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isthatmyjacket-covenofchaossq · 3 days ago

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licking away the dirt (g!p version) - Zora Bennett x reader

summary: you're a scientist accompanying Zora through the island to get some dinosaur samples but all you can think about is to lick all that dirt and sweat from her body.

tags: I don't even know how to tag this lol - smut, filthy (in every sense of the word, I guess), oral sex, fingering

men/minors dni

The air was a thick, wet blanket you had to chew through, tasting of chlorophyll and decay. Isla Nublar breathed around you, a living, monstrous thing, and every rustle in the undergrowth was a potential death sentence. But the most dangerous thing in this jungle, the predator that had your absolute, undivided attention, was the woman walking ten feet ahead.

Zora Bennett.

Even her name was a sin on your tongue. She moved like a liquid shadow, her every step sure and silent on the damp earth. A fine sheen of sweat plastered her dark tank top to the hard-muscled planes of her back, a roadmap of sinews and strength that made your mouth go dry. Mud, a rich, dark brown, caked her tactical pants and smeared a streak across one high, sharp cheekbone. A smudge of grime kissed the corded column of her throat, right above the racing pulse you couldn't stop staring at.

Duncan was saying something up ahead, his voice a low, urgent murmur about proximity to the nesting grounds. You should have been listening. You were the goddamn biologist, the one who was supposed to be analyzing spore samples and identifying toxic flora. Instead, your brain was a useless, humming hive of a single, all-consuming thought.

*I want to lick her clean.*

The thought was an electric shock, hot and shameful and so intensely powerful it rooted you to the spot. Your fingers, slick inside your tactical gloves, twitched. You imagined kneeling before her, right here in the primordial filth of this jungle. You’d start with that smudge on her cheek, your tongue darting out to taste the salt of her sweat, the grit of the earth. Would she taste like power? Like the storm brewing in the bruised-purple sky overhead?

Zora stopped, holding up a hand. The gesture was crisp, efficient. A silent command for the team to halt. You nearly walked right into her, catching yourself at the last second, your breath hitching. She smelled of rain and iron and something uniquely, intoxicatingly *her*.

"We're close," she whispered, her voice a low thrum that vibrated straight through your bones and settled deep in your belly. She didn’t look at you. Her gaze, sharp as obsidian shards, scanned the dense wall of ferns and cycads ahead. "Stay sharp."

*Stay sharp?* The irony was a bitter laugh trapped in your throat. You were as dull as a stone, blunted by a fantasy so vivid you could almost feel the rough texture of her skin against your tongue, the slide of sweat and dirt yielding to your mouth. You imagined working your way down, over the taut line of her jaw, to that pulse fluttering in her neck. You’d lick away the grime there, slowly, methodically, feeling her heartbeat quicken against your lips. You’d clean every inch of her, a reverent, filthy baptism, until she was gleaming and gasping under your ministrations.

"You getting this?"

Zora’s head had turned just enough, one piercing eye pinning you. She hadn't moved, hadn't broken her predator's stance, but her focus was now a laser beam aimed directly at you. A flicker of... something... crossed her face. Annoyance? Concern? You couldn’t tell. Your mind was too full of the imagined taste of her collarbones, the salty valley between her breasts.

"Y-yeah," you managed to stammer out, your voice cracking like a dry twig. "Yeah, Zora. Got it. Sharp."

A low growl, deep and guttural, echoed from the trees ahead. It wasn't human. It was big, hungry, and close. Duncan swore under his breath, raising his rifle. But your heart was pounding for an entirely different reason.

Because Zora turned fully toward you, a silent question in her eyes. And in that moment, all you could think was that if you were going to be eaten by a dinosaur, your last regret would be dying without ever knowing if Zora Bennett tasted as divine as you imagined.

(...)

The cave was a welcome wound in the mountainside, a dark, damp respite from the relentless humidity and the things with teeth that hunted in it. Duncan found it, a blessedly defensible position with a single entrance and a steady drip of filtered water in the back that you all agreed was the sweetest thing you'd ever tasted. A small, smokeless fire pushed back the oppressive darkness, its flames painting dancing, distorted shadows on the slick obsidian walls. The air was cool, smelling of wet stone and ozone. Safe. For now.

Duncan was out in moments, his snores a soft rumble against the vast, terrifying silence of the island night. He was a good man, a rock. But your mind wasn't on him. It was on the silhouette framed by the cave's mouth.

Zora.

She’d taken the first watch without a word, a rifle resting comfortably in her lap as she stared out into the blue-black jungle. She was a gargoyle carved from granite and shadow, utterly still, utterly vigilant. You tried to sleep. You closed your eyes, rolled over on your bedroll, but the image of her was seared onto the backs of your eyelids: the sweat on her skin, the mud on her cheek, the raw power humming off her in waves. The fantasy from the jungle returned, more potent now in the quiet dark, your tongue tingling with the ghost of a taste you’d never had.

Sleep was impossible.

Your movements were quiet as you rose, your bare feet cold against the stone floor. You approached her back, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. She didn't turn, but you knew she'd heard you from the first shift of your weight.

"Couldn't sleep?" Her voice was a low murmur, softer than before, stripped of its battlefield urgency.

"Thought you might want some company," you whispered, sinking down to sit on the rock beside her. Not touching, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, a furnace against the cave's chill.

For a long moment, you just sat in silence, watching the jungle breathe.

"You're not like the others they usually saddle me with," Zora said, her eyes still fixed on the darkness. "The scientists. You're quiet. You watch."

"It's my job to observe," you replied, a half-truth. "I see things. The way a leaf curls when it's toxic. The patterns of bioluminescent fungi." You hesitated, then took the plunge. "The way someone holds themselves when they're carrying the weight of the world."

That made her turn. In the flickering firelight, her eyes weren't just sharp; they were deep, holding galaxies of exhaustion and a history you couldn't begin to fathom. A small, humorless smile touched her lips.

"Is that what I look like?"

"You look like you've been fighting for a very long time," you said, your voice barely audible. "I... I get it. In a way. My whole life has been in labs. Sterile, controlled. I took this job because I was suffocating. I needed to feel something real, even if it killed me."

The confession hung in the air between you, fragile and shockingly honest. You expected her to scoff, to turn away. Instead, she just watched you, her gaze intense, searching.

"My mother had a garden," she said, so quietly you almost missed it. "Roses. Tiny little ones, you could hold a whole bloom on your fingertip. She'd spend all day in the dirt. Said it was the only place the world made sense." She finally looked away, back out at the jungle. "Funny. Her ending up in the dirt, me ending up in the mud."

The vulnerability in that admission, that tiny crack in her armor, was more intimate than any touch. The air thickened, charged with everything unsaid. The tension wasn't just in your head anymore; it was a living thing in the space between you, coiling and tightening. She seemed to feel it too. Her posture had softened, her shoulders losing some of their rigid set. She was paying attention to you now. Not as a mission asset, but as... something else.

Her eyes drifted from the jungle back to your face, and this time, they didn't just look. They roamed. They traced the line of your lips, lingered on your throat, and when they met your own gaze again, they were dark with a new, startling awareness.

"You're staring," she murmured, and it wasn't an accusation. It was a statement of fact, laced with a low, dangerous hum of curiosity.

"So are you," you breathed back, and the sound of your own voice, thick with want, was the only permission either of you needed. The world snapped shut, shrinking to this single, searing point in time. The jungle, the dinosaurs, the mission; it all evaporated like mist in the face of the storm gathering in Zora's eyes.

Her gaze dropped to your mouth, a slow, deliberate act of ownership. "And what, exactly, are you thinking about so hard?" she asked, her voice dropping into a husky, predatory register that made the fine hairs on your arms stand on end. "You've been looking at me all day like you want to eat me alive."

The directness of it should have shocked you, but it only stoked the fire. All pretense was gone. "Maybe I do," you whispered, your own voice trembling with a need so profound it ached in your teeth. "You're filthy."

The words hung in the air, a dirty, perfect prayer. A slow, wicked smile spread across Zora's lips. It was the most terrifying and arousing thing you had ever seen. She leaned in, her breath ghosting across your skin, smelling of ration bars and pure, undiluted power.

"Am I?" she murmured against your ear, her lips brushing the sensitive shell. A full-body shiver wracked you. "Show me."

The command echoed in the silent cave: "Show me." It was a challenge, a promise, and a key unlocking a cage inside you you hadn't even known existed. Your hands rose, trembling, to cup Zora's grime-smeared face. The fantasy you'd nurtured all day in the sweltering jungle heat was about to become reality.

Your tongue darted out, tracing the dirt on her cheek. The taste of salt, earth, and Zora sent a shock straight to your core. A low, satisfied rumble vibrated in your chest, and your eyes closed in surrender.

"Fuck, yes," she growled. "Just like that."

You were wild, a creature of pure need. You licked a clean path down her jaw, over the frantic pulse in her throat, your mission to cleanse her with your mouth. She let you, for a moment, before her control snapped. Her hand tangled brutally in your hair, pulling your head back. Her mouth crashed against yours, the kiss intense and demanding.

When she broke the kiss, you were both panting, foreheads pressed together. "You think you know what you want?" she said, her voice husky and deep. "You have no idea."

Her hand slid from your hair, down your front, but instead of touching you, she grabbed your wrist. Her grip was iron. She pulled your hand down, away from her chest, past the hard surface of her stomach, and pressed it firmly against the front of her pants.

You froze.

Beneath the fabric was something. It was long, thick, and impossibly hard. A heavy, throbbing cock pressed insistently against your palm. Your mind short-circuited. Your breath hitched. You looked from your hand on her crotch to her face. Her eyes were black holes of pure lust, and a slow, cruel, and utterly arousing smile spread across her lips.

"There's something a little... dirty down here too," she purred, her hips giving a light, deliberate thrust against your palm. "Think that talented mouth of yours can handle a bigger cleaning job?"

The world tilted on its axis. Shock, awe, and a wave of desperate, degenerate desire washed over you.

"On your knees," she commanded, her voice dropping to a low whisper that left no room for disobedience.

You practically fell to your knees before her. The stone was cool against your knees, but you barely felt it. Your gaze was fixed on her as she undid her belt in one swift motion. She tugged at the fabric impatiently, exposing her erection.

She was magnificent. A thick, heavy cock sprang free, impossibly hard. It jutted between her legs, proud and intimidating, a drop of clear, glistening pre-cum already welling in the raging slit at its head. It was a weapon. A promise. And it was all for you.

"So?" she said, her voice deep and impatient. "Don't just stare. Suck it."

You leaned forward, your breath ghosting over the glistening tip. You flicked your tongue, savoring the first drop of her arousal. It was salty, divine. Zora hissed, her hands gripping your hair, her hips thrusting forward.

"Yes," she grunted. "Take it."

You obeyed. You took the head of her cock into your mouth, sucking gently, your tongue swirling around the sensitive crown. Zora's hips began to move, a slow, hypnotic rhythm, fucking your mouth.

"Fuck, you were made for this," she moaned, throwing her head back. "Look at you. My filthy little slut, on her knees, choking on my cock like you were born to do this."

Her words set you on fire. You took more of her, your throat stretching, your jaw aching with the most exquisite pleasure. Your hands came up to grip her muscular thighs, gripping them with your nails as she set the pace. She was relentless, withdrawing almost completely only to thrust back deep into your throat, over and over. Each thrust was a filthy prayer, each gasp of air an exhibition of her power.

"Swallow me whole," she growled, her pace growing faster, more frantic. "I want to feel you take every inch."

You could feel the tension building in her body, the way her thighs trembled beneath your hands. Her climax was near, a storm about to break.

"I'm going to come," she panted, her voice tight, her grip on your hair like a vise. "Open your throat for me, baby. Take it all. Show me how much you want it."

Your body went rigid. A raw, animalistic scream escaped you as she flooded the back of your throat with her thick, hot cum. You swallowed reflexively, absorbing everything she had to give, your eyes watering, a tear of pure, ecstatic submission tracing a path through the mess on your own cheek. You didn't stop moving your mouth until her last tremor had passed and she was on top of you, panting, completely exhausted.

You remained there, kneeling in a pool of your own drool, staring up at your war goddess. She stared at you, her eyes glazed, a look of raw possession on her face.

"Good girl," she said huskily, leaning down to run her finger over your swollen lips. "Don't move. We're just getting started."

(...)

"Yes!" The word was a raw, fragmented prayer, torn from your throat. You trembled on the cold stone floor, the ghostly sensation of Zora's cock filling your mouth so intense it brought you to the brink of orgasm. Your face was sticky, your heart was a wild drum against your ribs, and your eyes, wide with adoration, were fixed on the war goddess standing over you.

Zora's chest heaved, her magnificent cock slick and glistening in the firelight. Seeing her there, a devoted, sobbing wreck at your feet, lit a new fire in your eyes. This wasn't just about her release; it was about your complete and utter subjugation.

"You liked that, didn't you?" she purred, her voice a low, predatory rumble. "My good girl. So eager to please." She let her cock brush against your cheek in a slow, taunting caress before pulling back. The loss of contact made you moan.

"Do you want your reward?" she asked, her voice dropping to a deadly serious whisper. "Do you want me to fill you properly? Then prove you can handle it." Her eyes narrowed. "Turn around. Hands on the wall."

Your body obeyed without thinking. You positioned yourself quickly, planting your palms on the cool, damp stone, pushing your ass toward her like an explicit invitation. An offering. You were hers to use, hers to desecrate. You heard her step behind you, and the heat of her body was a palpable force.

SMACK!

The sound was like a gunshot in the silent cave. A hard, stinging blow landed squarely on your ass. You screamed, a jolt of pure pleasure and electric pain coursing through your body.

"This is mine," Zora growled, her voice right next to your ear. She slapped you again, harder this time, on the other side. "Every inch of you. Mine to mark. Mine to fuck."

You were panting, the burning already turning into a deep, welcome ache. You felt her press against you from behind, the huge, hot head of her cock nudging your entrance. It was slick with her own cum and saliva.

"Beg for it," she commanded.

"Please, Zora," you sobbed, thrusting your hips against her. "Please, fuck me. Fill me. Please."

"As you wish."

She grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your neck. With her other hand, she guided the tip of her cock to your entrance. She pushed. Slowly. Deliberately. You gasped as your body stretched to accommodate her, a burning, tearing sensation that was the most intense pain you had ever known. And also the most delicious. You were tight, but so wet for her, you took her inch by inch, agonizing and glorious.

When she was buried to the hilt, she stayed still for a moment, letting you feel the impossible fullness of her. She was a solid, living thing deep inside you, possessing you, stretching you, claiming you.

"Fuck!" you cried out, tears of ecstasy streaming down your face.

"That's it!" she grunted, and began to move. Her hips moved in a steady, brutal rhythm. Her hand remained locked in your hair, using it as a handle to slam your body against the cave wall with each powerful thrust.

"Look at you," she growled, quickening her pace. "Taking my cock like you were born for nothing else. My little sex toy."

As the pleasure built into an unbearable crescendo, her free hand came around, wrapping around your throat. Her grip wasn't meant to kill, but to control. To feel the frantic pulse of your life under her palm. To stifle the scream she knew was coming. You clawed at the stone wall as she fucked you harder, faster, her knuckles digging into your ass with every deep stroke.

"You feel that? You're so tight around me," she growled, her thumb pressing into your windpipe. "You're going to come for me, slut. You're going to scream into my hand."

Her thumb pressed harder. The world began to shrink to a pinpoint of glittering, overwhelming sensation. Her cock hitting your cervix, the sting on your ass, her hand on your throat, her filthy words in your ear, it all converged. Your back arched, your body locked tight, and a strangled, muffled scream tore from your lungs as your orgasm ripped through you. You convulsed violently around her cock, your release painting your inner thighs.

Feeling you come sent Zora over the edge. With a final, guttural roar, she emptied herself deep inside you, her body going rigid as she flooded your womb with her seed.

She collapsed against you, burying her face in your neck, both of you panting, slick with sweat. She stayed deep inside you, not pulling out.

She let you catch your breath for a moment before biting your shoulder, hard.

"That's a good girl," she whispered, her voice a ragged, triumphant rumble against your skin. "Now you know where you belong. Full of my cock and my come."

(...)

Hours bled together in a haze of blissful aches and the lingering scent of sex. You dozed fitfully at the mouth of the cave, your head pillowed on Zora's thigh as she kept watch, her hand resting proprietorially on your hair. The quiet rumble of Duncan’s snores was the only sound besides the jungle's symphony.

That rumble eventually sputtered and ceased, replaced by a groan and the rustle of a sleeping bag. "Zora?" Duncan’s voice was thick with sleep. "My watch."

Zora gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Go on," she murmured, her voice a low command meant only for you. "Back of the cave. Get some sleep." The unspoken promise in her words sent a fresh jolt of arousal through you.

You scrambled away, disappearing into the deeper shadows at the back of the cave as Duncan stumbled forward to take Zora's place by the fire. You heard their quiet exchange, the handover of the rifle, the report of a quiet watch. Then, Zora's footsteps, soft on the stone floor, approached.

You were already in your sleeping bag, the thin material a poor substitute for her heat. The bag zipped open. Zora slid in behind you, her body a furnace against your back. She was still fully dressed, the fabric of her pants and the soft cotton of her shirt an abrasive, erotic friction against your skin. For a moment, you just stood there, bathed in darkness and the sound of Duncan settling in just a few dozen meters away. Risk was a potent aphrodisiac.

Then Zora's arm snaked around you, pulling you impossibly against her chest. Her lips found the sensitive skin behind your ear. "Did you miss me?" she whispered, her breath hot and promising.

You turned in the cramped space to face her. "Desperately," you breathed, your hands coming up to cup her face, your thumbs tracing the strong line of her jaw.

Her mouth found yours in the darkness. This kiss wasn't the brutal conquest it had been before. It was slow, deep, and infinitely more possessive. Her tongue invaded your mouth, a lazy, trusting exploration. It was a kiss that said you are mine. You kissed her back with desperate, hungry adoration, your fingers tangling in her hair.

You felt a familiar hardness pressing against your belly. Zora broke the kiss, her breathing already heavy. "I'm not done with you," she growled, her voice a low vibration against your lips. "Not even close."

She shifted, and you heard the hiss of her zipper. Her cock sprang free, hot and heavy, pressing against your belly. Even in the near darkness, you could feel its size, its heat. Your hands immediately reached for it, wrapping around the thick, smooth shaft. It throbbed in your hands.

"That's it, sweetheart," Zora praised, her voice a husky whisper. "You know what you want."

You didn't need anyone to tell you. You released her cock only to turn onto your stomach, arching your back slightly in the small space of the sleeping bag, and pushing your ass against her crotch. You shifted, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your own pants and pulling them down enough to bare your hips, to release yourself for her. Your hole, still slick and aching from the previous fuck, begged for her.

Zora chuckled softly, a low, naughty sound. "Such a slut, so hungry for my cock."

Her hand guided it to your entrance. You were so ready, so open, that she slid inside you with a single, slow, magnificent thrust. A gasp escaped your throat, which you stifled against her arm. She filled you completely, her hips flush against your ass, her cock buried to the hilt inside you.

Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against her chest as she began to fuck you. The rhythm was slow, deep, and silent. It wasn't the frantic, desperate fucking of before. This was an act of ownership, a deep, grinding claim made just feet away from your oblivious companion.

"That's right," she whispered directly into your ear, her voice a venomous, loving poison. "Take my cock. Let me fill you up while he stands watch. Let him protect the cave while I use you like the fuckhole you are."

Each slow, deep stroke was a fresh wave of bliss, the stretch and pull a maddening friction. You bit down on your knuckle to keep from screaming as she buried herself inside you, over and over, marking you as hers in the secret, shared darkness.

Zora's words were a brand, searing themselves into your mind even as her cock seared its way through your body. The slow, deliberate fucking was a special kind of torture, a deep, grinding possession that promised a pleasure so profound it was terrifying. Each deliberate retreat was a small death; each deep, pressing thrust was a rebirth into a world where only she mattered.

Her hand slid around your waist. Her calloused fingers traced patterns on your stomach before moving lower. You gasped against her arm when her thumb found your clit. You were already so close, so sensitive, that the first circle she traced there almost made you lose control.

"Shhh," she whispered, her lips brushing your ear. Her hips quickened their pace slightly, the slow grind turning into a merciless, steady pounding that matched the rhythm of her thumb. "Don't want Duncan to hear how I'm making my little slut fall apart, do we?"

The mention of his name, the sheer audacity of it, was gasoline on the fire. You were being wrecked, unmade, just feet from your clueless squadmate. You bit down harder on your arm, the taste of salt and fabric on your tongue, trying to muffle the whimpering moans that were escaping your throat.

Suddenly, from the front of the cave, there was a loud crackle as a log shifted in the fire, followed by the sound of Duncan clearing his throat.

You both froze instantly.

Zora's body went rigid, her cock still buried deep inside you, hot and heavy. Her hand stilled between your legs. You held your breath, every muscle tense, listening to the darkness. The seconds stretched into an eternity. All you could feel was the throbbing of her cock inside you and the frantic hammering of your own heart. After a moment, you heard the soft rustle of Duncan shifting, settling back into the cave entrance. The danger had passed.

Zora let out a slow, silent sigh against your neck. Then she bit your shoulder, a strong, possessive bite. "Holy shit," she breathed, her voice thick with dangerous excitement. "That was close."

The adrenaline of near-discovery sent a new, violent wave of lust through you. You thrust your hips against her, a silent, desperate plea for more.

She obeyed. Her thrusts became frantic, deeper, charged with a new, reckless energy. She was fucking you like she was trying to drive you through the floor of the cave. Her thumb was a relentless torment on your clit.

"You're so wet," she growled, her voice a low, guttural growl. "So tight around my cock. You're going to come now. You're going to come so hard, and you're not going to make a fucking sound."

Her hand lifted from your clit and pressed it firmly over your mouth, sealing the scream she knew was building in your lungs. Her fingers pressed against your cheeks, holding you. It was the final key. The loss of control, the forced silence, the raw, brutal friction of her body against and inside yours was too much.

Your world dissolved into white-hot static. Your back arched violently, and a silent, piercing scream ripped through you, captured entirely by her palm. Your body convulsed around her cock, squeezing you in wave after violent wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. You came so hard you saw stars behind your closed eyelids.

Your orgasm was the only trigger she needed. Feeling you shatter around her, Zora let out a muffled, strangled moan into your shoulder. Her hips slammed against you one last time, a final thrust, deep and possessive as she spilled inside you, filling you again.

For a long moment, the two of you lay there, tangled in the sleeping bag, panting silently in the dark. Her hand slowly slipped from your mouth, slick with your saliva. She remained deep inside you, a potent, visceral reminder of who you belonged to.

She pressed a slow, wet kiss to your sweaty back.

"Now sleep," she whispered, her voice a final and absolute command. "Mine."

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