Title: Where The Light Enters You
Rating: R
Pairing: Claire Dearing x Owen Grady
Warnings: Mentions of past animal and child abuse, physical and emotional not sexual
Summary: She follows an impulse, leans down and kisses the scar, very softly, and Owen inhales, making a sound deep in his chest midway between embarrassment and pleasure. But he doesn’t pull away, so she wraps her arms around his waist and lays soft, deepening kisses along the exposed plain of his back until his breath has tightened in his chest, and he abruptly turns to kiss her so deeply she forgets all about his scars for a while.
[In the immediate aftermath of the events of Jurassic World, Claire and Owen stick together - and discover they have more in common than they realised.]
Note: This was meant to be a short sexy bit of fluff in anticipation of seeing Fallen Kingdom and somehow turned into 5000+ words of Claire and Owen bonding over shared childhood trauma. Um… oops?
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They set up in the hotel room Claire’s put up in immediately after escaping the island.
All the resort workers are sent to one hotel, while the park guests are triaged in two others. Owen has his own room two floors down, but Claire’s is bigger – bigger bathroom, better minibar, bigger bed.
Plus it’s gonna take a lot for Owen to let Claire out of his sight right now, and Claire keeps one hand on his wrist the whole time like she’s scared another dinosaur’s gonna drop out of the sky and carry him off. So he comes with her back to her room, like it’s not even a question that that’s where he’ll go – props his rifle against the closed door while Claire heads straight for the shower.
He orders cheeseburgers while she’s cleaning herself up, and puts on the TV and tries to find something – anything – that is not about the park. In the end he finds a corny old musical, and leaves that on with the sound down low. He figures it’s the sort of thing Claire will like, and at least there’s nothing even remotely reptilian in sight.
When she emerges from the shower, small in a courtesy hotel bathrobe, her hair and skin still damp, she smells so good he wants to press his face to her neck immediately, but she pushes him away with a stern look – belied slightly by the flush in her cheeks and the bright, easy look in her eyes.
“No. I’m clean. And you smell awful.”
“You absolutely did not care about that a few hours ago.”
