Wednesday, February 25, 2015

A France Lemon -- Trembling Sparrow

Character: France

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: Washing machines…ohonhonhon lolol


There was nothing particularly special about folding clothes.  Nothing even remotely interesting in doing laundry.  Or so you thought.  Because when you happened to have a Frenchman living in your house, the mundane didn’t stay that way for very long.
Two arms curled around your waist and another body cuddled up behind you.  Francis was often in an amorous mood and you were used to these sudden, bold displays of affection.  Also used to the other displays, the displays that shared a border with lust.  And he could mix the two together without even trying.
“Mademoiselle~  I’ve been looking all over for you!” he pushed his nose into your hair and nuzzled you, hands creeping over your thighs as if silently commanding the fabric to disappear.  You rolled your eyes.
“Get off of me,” you snapped, not in the mood for his antics.  In fact you were dreading them, because of one reason: it was Valentine’s Day.  And Francis on Valentine’s Day was a force to be reckoned with.
He didn’t let go.  If anything, he tightened his grasp around you as a snake would around its prey and held on for dear life.  So much so that you really couldn’t help but feel the hard, telltale sign of an erection burning into your rear.  At once you stiffened, sighed, and asked in an almost resigned voice, “Are you hard?”  You weren’t surprised.  He wasn’t either.
“Does it make you uncomfortable, mon amour?” [1] he wondered with a chuckle.  It obviously wasn’t making him very uncomfortable – he never was when it came to sex and all things related to it.  You rolled your eyes again and struggled to get out of his hold, not realizing until it was too late that the movement happened to be very much appreciated by your ridiculously ardent lover. 
“Mmmm…I love it when you struggle,” he purred into your ear, nipping at the flesh and rubbing his groin against your butt.  And, try as you might, you couldn’t help but feel the stirrings of desire shoot through you at his touches.  You frowned and reached down to snatch his hands away from their intended path over your inner thighs.  But even as you locked your slender fingers with his larger, calloused hands, you felt that desire pool inside you and fester, growing into something indiscernible in its power.  You loved his hands.  Loved them laying flat against you.  Loved how they were quick and steady and wicked, and so it came as no surprise to find that you were aroused by having them so close to your core.
“France!” you cried, trying to sound indignant.  But your voice was more lustful than annoyed, something that certainly did not go amiss.  Francis chuckled and suddenly his hands were everywhere, twisting out of your grasp and splaying out over your naval, up to playfully squeeze your breasts, back down over your sides.  And as he generously touched you, he murmured, “Let’s get some of these clothes off, hmm?  I need to see you naked and wet.”  His hand lightly slapped at your butt as if to annunciate his words and you opened your mouth to berate him –
But found that mouth suddenly pressed against the top of the washing machine as Francis suddenly pushed your upper body down against it.  The scolding words on your tongue died almost immediately, and with good reason.  For laying flat against the top of that thrumming machine was stimulating your breasts in ways you couldn’t even begin to describe.  You bit your lip and held back a moan that would have no doubt made him very amused indeed, not that it mattered all that much.  Francis was no sexual novice: he knew when a woman was aroused and hiding it.
“Ohonhonhon~  I had a feeling you liked vibrators, mon moineau.  Don’t worry, I’ll have the rest of you throbbing soon enough,” [2] he half chuckled-half purred, and you scowled against the trembling machine, lifting yourself up to give him a real tongue lashing (and not the kind he obviously wanted, mind you).
But once again, your words died on your tongue.  Because standing behind you with his hair casually tied back and his eyes sparkling with mirth and lust, Francis had begun to remove his own clothes.  His shirt was already on the floor.  His trousers were half gone, and his hard cock was in plain sight.  Yes, your words were lost, because at that moment you decided that you’d rather not scold him.  You’d rather just fuck him.
He raised an eyebrow at you and kicked his pants away, tilting his head as he studied your eyes carefully.  After a moment he smirked, “You’ve finally given in, I see.  And all it took was the sight of my cock~  I’ll remember that for future reference.”  The way his eyes crinkled up was nothing short of wicked.
“Shut up and touch me,” you ground out, turning back around and struggling to get out of your shirt in your rather haphazard position.  After watching the battle for several brief moments, Francis stepped in to assist.  His large hands eased around your front and he pulled you back, admiring the way you whined when he did.  As he turned you around the face him and began undoing your shirt, he commented, “Your chest is already so sensitive…I don’t know why I haven’t thought to do this earlier.”  Thrusting you against a working washing machine that is. 
With a luxurious grin he tossed your shirt away and immediately went in for your bra.  It came off so quickly that you barely had time to blink before his mouth was descending on your hard nipples.  And then you were falling back with a loud moan, and the only reason why you didn’t just fall to the ground was because Francis was holding you tightly to his chest.  Oh yes, your breasts were sensitive, even more so after that lovely washing machine escapade.
“Oh God,” you sighed, tangling your fingers into his hair and dragging him closer.  It felt amazing.  That clever tongue of his thrust against your nipples, followed by teeth that scraped lightly, bit gently.  And when his mouth wasn’t occupied with his oral ministrations, his hands certainly were. 
You pressed your hips against his and rubbed at his cock, which sprang up between you hard and hot.  The action made him stiffen, then moan, and when he looked up at you his eyes were dark and dangerous.  His fingers were at your jeans before you could draw another breath, tugging them down hurriedly as if he could barely stand another moment of their existence around your hips.  The moment they were gone, he was pushing you up against the machine and nipping playfully at your bottom lip, his hands squeezing at your breasts, his knee sinking between the both of yours.
“Shall we use the washing machine for better purposes, mon amour?”  he huskily asked, and when you moaned a response, he chuckled and said, “Get up.  I want to taste you.”  And you thought you would die from the anticipation before you got all the way up, for the way he clutched and lifted you up made you feel like you were burning.  And that was nothing compared to how you felt after you were situated.
Immediately, Francis dragged your legs apart and prodded at your clit with two fingers.  He leaned in to press a kiss against your inner thigh, smirk up at you, and murmur, “Mmm…you’re already wet.”  He lifted his fingers to his lips and licked your juices from them, moaning as he did.  The sight made you pant, so overcome by desire that you could scarcely think. 
“How do you like it up there?” he asked after a moment, drawing his fingers once more over your clit.  You shivered from both his touch and the heady vibrations of the washing machine, which were thudding through you like tiny earthquakes, making your arousal spike into levels unknown.
You leaned back on your hands and spread your legs wider, raising an eyebrow at him.  He smirked in interest at the move, obviously aroused by the rather shameless display.  When he leaned in to drag his tongue over your clit, tasting you for real, you shivered and honestly replied, “It feels amazing.  But you know what would feel even better?”  He paused, looked up at you, and asked, “What is that, mon amour?”  He wanted – needed – to know.
You smirked and shifted to the side, patted the spot next to you, and purred, “If you come up too and we start fucking.”  Your words made his eyes flash lustfully.  He chuckled darkly and straightened, studying you for a brief moment before nodding slowly and pulling himself up onto the machine.  Immediately he had to swallow back a harsh wave of desire, for the vibrations made his cock absolutely rigid.  He paused to catch his breath but his voice still suffered and clenched with arousal.  “Ahh…it does feel good.”  Then he gave you a sideways smirk and said, “You said something about fucking?”
You were in his lap a moment later, sliding your legs around his and pressing your clit to his member.  The vibrations of the machine traveled all the way up his cock and right against your core, making you both gasp as you struggled to get closer.  Then he was slipping inside you and the feelings only intensified. 
“Oh, mon dieu!” [3] Francis gasped, leaning back and grinding his hips against yours, as much as could be allowed in the current position.  You moaned and followed him back, feeling his fingers curling around your waist and hip as you thrust against his cock.  “That feels…!” your exclamation died as Francis reached down to blindly turn the power higher, making the washing machine jolt faster as it reached a faster setting.  “Mmmmmm…” you moaned, burying your face against his shoulder as you continued to spear yourself against him.
“Oui!” he breathlessly panted in response to you, “C'est incroyable.” [4]  And it really was.  You weren’t sure why you’d never thought to do this in the past.
His fingers cupped your face and he brought you close, kissing you with a passion that let you miles behind.  And then he smiled and breathed, “Your cunt feels like it’s vibrating all on its own…Il me rend fou…” [5]
You just kissed him harder, too aroused to be bothered by his offensive wording.  You were flying, pushing ever closer to an end that you knew would leave you breathless and amazed.  And that end did make you breathless, and amazed, and many other things when you finally reached it.  You moaned and threw yourself against him, hips bouncing into his as you took that throbbing cock as deeply into yourself as you possibly could.  And it was breathless and amazing in a staggering, stifling way.
“Oh oui…oui!” he mumbled, for the clenching of your core and the vibrating waves from the machine were enough to make him follow soon enough.  He watched you come with a cry that made him see insanity in a new light, for surely he was corrupted with it.  As he thrust upward and emptied his seed into the vibrating mess of your core, he certainly felt delirious and crazed, like a rabid animal still ravenous for more.
He would get more, much more, but for now he was content with sitting atop the washing machine with you in his arms, lower bodies throbbing and dripping, ricocheting with gratification.

~~~

Translations:
[1] Mon amour … My love
[2] Mon moineau … My sparrow
[3] Mon dieu! … My God!
[4] C'est incroyable … It is incredible
[5] Il me rend fou … It makes me crazy

Sunday, February 22, 2015

An England Lemon -- Rough And Tumbled

Character: England

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: Cause I think Arthur would totally be (secretly) into this…


Arthur wasn’t entirely sure what he was expecting when he came home from work that day.  Maybe a nice hot cup of tea and a relaxing shower.  Certainly not you, curled up on his bed reading a book, stark naked.
He stepped into his bedroom and was at a momentary loss for words, partly because he was just surprised but mostly because the sight of you bare was invigorating.  His mouth hung open and his green eyes widened, and somehow he managed to stutter out a flustered, “What are you doing?”
As if only just realizing he was there, you raised your eyes from the book and glanced at him blankly.  The slow smile that fluttered onto your mouth left him feeling wary, as though he were walking straight into a trap.  A very leggy, delicious trap.
“Oh Arthur, you’re home,” you said, tilting you head to the side and stretching a little.  He swallowed back a sudden wave of desire as he watched, wondering at the catty way you moved.  Were you usually like this or was he just blindly filling in the blanks?  You sat up and crossed your legs one over the other, leaning back on your elbows, “I was waiting very patiently.  I think I deserve a reward.”
He raised his eyebrows at you dryly and began to undo his tie, loosening it and letting it hang off his shoulders as he began to unbutton his shirt.  “Oh really?” he asked, shooting you a wary look.  “Well I’m afraid I can’t indulge you today.  Several important people are coming over for dinner.” 
You chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, it won’t take long.  I’m already half there anyway.”  You waved your hand obscurely and he paused, frowning and blurting, “Really?”  Somewhere in the back of his mind, Arthur was aware that he was being baited, but the thought of you already wet and ready had him breathing shallower, body tingling with the beginnings of arousal.  “…You don’t look it,” he observed after several generous moments of glancing at your body.  Why did he feel so flustered?  It wasn’t like him to jump right into these kinds of situations; he was better, more experienced than that.
You hummed, a half-purr that burred from your throat like violet heather and shimmied dangerously through the air.  Then, before he could possibly prepare himself, your legs spread open and your fingers were slipping against your core in long, even strokes that had him holding his breath, staring with wide dark eyes.  Those eyes followed your every movement, watching with heady, calculating desire as you lifted your wet fingers to your lips.  The soft pink of your tongue darted around the slender digits and all at once Arthur received a rather lovely image of what you’d look like between his legs, licking something that was growing steadily larger with each passing second.
“Yup,” you purred, smirking as your fingers returned to your core, “Now that you’re here, I think I’m more than half gone.”  Oh sweet Jesus you really were.  And speaking of being ‘half gone’, Arthur’s common sense fit into that description quite nicely, because he couldn’t remember why it was so important to go get dinner started or why he really needed to shower and get changed into nicer clothes.
It took him three seconds to cross the room and kneel beside the bed, and then he was clasping your thighs, pulling you close, and sinking his tongue against your core to taste you properly.  You gasped and your head tilted back, legs curling around his shoulders as he licked a long path across your clit, then began sucking on every part of you he could.  It was deliriously perfect.
Your fingers threaded through his hair and you wondered, for a brief moment, if you shouldn’t just let yourself come to that clever little tongue of his.  But you had a plan, and you couldn’t deny that you’d wanted to try it out for a while now.  Been working up the courage to ask, too, and you knew you’d regret not going through with it.  So a few minutes later, you tugged on his hair and murmured a thick, aroused, “Mmm…I love when you do that, Arthur, but there’s something else I wanted to try today.”  And he raised an eyebrow, lips bruised from his ministrations as his tongue darted out to clean the juices off his skin.
“Oh?  What’s that?” he asked, rubbing your leg a little in encouragement.  He had several more kinky passions that he enjoyed and was more than willing to hear what you liked.  It was the mark of a good lover to sacrifice your own pleasure for the sake of the other.  And Arthur liked to think that he was a fairly good lover, probably just as good as France.  Most likely better.
You smiled and swung your leg over his head, shifting until your stomach was laying on the mattress and you were looking at him over your shoulder.  He slowly stood up, swallowing at the sight you made.  Your legs were hanging off the bed, your hips on the very edge of the mattress, and he was getting a very nice view of your rear.  He hummed in appreciation and touched it, sliding his hands over your skin and then haltingly saying, “…You want me to…do it here?”  His finger gently shifted over the area where you asshole was and you started chuckling, shaking your head.
“No, that’s not what I meant,” you smiled, and thought it rather looked like he was relieved.  You didn’t stop to wonder at that.  Instead you bit your lip, wiggled your hips, and said bluntly, “I want you to spank me.”  There, that was better.  It was out in the open at least, and there was no trace of horror on Arthur’s face.  In fact, he looked rather…well, to say ‘aroused’ would be redundant.
“Oh, I see,” he murmured, voice low.  He sighed.  Not an unhappy, fine-I’ll-do-it-but-I-won’t-like-it sigh, but rather a breathless, pleased humming sort of sound.  It was filled with soft excitement and a deep, almost luxurious relaxation, as if he had all the time in the world and liked it that way.
His brought both hands over your butt and propped a knee beside your hips, taking a few moments to just touch you.  Then, when you wiggled your hips again, he gave in and brought a hand down lightly on your left cheek, leaving a very soft lingering pink that blushed over your skin.  You took a deep breath and looked over your shoulder at him, eyes dark and wide and very aroused.  And he stared back, breathing harder as well and then chuckling.
“I never knew you liked this.  Wish you’d told me earlier,” he muttered, rubbing a gentle circle into your skin and then reaching for one of the pillows.  When he returned, he said, “Lift your hips.  And make sure you tell me if I’m being too rough, okay?”  You nodded your agreement and proceeded to lift your hips up, letting him slid the pillow beneath them.  When you settled back down, your lower half was elevated and Arthur let out a pleased hum at the sight you made.  And then his hand came down again, and it was harder this time.
You moaned with surprise and pleasure and sunk your fingers into the sheets, tilting your hips up and panting with every slap.  His touch was a peculiar mixture of gentle and rough, and the pleasure that roiled through you was tinted with delightful shades of blacks and whites and grays that didn’t take solid form, only shifted back and forth like an ocean of escalating desire.
Arthur himself was also finding pleasure in the motions, which surprised him greatly.  Every spank had his member getting harder, aching more acutely.  He was breathless and was actually finding it difficult to only spank you – and not touch you in other places, or run his hands over your body or deal with his own problem.  And well, his drifting thoughts were what ultimately made him come up with a most delightful idea, and he paused in his ministrations to go digging around in the bedside drawer.
“Hmm?  Why’d you stop?” you asked thickly, turning to glance at him in confusion.  But he only sent you a smirking look and pulled out a bottle of lube, upending it and letting it drip all over your ass and lower waist.  You squeaked at the cold liquid but found no other reason to complain as his hands generously massaged the oil into your skin, starting from your waist and moving to your thighs.  And then he chuckled and slipped his fingers between your legs, jolting them over your core very briefly and watching you moan and spread your thighs.
“Uh uh, none of that,” he drawled, slapping your ass again and listening to that delicious moan spilling into the air.  He tsked and, with his free hand, sunk two fingers into your core, twisting them slowly and murmuring, “You’re absolutely dripping.  Does this really turn you on so much?” 
His answer came in the form of a drawn out, hoarse, “Yessssss!”  And he chuckled again, thinking that the sound of you was probably the most erotic he’d ever heard.  And so he did it again, and again, until the whimpering sound of your desire numbed his ears as well as other things. 
Your ass was raw and red.  Every smack of his hand stung you with the most indescribably erotic pleasure.  Every second had your arousal rearing, growing, aching to a point where you felt lost amid the patterned shades of your own lust as it puckered and writhed just beneath your skin.  You were immobile on the edge of that mattress: immobile, blind, and dumb to the world around you.  There was nothing, save for the gratuitous feel of Arthur’s rough motions and the lovely sting of your rear.  It was as if a giant chasm had erected around you and swallowed you into it without your knowledge.
“Arthur…” you moaned, spreading your thighs again.  You ached like you were afire with lust, as if it had merged into your very being.  He looked down at the dripping mess you were and chuckled, moving his hand to lightly slap your core instead.  The rough, unexpected movement had you gasping and whimpering, “Oh!  Arth…ur…” and the sound trailed off as he heaved your hips closer to the edge and ground them against his cock.  His very much bare, freed cock.
You panted, glanced behind you, saw that he was smirking down at you with those shards of narrowed emeralds.  His fingers sunk against your core as if he were idly petting some domestic animal, back and forth as he looked down at you.  But then he paused and told you, “Get on your knees.”  And you smiled, half in relief and half in amusement, for his voice was very ragged and hoarse.
“See? I told you it wouldn’t take long,” you said, shifting into the desired position and tossing the pillow to the side.  Arthur hummed and adjusted your hips, pushing them down to his level and then leaning down himself to press two gentle, lingering kisses to both sides of your rear. 
“I don’t think this will take very long, either,” he muttered, eyes flashing as you looked back at him.  It was quite clearly a warning, but one were didn’t mind upholding.  You merely wiggled your butt, pushing it against him, and grinned lopsidedly, “’S fine.  I’m horny as hell anyhow.”  The unabashed words made him roll his eyes and give you an amused slap on your thigh.  And then he was pushing into you and filling you up in the most basest way, and your back was arching as you let out a shaky, breathless moan.
“That’s good,” you mumbled, shifting your hips a little.  Arthur hummed and pulled out, enjoying the wet sound of his thrusting.  In fact he enjoyed everything about the moment: the scent of sex, the sounds of it, the physical edge that made him feel as if he were weightless, and yet so grounded that he could only stand there and sink into the earth, burdened by desire, hindered by love.  He gritted his teeth and slammed into your harder, unable to find respite even as your tight walls clenched around him.  But he was too aroused, too hard, and it was only until he settled for a swift running thrust that he finally sighed out and felt some semblance of relief.
With relief brought other things, too.  The gentle, static curve of an orgasm floundered beneath his skin, threatening to make itself known if he kept up his hectic pace.  Any other day he might’ve heeded the warning for a more drawn-out approach.  But today there was no time for gentle finishes.  Only the rough net of desire as it captured and dragged him flailing from an ocean of physical obstacles.
“Almost there…!” he gasped, nails digging into your hips, pressing his passion into every touch as if to brand you with it.  But you were already branded, had been for a long time, and in the face of his desire you wilted as well as strengthened: a nonnegotiable truth that flustered you into submission.  It did the same now, with hardly any effort at all.  Because you were already aching, already squirming as you tried desperately to hold your orgasm back, to let the waiting of it rip you to shreds and spin tangible heady relief into your bones.  And so when you heard his voice, the way it was layered with such lust, such need that it was breathless and bare coherent…well, it rather ruined your efforts.
“Arthur!” you gasped, arching, plummeting.  Your end whipped through you like tension snapping.  Your muscles clenched tight around his cock and he let out a hoarse cry at the intense feel of it, eyes watering at the roughness of your finish and the way cut right through him like knives.  It was hardly any surprise when he gasped, leaned over you, and doubled his pace.  No surprise when he came shortly after, your muscles contracting and pulling, pulsing his finish into the most delightful zigzag direction.  And when it was all over, Arthur could only gasp, chuckle, and move to shakily take a seat beside you, his back falling down against the mattress as he tried to catch his breath.
You moved to him, feeling raw and sore but perfectly satisfied.  And, after a few minutes as laying in silence, Arthur gently touched your butt and frowned, “Does it hurt?”  The question was simple and so you answered with an equally simple, “Mmhmm.”  Because it was true, it did hurt, but that didn’t particularly bother you.  It wouldn’t bother you until you had to sit down.
He frowned deeper, “Perhaps I should’ve been more gentle…” 
His hand moved up to your shoulder blades and spun patterns between them.  You glanced at his face, caught his worried eyes, and patted his chest, “Arthur…I feel absolutely perfect.  You were really great.  It felt amazing.”  The reassurance bolstered him as you knew it would, but he still pursed his lips as he looked down at you, contemplating.
And then suddenly he jolted up, eyes wide as he remembered something he really shouldn’t have forgotten.  Something that had to do with a certain dinner party that he was supposed to be getting ready.  “Christ!” he exclaimed, shooting up and grabbing his clothes, then pausing because he really needed a shower.  “I can’t believe I forgot – they’ll be here in an hour and I haven’t even gone to get groceries!”
You watched calmly for a moment, withholding the urge to tell him it was just as well he hadn’t the chance to cook.  Instead you just sighed, moving up to pluck at your clothes, and said after a moment, “You take a shower, you need one.”  You sent him an amused smile.  “I’ll go see about the food.”  For a moment, you stared at each other, and then Arthur moved swiftly to your side and pressed an endearing kiss to your cheek.  “You’re an angel,” he murmured, before disappearing into the bathroom for his shower.
Perhaps ‘angel’ wasn’t quite the right term after the rather rough-and-tumble hour you’d just had, but you smiled anyway.  When his boss’s party did come, the table had been laid out and you’d managed to get a rather nice spread of food from the restaurant several streets down, which had been generous enough to take your last minute order.  The evening ended on that tumbled note, drifting through stone as water might drift through a roughly rounded stream.

~~~

Friday, February 20, 2015

A Sousuke Yamazaki Lemon -- Deluge

Character: Sousuke Yamazaki

Fandom: Iwatobi Swim Club

OC: Yori, aggressively nurturing, 5’2, long brown hair, brown eyes

Inspiration: Hmm, not so sure about this one.  I hope it isn’t too bad!  Let me know what you think if you feel like leaving a comment


It was evening, the sun just starting its decline into darkness, when Yori entered the locker rooms in search of a certain someone.  The scent of chlorine stifled the air and comforted her as she searched.  Though competitive swimming was unattainable for Sousuke after his injury, he still came to the pool often, mostly to act as teacher to Nitori, who was in need of extra practice. 
“Sousuke!” she called softly, for her voice echoed quite clearly through the hallways.  There was no one around, and she wondered if perhaps Sousuke had left as well, for Nitori was gone.  Still, she peered inside the men’s locker room warily, and was about to head back toward the main room when she heard the faint sound of a shower.  Making up her mind, Yori stepped back inside and headed for it.
“Sousuke?” she asked, and sure enough a moment later, his head peered out of the shower curtain and he stared at her with his usual blank stare.  She smiled at the sight of his dripping hair and said, “There you are!  Did Nitori leave already?”  It was a rather useless question: she knew Nitori had gone.  She was unsurprised when Sousuke nodded and said, “He left half an hour ago.”  Then he leaned against the tiled wall, crossed his arms, and just looked at her.  His eyes twinkled but he remained silent, and Yori raised an eyebrow.
“Come join me,” he invited, shifting the curtain back a little and showing off the proud, hard expanse of his muscled chest.  Water droplets clung to his skin.  His voice was so unabashed that Yori blushed, unused to being propositioned to in such a straight forward way.  He stared at her reddening cheeks with a tiny twisted smirk that made him look rather wicked, and she huffed.
“It’s a public locker room, Sousuke – “
“Yori.  It’s nine o’clock.  I doubt anyone’s planning to go for a late night swim.”  The words were logical but she still hesitated, floundering with the desire to acquiesce and with the fear of getting caught in such an embarrassing situation.  Besides, she could think of several guys who’d go for a late night swim.  The thought didn’t quell her fears.
Sousuke could tell he wouldn’t be getting anywhere.  Perhaps that was why he sighed almost lazily, reached out, and grabbed her wrist.  A moment later Yori was being pulled rather forcefully into the shower, clothes and all.  And Sousuke just smiled that almost blank smile, his eyes glittering with barely-there mirth as she exclaimed, “Sousuke!  You – “  Her words faltered because that was when she got a pretty good look at him and his very nude body.  She blushed and stuttered, “You’re naked.”  He smirked.
“Yes.  I’m showering after all,” he said dryly, then flicked his gaze over she own body, enjoying the way her soaked clothes had started clinging to her form.  She rolled her eyes but couldn’t deny that the situation was highly appealing.  It had been quite a while since they’d been together and seeing him like this was quickly wearing on her nerves, and her self control.
He tilted his head and reached for her, hands dragging her flush against his naked form.  Yori blushed when she felt his member press against her leg, and blushed even more when his hands began to slip beneath her shirt and raise it off her body.  His voice was soft when he murmured, “Since you’re showering too, I think you should take these off.  Don’t you agree?” 
“Mmm…” she might as well not fight it.  Yori hardly wanted to anyhow.  The fight had left her the moment she’d seen his gloriously bare body, and he was probably right: it was too late for people to possibly come for a swim.  They had the whole locker room to themselves to do as they pleased.  So she let him peel the layers of her clothes off one by one, dropping them just outside the curtain.  And then, when she was as bare as him, Sousuke pushed her gently against the wall and right beneath the spray of the water, drenching her in soft droplets that danced down her skin, between her breasts, over her naval. 
He knelt before her and licked at that water, dragging his tongue over her skin and burning fire through her veins.  His fingers, long and calloused, traced circles over her thigh.  And then he glanced up at her, smirked, and said, “Spread your legs.  It’s been ages since I’ve tasted you.”  Yori really thought her face was going to burn away, her blush was that hot.
She did as he asked, though not without a muttered, “Don’t be so crass.”  But her complaint died the moment he threw her leg over his shoulder and leaned forward to drag his tongue over the seam of her clit.  The trembling way she shook had him grunting, his member hardening from her reaction.  He reached down to pump himself through his fingers as he sucked at her.  When she saw him doing this, she sighed through a desperate crush of desire, which hit her firmly in the chest, and moaned.
“We shouldn’t do this here,” she whispered, but even as she said it Yori knew she didn’t care.  They were just words, an empty husk of syllables that offered no real argument.  Sousuke knew this too.  He chuckled and the vibrations sent her head spinning, her hips arching as a whimpered ragged moan was plucked from her throat.  And that was when she just decided that she didn’t care, she’d let him do whatever he wanted as long as the pleasure could be hers as well.  And it quite clearly would be, if he kept this up.
“Mmm…Sousuke…I want to touch you, too,” she moaned, hands threading into his hair.  He paused, shoulders stiffening from the pleasure of that moan, the way it made him want to crush her against him and fuck her hard.  He’d never done it standing up but perhaps he’d have to rectify that.  Because he doubted he’d be able to wait until they got back to his dormroom, granted that Rin was gone.  They rarely had the privacy to invest in such delightful undertakings, and had to take advantage of it when they did.  Which was why Sousuke hummed and leaned back, lips bruised from kissing and nibbling and sucking, and he murmured, “Go on then.  I’m already pretty hard.”
He really was.  His member stood ready between his legs, proud and stiff and hot.  He leaned back against the wall of the shower and Yori followed him down, water cascading over their bodies in the tiny little square cubicle.  And yet it was large enough to straddle him and grasp his cock, stroking it with eager fingers.
He didn’t moan, didn’t cry out, hardly let any of his pleasure known.  But from the way his eyes drifted over her, sparking with a fire that she swore she felt everywhere, Yori knew his arousal was startling in its intensity.  Probably because it had been so long since she’d properly had him.  She would make it up to him tonight, that was a certainty.
She gave him a little smirk and his eyes flashed in interest, watching as she slowly shifted her hips and replaced them with her hand.  Sousuke grunted, wrapped his arms around her waist, and brushed her against his chest.  His hard length burned her, made her gasp out as she felt fire thrill through her veins.
“Sousuke,” she murmured, clutching his shoulders and rocking her hips against him.  God that felt good.  Somehow knowing that he was as aroused as she was felt amazing.  The knowledge and proof of it had her head spinning, and spinning, and spinning still.  Even after he had tilted his hips and was slowly pushing into her.
“Nnnmph!” she gasped, clenching down on his girth.  He bit his lip and held his breath, fingers digging into her hips as he let her adjust to him.  She was tight and hot, and that couple with her wet body made it very difficult for him to stay still.
“Mmm…are you ready?  Can I move?”  he buried his face against her shoulder and felt it tremble, though whether it was from passion or something else he didn’t know.  When she grasped her fingers into his hair and began to haltingly jolt her hips into his, he decided it was passion.  Definitely.
“Yes, God yes.  Move.  I want to feel you,” she whispered, and he thought he would burst from the sound of her voice alone.  Husky, low, and dripping with raw desire.  He laughed a little, breathless laugh that had everything to do with his own lost self control, and gave her a rather sinister smile.  “If you insist,” he murmured, and did as she asked.  The next moment he was surging his hips upward, melding them against hers and pushing his length as deeply into her as he could in their current position.  And in return, she sunk down as well, letting herself be filled with him.  Letting him show her how it felt to be alive and loved.
What a feeling it was.  She breathed in his breath, tumbled her fingers over his skin, kissed his shoulder and his chin and his mouth.  And Sousuke grunted, moved his lips with hers and grasped her rear with tight, delicious fingers, guiding her against him.  Her head spun so wildly that she hardly even realized she was coming moments later.  But when she did, it was such an uncontrollable feeling that she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but stare at him in wonder and crash against the brilliant shades of her passion. 
The water pelted down on them and Sousuke watched it trail over her body.  He hummed and leaned forward, still hard inside her even as she clenched deliciously around his shaft.  He nipped at her ear and growled a low, “Keep going.”  That she of course listened to, because she wanted to bring him pleasure as well, even if her own pleasure was momentarily put on hold.
She kept going.  She rushed forward, shifted her hips, felt her skin slap quietly against his.  And somehow, somewhere, Sousuke started to lose himself too.  He curled his arms around her and dragged her close to his chest, pressing her breasts against him and watching her lower body move over his.  The sight was enough to make him crazy, and he clutched her ever harder as he let himself go.
“Ah…” he shuddered, quietly drowning against her.  Yori held him and let him sink against her, head buried against her chest as he breathed hard.  “…Mmm.  Come here.”  He leaned back and she followed, their wet bodies sliding easily together as the water glistens down. 
It was a beautiful feeling, she thought, being wrapped up in his arms and the embrace of the water.  Letting the warmth of them both linger through her, washing her with brilliant beautiful memories.  And as she tilted her head to kiss his cheek, Yori decided she should come looking for him here more often. 
~~~