, gripping her waist, pinning her harder to the mattress. Her head falls back instantaneously, feeling him, all of him, pressed against her. He is kissing along her neck, then her jawline, brushing his nose on her soft skin, his hot breath sending shivers through her entire body. She grips the sheets hard, harder, harder until her fingers hurt and her mind loses itself in his movements.

Carrie sighs loudly, and he looks at her alarmed. His eyes dart upward, shifting through the entire dimly lit room.

No one, no sounds.

Just them.

She smiles apologetically, she still can't be quieter. He returns the smile and goes back to what he was previously doing: kissing her senseless. He starts by her stomach, leaving a trail of small, wet kisses on her skin, and rising up to her chest. Her intake of breath lasts for about two seconds before she feels his lips. She takes a hand to his head, caressing his soft hair absentmindedly.

He then crawls up to her face, kissing her lips swiftly, making her taste the saltiness of her sweat. He brings a hand to her face, running his fingers through her blushed cheeks, laying his thumb on her bottom lip.

She's wonderstruck.

As she doesn't say a word, Harrison gazes into her hazel eyes, waiting for her to do something. But what he doesn't know is that she can't. She isn't able to. It's a physical sickness.

Harrison Ford.

How much she loves him. She loves Harrison. She loves it when his hair falls in his face, how dashing and handsome he looks. She loves listening to his laugh whenever she manages a witty remark. She loves how his presence is immediately felt when he walks into a room. It's intimidating, but oh so very sexy. And when someone from the crew says something inappropriate and he seeks out to exchange an eye-roll – she loves that too. She loves his smile, how beautiful it is, even when it's droopy. And his eyes, how could she forget, how soothing and exciting they are at the same time.

There is only one thing that she doesn't love about him. Her.

She hates being second choice and she hates not being the one he comes home to.

But now, lying amidst sheets and pillows, she feels like maybe, just maybe, she won him over. However, there is always that ever-present feeling of being too young, too inexperienced, too immature, too... Carrie.

"Darling..." he stares at her expectantly. "You make me insane."

And they're kissing again, mouths sliding on top of each other and hearts pounding faster than usual. They roll over so that Carrie is on top of him, never breaking the kiss. She manages to find his hand amongst all the limbs and dampness, interlacing her fingers with his. His free hand skims her smooth leg, gripping it harder when she sucks on his bottom lip. She's always wanted to do that.

She suddenly stops, worried, self-conscious.

Is she enough? What does he like? Was that even sexy, or was it just plain awkward?

"Hey, hey, what's the matter?" she gets up and sits on the bed beside him. She hugs herself close and runs her hands through her hair. The wine is definitely clouding her judgement. He could never be remotely interested in someone like her.

"Nothing. This –" she gestures around, to both of them. "Is clearly a mistake." His brow furrows and she has to contain a stray tear from falling.

"Dear, I don't know what I did, but I'm sure it wasn't that bad to make you think that we are a mistake." He smiles, tugging her hand, inciting her to come to bed.

"It's not you. You, you're intelligent and kind and well, very handsome," she blushes as he grins cockily at her.

"You don't want to do this." He says, matter-of-factly.

"It's not that I don't want this, it's just," he raises his eyebrows, pinning a lock from her hair behind her ear. "I don't know how." She throws her hands up in an exasperated way, kicking herself mentally for embarrassing herself in frankly one of the most important nights of her life.

"Carrie..." he kisses her cheek. "Never," he kisses her eyelids, closing her eyes. "Ever," grabbing her by the waist, leading her onto his lap. "Say that again." Her legs wrap around his body and he kisses her lips once more. Her hands venture to his hair, landing on his neck, feeling the warmth of the skin. As she is bewitched yet again, her voice can't help but shout:

"I can't even kiss properly!"

And suddenly the silent room is alive with a fit of giggles.

Harrison falls backwards, bringing his hands to his chest, to prevent him from laughing too much. All the while, Carrie's body is still on top of his, now in a much more dangerous position.

Her body is burning with desire, lust and love, but she still can't stop the fact that she is in a bed with her wildest dream.

"It's true and you know it! That thing I did earlier, wasn't it... weird?" he keeps laughing until he realizes she's getting impatient now, more nervous than before.

"What? This?" he meets her halfway and their lips press to each other's again. This time, he is the one who envelops her bottom lip, bitting it slightly, and proceeding to suck on it gently. The feeling that overcomes her body is such an intense and utterly new one.

As he pulls away, he sees her wholly dumbfounded expression.

"Did you like it? Or was it weird?" she snickers and shrugs. She couldn't tell him how he made her feel.

"Come on, now. Where were we?"