Sunday, May 24, 2015

A Kiba Inuzuka Lemon -- Love Like Liturgies

Character: Kiba Inuzuka

Fandom: Naruto Shippuden

OC: [Name]

Inspiration:  Just something random I came up with for Kiba  :)  I've been in a Naruto mood lately


It is a very unassuming sort of day, or so you think as you walk down the streets of Konoha.  Of course you should have known better.  Unassuming and Kiba in the same sentence is fairly laughable – and that’s where you’re headed, to find Kiba.  But he ends up finding you instead.
You’re passing a row of vendors when suddenly a hand jerks out of the alley and snatches you.  Before you know what’s going on, you’re being pulled forcefully into the shadows and a hand’s clamping down on your mouth, muffling the scream that shrilly blossoms in your throat.  But there’s no need to scream: it isn’t a rapist or some creepy stalker.  It’s just Kiba.  A very…well, strange looking Kiba. 
Something’s off about him.  You can see it and feel it immediately.  It’s like something has messed up with his chakra, pulling it in several direction at once.  His eyes gleam with the reddish tinge of that chakra, and when he opens his mouth to speak, you see that his teeth are sharper, sort of like fangs.
“Shh,” he hisses, shoving you against the wall and following you back.  His body presses against yours, his leg naturally pushing between your knees.  Had it not taken you so off guard, you might have thought the position was intimate – but you’re way too confused to bother thinking about anything like that.
“Mphmm!” you try to say, grappling with his wrist.  When you’re able to tear it away from your mouth, you snarl, “What the hell, Kiba?!  I thought we agreed to meet at Ichiraku’s, not in some creepy alleyway!” 
“I know,” he snaps right back, easily matching your anger.  His eyes can’t seem to stay still and he hasn’t let go of you yet.  He’s still pressing you hard into the wall, his face inches from yours.  You glower and try to push him back, but he won’t budge.
“Well are you gonna tell me why you’re hiding in this shadowy corner, or are you just going to stare at me all day?  What’s wrong with you anyway?  Your chakra is – “
“I know!” he says in annoyance, cutting you off before you can start nagging him like you’re wont to do.  He glares out into the street but no one is paying either of you any attention.  “Look – “ he pauses, then suddenly lurches away and drags you deeper into the alley, till you’re basically lurking against the far wall near the dumpsters and graffiti.  You’re about to complain when he pushes you against another wall (what the hell is wrong with him?) and bites out, “I can’t go out there.”
The words are reminiscent of a criminal on the run from the law.  Your eye twitches.  Kiba is neither a criminal nor is he ‘on the run’, though he certainly can be dense sometimes.  Weird, too.  So after a moment of staring at him, you drawl, “And why is that?”  All you want is some freaking ramen for God’s sake, not to have your friend suddenly go mentally insane on you.
He frowns and pauses again, opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again.  This goes on for almost a full minute before you’re shoving at him angrily and exclaiming, “For God’s sake Kiba!  Would you please tell me what – “
Kiba tells you alright, but not in words.  Instead he presses you into the wall again and presses himself into you, groaning very slightly and jerking his forehead against the hard concrete near your head.  You stare wide-eyed past his shoulder, suddenly stiff and hard.  And you aren’t the only one stiff and hard.  Because Kiba’s problem apparently involves an erection.  A really hard erection that’s currently being rubbed against your thigh.
Before you can stop yourself, arousal bursts through you like a tsunami.  You bite your lip hard and turn glowering eyes to his.  Kiba has the decency to at least look a little bit bashful about it all, though only a little.  When you speak, it’s in a gritted, sandpapery way that gratefully hides whatever pleasure you’re getting from his lower body.  “Kiba.  What are you doing?”
He blushes a little and frowns, staring you down with hard, impassioned crimson eyes.  “I told you, [Name] – I can’t go out here.  I’m stuck.”  You wouldn’t exactly call having a boner ‘stuck’, but whatever.  You’re too annoyed (and aroused) to tell him that he makes no sense.
“What the fuck Kiba, why the fuck did you go out in public with…with that?!”  You’re so confused.
He growls and shifts himself against you.  It’s almost like he’s dry humping you – no, that’s exactly what he’s doing – and it’s ridiculously…ridiculously hot.  Seriously hot.  Crazy hot –
“I wasn’t like this when I went out,” he insists, and for the first time he sounds a little desperate, like he’s completely unsure what to do.  “I think I’m…I mean, I never heard of this happening before to an Inuzuka but I think I’m in heat.”
You raise an eyebrow, “Like a dog?  And would you stop doing that!”
He doesn’t stop.  “I can’t,” he hisses, fisting his hand tightly and beating it into the wall near your shoulder.  His red eyes flash darkly down at you and you suppress a shiver that he can see, rolling over and over your skin.  That’s not all he sees, either.  It’s like suddenly he’s aware of every part of you, and he can smell your arousal wafting up at him.  It hits him like a ton of bricks and makes his head spin.  No, he can’t stop himself.  The mere thought of stopping makes him want to die.
“It just…it just happened, when I was walking toward Ichiraku’s…” he swallows and you frown, because you’d never known erections to just spring up like that out of nowhere.
“Kiba how could you just – “
“I don’t know [Name]!” he growls angrily, shoving his hips against your thigh again, this time in little circular motions.  He groans and lets out a heavy breath before saying slowly, “Look, couldn’t you just…just help me?  You’re my best friend, that’s what best friends do, right?  …help each other?”  He tries to smile but it comes off as more of a twisted desperate lopsided smirk that falls pitifully short.
His words make you stare.  He wants you to help him get off?  In this dark semi-public alleyway?  He must see that you’re shocked and unsettled by the suggestion, because he hurries to add, “Please [Name].  You can’t possibly admit that you don’t feel something right now.  That you aren’t turned on by this.”
This time you’re shock transforms itself into cynical derision.  “Um, yes I can,” you say, even as the rush of arousal wets your panties and makes your adrenaline skyrocket.
Kiba closes his eyes and inhales deeply, unsettling you even more.  He’s got this animalistic aura to him right now that’s similar to how he is in battle, but different somehow.  It’s sexy as hell too.  You’ve been friends with him since you were both toddlers and have crushed on him for almost just as long, but you never thought he felt the same about you.  He still might not.  Regardless of his affections though, you can’t deny that this situation is extremely hard to ignore, especially considering the amount of times you’d imagined him like this. 
“I can smell it on you,” he admits after a moment of silence.  You stiffen in mortification.  He slowly opens his eyes and presses his forehead against yours, “Your arousal.  I can smell it.  I know you want me.  Please [Name].”  Every word is like a bullet that pierces your armor and makes you weak.
You go limp in his arms and he pulls you against him, shuddering when he feels the length of your body pressed to his.  It feels like he’s getting harder every second.  You clutch at him and close your eyes tightly, swallowing back the waves of temptation and whispering, “I can’t Kiba.”
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.  “Why not?”
The question is understandable but no less easy to answer.  You pause, tremble.  He holds you tighter and you mumble, “Because…because I’m your best friend, and I’m been in love with you for years.”
He stiffens too, staring down at you with wide, shocked eyes that are quickly turning warm, warm like you’ve never seen them.  To your surprise he chuckles.  For a moment you think he isn’t taking your confession seriously and you frown, but then Kiba says, “I know that.”
You gape.  “You know?!  What do you mean you know?”
He raises an eyebrow and for a moment, looks a lot less strange and lot more like the normal Kiba.  The one who teases you daily, makes fun of the way you’re always hungry, who used to sleep in your bed when your parents weren’t around and sneak off in the morning.  And he’s saying that he knows you’re in love with him.
He chuckles and pushes you back into the wall, but gentler this time like he thinks you’re somehow delicate all of the sudden.  Maybe you are, or at least your emotions are.  You’ve never felt so shaken in all your life.  Shaken and aroused.  What a combination.
“I’ve known for years,” he admits, his breath swaying over your face.  Your knee somehow gets lodged between his legs and you can feel his hardness pressing against you again.  It easily makes you breathless.  But what makes you even more so is the way Kiba looks at you, all sweet and endearing even while his eyes shine with fire and erotic need.
“I just assumed…that you knew too.  Knew that I…ya know, also loved you.”  He grins crookedly and you immediately start to glower at him.  Yes, you’re a little bit overcome by his sudden confession.  But you’re more annoyed that he assumed something like that.  He’s basically telling you that you could’ve spent the last few years doing much more interesting things with each other.  All you can see is a lot of wasted time.  And a lot of that sweet endearing passion that makes his eyes light up.
“So now that we’ve spilled our hearts out to each other, would you please…?” he asks, suddenly snapping you out of the blank reverie you’d been in.  You roll your eyes and are about to respond when he suddenly jerks closer.  His erection rubs against your inner thigh this time, closer to your core.  His hands grasp your waist and his breathing gets deeper, like he’s having a very hard time controlling himself.
“Kiba…” you begin, but he cuts you off immediately.
“Just…just your hand.  C’mon [Name].  If you don’t help me I’ll be stuck here all day!”
“Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”
“No fucking way, don’t you see how horny I am right now?” he growls, eyes blazing.  “Don’t you know what happens to a dog that goes in heat?  I can’t end it myself.  It doesn’t work that way – “
“Fine Kiba!” you exclaim, not wanting to admit that you’d really like nothing more than to touch him, especially after all those endearing words of his.  He looks mollified and even a little smug, something that makes you narrow your eyes.  With a shaky hand you touch the top of his jeans, slink your fingers down the front of his pants, and rub the bulge in them slightly.  It’s a very soft movement, but it still makes Kiba shudder violently and groan.
“Harder,” he insists, growling in your ear and pressing against your more adamantly.  You sigh and, heart thundering, splay out your hand against him to rub him harder, squeezing him lightly.  He groans again and it makes you hot as hell, like your veins are combusting all at once.
“God…I can’t…[Name] you smell amazing – “ he stops and you blush, because you know what he’s referring to.  Then suddenly Kiba is pulling away from you and fumbling with his jeans, and you’re staring at him wide-eyed as he pushes them off his hips and pulls out his hard erection.  You’ve never seen him like this before.  You’ve seen others but not his, and somehow you think it’s bigger than the others.  Maybe it’s just the situation, but still.
“Touch me,” he practically pleads.  You can’t deny him anything at this point.  You look up at him and reach for his waist, pulling him back into you.  His weight crushes you gently and, when you curl your fingers around his cock, Kiba groans out in relief.  “Ahhh…faster [Name], just like…yeah, like that…fuck…” 
You swallow.  Your breathing spins out faster, pooling against his neck.  He’s hot and hard in your palm, more so than you’d expected.  He’s wet too, with precum.  His tip is all but coated with the stuff and it makes you sort of want to suck him, but you aren’t sure if you’re brave enough to initiate that sort of thing.  You sort of want to do other things too, go farther, but said bravery certainly doesn’t extend that far.  Or so you think.
“Kiba…” you say lowly, and his eyes snap open to stare at you.  His hips are thrusting gently into your hand as you stroke it over his member, but he pauses for a moment when you say his name because you sound so…coy.  And it makes him a little crazy.
“Am I the only one who going to do the pleasuring?” you somehow manage to say through the thick haze of your arousal.  He stares in shock, eyes wide, than grins wolfishly and chuckles.  “Thank God,” he mumbles, running his hands over your body generously.  “I thought you didn’t want me to.”
Into his ear you whisper, “I want you to Kiba.  Now touch me, I can’t stand it anymore.”  You really can’t.  You’re so wet and aching that you can barely stand up.
His eyes flutter, clearly turned on by your words and your invitation.  He doesn’t waste even a second when he grabs the front of your pants and tugs at them, undoing them swiftly.  Then you’re suddenly kicking them off and Kiba’s fingers are spreading your folds apart and sinking into the wetness of them, and you’re both sighing out in relief. 
“I’ve wanted to do this for years…” he admits rather callously, and you chuckle.  “Me too,” you say.  You both look at each other, smile, and press your foreheads close.  It occurs to your that you haven’t even kissed him yet and you raise your eyebrows.  Figures Kiba would entirely skip first base in favor of getting the second and third.  That’s just like him.
“What is it?” he asks throatily, brushing his thumb over the top of your clit and making you very breathless.  Instead of answering (you doubt you’d be coherent anyway), you merely tunnel your fingers into his hair and drag his head forward, pressing your mouth to his in a sudden kiss.  He groans and sinks quickly against you, clearly enjoying your boldness.  He kisses you back feverishly, moving his lips against yours in a slow drag.  Like cigarette smoke being dragged through the air and away.
You’re head is spinning by the time the kiss dissolves, and it’s about to spin even more.  Because then Kiba is suddenly twisting his fingers inside you and thrusting slowly, deeply, and you’re gasping and trembling against him and concrete. 
“Oh God…” you whimper.  Kiba kisses your jaw, scrapes his teeth against your chin, licks your earlobe.  He drags it into his mouth and between his teeth and sucks.  That hand that’s still enclosed over his cock slows but his own hand doesn’t.  He thrusts faster into you until suddenly everything stops – he does, you do, everything.
You stare in confusion, not sure why he’s abruptly pulling back from you.  You don’t understand it at all – until of course he starts kneeling down between your legs, and then you’re staring with wide, hesitant eyes.
“Kiba,” you start to say, but he swiftly cuts you off.
“I want to taste you,” he growls, eyes flashing dangerously.  His chakra signature has gotten even crazier, even more out of control.  So has yours.  You sink into the wall and close your eyes, throat contracting and chest heaving.
“What if someone walks over here?” you ask.  He only snorts, breath pattering over your thigh and hands running up and down your legs.
“Why would they?” he asks reasonably, but it doesn’t make you feel better.  You’d like to complain a little more, but you don’t really have time to.  A moment later, Kiba’s suddenly lurching your weight from beneath you and slipping both your legs around his shoulders, so that you’re being lifted by him.  The position puts his face directly in front of your core, and the sight of him nestled between your legs makes you shiver deliriously.
His tongue licks on straight line over your slit, then he pauses and moans.  The vibrations pucker over your folds and you gasp, hands braced against the wall as you stare down at him.  “You taste amazing…even better than I’ve imagined…” he mutters, licking you again like an animal, a dog.  You shiver at the thought of him imagining what you taste like, and whimper, “K-Kiba…”  He grips you tighter and rubs his tongue in circular movements around your clit, making sure to feel every inch of you.
It’s so amazing you think you might come right then and there.  His ministrations make you ache that much more.  Your body is pounding, thudding with a desire that presses needles against your heart.  You can’t breathe and certainly can’t think.  All you can do is gasp against the wall and drown in the amazing way Kiba laps at you. 
“Ohhhh,” you moan, grappling on hand into his hair and bucking your hips just a little.  The movement proves fatal: your precarious position shifts you partly off the wall and gravity thrusts you into Kiba.  Well into his face, that is.  It’s a little mortifying to be honest.
Kiba smirks, a grin that seems to capture the entirety of his face.  His eyes slice up and lock with yours.  When he sees the blush on your face, he snickers and shoves your hips hard against the wall, forcing you back into your previous position.
“You like it that much?” he muses darkly, and you shiver.  The low octaves of his voice seem to concave into desire, which thuds so brilliantly through them that it’s honestly hard to pay attention to anything else.  Especially modesty.
“Yes!” you tell him, admitting it through your teeth.  Your eyes are narrowed slits that scream silently at him.  Beneath his fingers, Kiba can feel the pounding beat of your heart.  He can smell the wafting musk of your arousal.  He can sense the waves of heat and need that pour from your skin like a second ring of chakra.  With a snarl he pushes his face back into your folds and proceeds to utterly catch you off guard with sloppy, quick licks.  It’s like he suddenly can’t get enough of you, like he’s afraid he might combust from all the desire before he can get you to orgasm.
Well he doesn’t have to worry about that, because said orgasm breaches you so quickly and so suddenly that you can’t stop it and don’t want to.  It lifts you like a torrent of senseless passion that you can’t understand.  The incoherency of it drops like stones in a lake, plucking at the edges of your mind in much the same way until thought is overrated.  You can’t think anymore, all you can do is grasp his hair and the concrete wall and slam your head against it and come.  And that end is so stifling in its completion that you think you might be crying.  Crying Kiba’s name at least.  You just hope you’re not being too loud.
To Kiba, nothing’s too loud.  The exclamation of your finish and the way you twist his name erotically over your lips has him growling obscenely against you.  If anyone’s good at growling like that it’s Kiba and you shiver like you’re entire body has imploded from the inside out.  With a moan you pant against the wall and Kiba presses feather light kisses over your thighs and abdomen.  And then he gently extricates himself from the tangle of your legs, hands sliding to your rear as he shifts you down to solid ground.
But solid is the last thing you are.  You feel like all your bones have turned to ash.  When you stumble, Kiba lets out a soft exclamation of surprise and hurries to wrap his arms around you.  He tucks you pleasantly against his chest and chuckles.  The sound is sort of wicked, sort of amused, sort of aroused at the same time, and you know he’s about to tease you because he always laughs like that when he does.
“Never knew you liked that sort of stuff so much,” he mutters into your hair, and your eyes flutter shut.  He’s so full of it.  Then again you’d never felt that good when someone went down on you like that.  It had never been such a strong whirlwind of pleasure, so stifling that it could make you that crazy.  You’re sure it has something to do with the way Kiba sucked at you, as if you tasted so delicious that he couldn’t stop himself.  No one else had ever been so passionate about it before.
But instead of telling him this, you just clutched at the shirt he’s still wearing and tug at it.  He’d been right about this alleyway.  No one seems to come down it.  And so you feel a little more comfortable with the thought of nudity here in this sequestered world.  Apparently Kiba does too.
At your silent bidding, he reaches for his shirt and drags it off, his body flexing upwards.  His muscles are impressive, but then again you’d already known that.  You know Kiba like the back of your hand.  That doesn’t stop you from rushing forward to touch him though.  He watches you palm your hands against his chest, watching you trace around his nipples, watches you delve down to the hem of his jeans…and that’s where he stops you with a fierce longing look in his eye.  Clearly it takes a lot of self control to halt your progress.
“We shouldn’t…erm, go that far,” he says with a pause, aware that his words are rather hypocritical.  Because if he has his way, they are going that far.  But removing all their clothes in this semi-public space somehow seems a little more intimate than the situation calls for.
You frown and tell him, “I want to see all of you.”  The words are callous, bold, and much more like you.  He gives you a crooked grin and corners you against the wall, rubbing his achingly hard member against your thigh and watching the way you swallow in arousal at the move.
“I do too,” he admits, then clenches his jaw.  He’s holding himself back somehow.  It must be hard to do; Kiba has never had a lot of self control.  He clears his throat and mutters, “…But right now…[Name]…”  His words are a scintillating plea wrapped up in banked, smoking arousal.
You exhale and nod, and Kiba leans forward to kiss you.  The kiss is playful but solemn in a way you can’t explain.  It just is.  Everything with Kiba just is.  It’s teeth and tongue, slow and fast, passionate and dry.  With a grumble he pulls back and whispers, “Later on we can take our time, yeah?”  He looks a little bit sorry that he can’t do it now.
Instead of answering, you pull him closer.  Your arms tilt around his neck and you slip one leg around his waist, pushing your core against his with unabashed passion.  He immediately growls and tears forward, kissing you with a heady, syrupy intent that makes your thoughts all combust and your actions turn sluggish.  That’s okay, his actions aren’t and when he slides you back into the air, he proves it.
He drags his cock over your core like he’s possessed, crushing your sexes together as he kisses you.  It’s like he’s trying to push every part of himself against every part of you.  It doesn’t work, of course, until you murmur against his lips, “Kiba…” and the words make him stare, and make him jerk forward to take you.
The moment he slips inside you, your back arches and his name is gasped from your lips.  You’re already so wet from his ministrations before that Kiba growls deliriously, shifting his hips hard into yours and hilting himself into you on the second thrust.  It doesn’t hurt as much because you’re walls are slick and ready for him, but there’s still a drag of pain that accompanies his rough movements.  You curl into him, twisting both legs around his waist and clutching at his bare, broad shoulders.  He doesn’t seem aware of your pain and normally it would annoy you.  But there’s something sort of insane about him all of the sudden, like he’s turned into a beast who couldn’t stop even if you forced him to.  It’s extremely erotic even in the midst of the discomfort.
That discomfort doesn’t last very long though.  It’s not that he’s rough anyway, just a little out of control.  After a few minutes the pain evens out and is joined with pleasure, and the two twist together like to parts of a whole.  You grip him harder when you feel that shift, thinking suddenly that this is better than you could have hoped for.  Better because it’s Kiba, the man you’ve been in love with for years.
“Oh Kiba,” you moan, feeling your body suddenly ignite like it’s been torched with blazing fire.  He grunts and shoves himself into you hard, bruising you with the force.  But at the same time it astounds you, makes stars gather at the edges of your vision, and you cry out softly as your nails dig into his skin.  You drag them up his back like you’re trying to claw him and somehow it seems to make him that much crazier.  He growls in your ear and the sound of it has you melting against him, on the verge of explosion, your orgasm tearing a hole through your abdomen before you even realize what’s happening.
“Kiba!” you cry with a helpless sort of moan.  He jerks, hips surging and connecting with yours so fast that you can’t stop your orgasm from taking over you.  “Kiba,” you say again, and again.  His name is the outline of your mouth, the air that you breathe, the edge of your soul.  Your inner walls contract and clench, and Kiba murmurs your name too, dragging his cock out of you only to ram it back into the tight wetness of your arousal.  Oh it’s beautiful.  And it makes him insane.
“Oh fuck,” he cries, groaning deliciously in your ear.  His lips move over your lobe like he’s silently speaking.  You clench your fingers into his hair and press your cheek against his.  You can feel the stubble of his unshaved jaw rubbing against your smooth skin.  And that isn’t all you feel. 
He fills you up, hot and scorching as his seed explodes inside you.  His thrusts turn erratic.  His fingers clench around your rear and he trembles into you.  And suddenly his crazy chakra lessens.  It doesn’t disappear entirely but it does mostly go away, and when he turns to you his eyes aren’t red anymore, but their usual dark brown.
He presses his forehead against yours.  You smile at him, feeling tired.  You’d like nothing more than to lay down with him curled around you.  Maybe he sees this desire in your eyes or maybe he just wants the same thing, because Kiba pulls away and murmurs, “Come on, let’s go to my place.”
You mumble out a tired but very satisfied agreement and Kiba grins.  He reaches for his shirt and pulls it over his head quickly, fixing up his appearance.  You pull on your jeans and run your fingers through your hair.  When you slowly walk-stumble out of the alley, it feels like everyone’s watching you even though nobody is.  You fit yourself to Kiba’s side, his arm looped around your shoulders, and he presses a kiss to your temple.  By the time you reach Kiba’s apartment and make it inside, you remember how hungry you are.  He does too, but not quite in the same way.
“Kiba, I want some ramen!” you complain as you search through his kitchen cabinets.  They’re deplorably empty.  He doesn’t seem to care as he presses himself against you, kissing the length of your neck and tilting your head to the side.  His hands and everywhere and you have to admit that it feels sort of amazing. 
“And I want you,” he says in your ear, grinning when you shiver against him.  He’d never realized how easy it is to turn you on.  But he’s got a feeling that he’s going to enjoy doing it as much as he can in the future.
You turn around to tell him off but go silent when you do.  Something in his eye stops you; an emotion you can see clearly and even put a name to, because you feel it too.  He slowly pulls you into his arms, circles them around your hips, and leans into kiss you very softly.
Maybe you’d always known you were in love with Kiba.  Maybe he’d always known too, and that he loved you back.  But here in the center stage of passion and realization it doesn’t matter.  Nothing matters, but for the way he kisses you.  Softly, slowly, like he’s in love with you and can’t possibly stop himself.

~~~

Friday, May 15, 2015

A Neji Hyuuga Lemon -- Coquelicot

Character: Neji Hyuuga

Fandom: Naruto Shippuden

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: Do you guys realize that this is my first Neji lemon in about 2 years?!  Just started watching Naruto again.  Won't write any spoilers here but ohmygawdnejihowcouldyou *sob*


Neji Hyuuga is good at what he does.  His ANBU rank is only proof of his skills.  Your ANBU rank is proof of yours, too.
“You’re injured,” he says almost casually, but there’s nothing casual about the way his words angrily scrape the lower octaves of his voice.  Pale lavender eyes blink at you as you shut the door of the apartment and step inside.  You don’t respond immediately because you’re too busy kicking off your shoes and throwing your kunai pouch on the side table.  Oh what an amusing, common life you life when you aren’t on missions.  You even have a collection of porcelain dinnerware stashed in the cabinet for dinner parties. 
You still don’t answer him even when you make your way to the bedroom.  Neji trails after you, refusing to be ignored.  That’s okay, you don’t want to ignore him anyhow.  You just want to get closer to the bed that looms suggestively against the far wall.  After three weeks of an undercover mission you’re ready to lavish all your attention on your rather indisposed husband.  That’s right, husband.  And what a proud and motherly wife you’ve turned out to be.
You turn to him and he raises an eyebrow challengingly.  You’ve only been married a year but he knows lust when he sees it, and you’ve got a fair amount of it turning your eyes to darkness. 
“What are you planning?” he asks, even though he sort of already knows.  He’s known you your entire life after all, and if there’s anyone qualified to deal with you in your current state, it’s him.  Well, he wouldn’t allow other people to deal with you anyway.  You’re his wife and he’s rather possessive about that.
“I’m not planning anything,” you say breezily, turning away from him and unbuckling your armor.  The chest plate falls away with a thud and you hold back the flinch that threatens to crumble over your features.  But even though your back is to Neji, he still notices the way your shoulders stiffen just a little, the muscles of your neck strain, the long pause before you move again.  And he sighs, because he can’t believe you’re being so careless that you would try to ignore an injury.
“[Name], sit down.  I’ll get the first aid kit,” he orders.  His voice leaves little room for complaint or argument, and so you sit on the edge of the bed with a sigh.  He disappears for a moment into the bathroom and returns with the little white box filled with medication and bandages.  Then he sits down next to you and immediately reaches for your shirt, gently shifting it up your body and tossing it to the floor.  He looks at the slice on your shoulder with a clinical eye that makes you feel mildly fascinated.  Then again you could just be feeling that because you haven’t seen your husband in almost a month and you’ve missed him.  Dearly.
He glances at you and smirks, well aware of the desperate way you watch him, as if you could pounce at any moment.  He takes him time opening the first aid kit and slowly riffles through it, unconcerned that you’re getting more and more impatient with every passing second.  Finally, after it takes almost an entire minute for him to get the bandages and ointment out, you growl at him, “Neji.  Hurry up.” 
If anything, he looks even more amused.  His mouth twists up at the corner but he doesn’t chuckle.  He does hurry up though, even if it’s just a little bit. 
“Did you miss me while you were pretending to be someone else’s wife?” he asks idly, flashing his eyes into yours for a split second before fixing them on the wound he’s now working on.  His fingers gently clean it, removing pieces of metal that got stuck there from whatever fight you’d been in.  You pouted at his words because they really weren’t fair, but they were true nonetheless. 
“You know it was for a mission, Neji.  Stop being so irrationally jealous,” you mutter, secretly finding it funny that Neji could be both irrational and jealous at the same time.  He narrows his eyes at you and opens the jar of ointment, smothering it over the wound with a little less gentleness than he’d had before.  You hiss and glare, shirking away, but he follows easily enough.
“Did you sleep in the same bed with him?” he asks lowly, narrowed eyes still fixated on your wound.  You pause, then sigh and roll your eyes.
“I think you’re well aware that sharing details of ANBU missions is – “
“Did you or not?” he asked before you could finish, and you’re starting to get a little tired of his jealousy.  He’s not usually this bad.  Then again, you don’t usually go on undercover missions posing as someone else’s wife for three entire weeks.  You’d probably be annoyed too, if he had a similar mission.
But the answer he is looking for isn’t the answer he wants, and you turn your head away because you’d rather not tell him the truth.  The words ‘yes, we slept in the same damn bed’ don’t seem to have a whole lot of magic.  Unless you want the kind of magic that decapitates someone.
Your silence is all the answer he needs.  Neji frowns and unrolls the bandages, muttering a little when the end catches of the corner of the first aid kit.  Even in his annoyance though, he’s still gentle.  He always is, and he slowly wraps the bandage around your shoulder with practiced movements.  Then he silently snaps the box shut and rises, no doubt to put it away.  You watch, feeling a little bit powerless, not knowing what you should say to get rid of the giant elephant that’s suddenly taken up residence in your bedroom.
“Neji…” you begin, but he doesn’t stop.  He passes right by you and disappears into the hallway, leaving you gaping behind him on the bed.  Well that won’t do.  Not at all.
You frown and jolt forward, following him into the kitchen.  He silently turns the kettle on and reaches for the tin of tea leaves on the counter.  You cross your arms and watch him spoon some of the tea into the teacup, then slowly put the tin away.  And then he finally speaks, but it isn’t words that you’re expecting. 
“Did he…did you – “ he cuts himself off and stares hard at the opposite wall, frowning so much that the wrinkle between his eyebrows looks permanent.
You stare too, but your eyes are turning very surprised very quickly.  Is he actually asking what you think he is?  In a voice that could make ice refreeze, you ask, “Just what is it that you’re asking me, Neji Hyuuga?”
His eyes flash to yours and you know he’s more than a little chagrined, especially from the way you’ve reacted to his words.  He’s a fool.  A fool who is about to pay for his mistakes.  “We haven’t seen each other in a while, that’s all,” he slowly says, and then flinches a little.  “I mean – “
“I know exactly what you mean,” you cut in, eyes narrowed into slivers.  “You think I’ve cheated on you with a man I know nothing about, during a mission that could have easily taken my life!  You think I’d be more interested in getting some action instead of being alive?”  Well shit, that’s not what he meant at all.
Silence punctures the room so deafly that it could be cut with a knife.  You both stare at each other.  You’re breathing hard from your little rant and from all the wild emotions running through you.  Neji is standing perfectly still, almost like he does when he’s sparring with someone, like he thinks that one wrong move and he’s done for.  Well good, you think, because that wouldn’t be far from the truth. 
The water goes off.  The sound of the kettle whistles sharply through the room and Neji hurries to shut it off.  He pauses for a moment, then takes it off the stove and pours the boiling water into the teacup.  You stare at him hard when he brings it to you, setting it down on the counter near where you’re standing.
“…Forgive me,” he says finally, “Of course I don’t think that.”  He takes a step closer and rubs his hands over both your arms, sighing out slowly.  “It feels like I haven’t seen you in months.”  And it really does.
You’d known how your missions would affect your marriage long before you agreed to become his wife.  Both being ANBU ninja certainly takes its toll, especially when your mission schedules overlap.  But you wouldn’t change anything.  You love him and you love being married to him too, even if he is sometimes irrational and jealous to boot.
“Don’t you know I love you?” you whisper, sounding a little hoarse.  It’s probably because you’re tired, sore, and sad.  Neji’s fingers tighten around your arms and he swallows back a wave of guilt for thinking so ill of you.
“Of course,” he says quietly, “Of course I do.”  Then he steps closer and brings you against his chest, circling his arms around your waist and tightly holding you to him.  Into your hair he breathes, “I’m sorry.” 
You close your eyes and hug him back, but to his surprise you don’t immediately accept his apology, rare as it is.  Instead you merely chuckle darkly and say, “It’ll take more than a few words to earn your forgiveness, Neji Hyuuga.”  And he stiffens, pauses, looks down at you.  He raises one eyebrow in curious amusement and the corner of his mouth twists up.
“Oh really?  What do I have to do then?”  He’s a tiny bit wary at the sight of your mischievous smile, but only a tiny bit.  He’s much more excited than wary, something you seem well aware of.
“Wellll…I suppose you should take your clothes off first, and then we can go from there.”  Your smile turns into the most alluring smirk he’s ever seen and Neji shivers very softly.  Your suggestion has his entire body lighting up, as if awakening from a long dream.  His veins curls with a fire that spreads, burning so easily through his body and pooling between his legs.  It must’ve been a long time since the last time, because apparently tonight it isn’t taking much to turn him on.
He grunts low, his voice slipping darkly over his throat, “All my clothes?”  His eyes flash in such a way that makes it clear to you what he’s thinking: that he’d much prefer you stripping down first.  You’re the one shivering this time, and Neji smirks at the tiny success.
You hum and lean forward, flicking his shirt with your fingers and plucking it off his chest.  “Every…last…one,” you murmur, pressing a husky kiss to his collarbone.  His throat tightens and he groans very softly, obviously enjoying the way your lips burn his skin.  Another shiver rips through him violently.
“Hnn…” he reaches for his shirt and heaves it up.  His body stretches upward as he does, the muscles of his chest shifting and rippling beneath his skin.  You enjoy that and he knows it.  With a smirk he slowly reaches for his pants, takes his time undoing them and shuffles them an inch down his hips…then stops.  What a tease, you think, and narrow your eyes at him.
“Turn around,” is all he says, and you gape.  Turn around?!  You’ve seen him naked more times that you can count and he wants you to turn around!  “Neji – “ you start to say, fully intending on complaining your way around whatever obstacle is now in the way, but he only cuts you off.
“Turn around, [Name],” he says again, but darker this time, with more force and wicked abandon and promise.  His eyes cut the air between you to ribbons.  Molecules of oxygen are forced apart and so are you, and with a pumping aching burning heart you turn around.  Because when he looks like that and talks like that, you really can’t do anything else.
The shuffle of cloth sounds behind you, tickling the air softly.  You hear the telltale sound of Neji stepping out of his pants.  You hear something else, too, a gentle snapping sound.  It takes you a few muddy, foggy seconds to realize that it’s his hair tie and that he’s now naked and has his hair down: a combination that makes you utterly delirious and with good reason. 
“Your chakra is going crazy,” he mutters with a smirk, and his voice is suddenly behind you, so close that you can feel his breath cascading over your ear.  You shiver like a leaf in the wind, but the anticipated excitement you feel is nothing compared to the moment when Neji actually touches you.
It’s a gentle, unassuming touch.  But unassuming touches are usually the kind that startles a person into passion.  His hands come up to engulf your shoulders.  One moves up to your neck and curls around the slender curve of it.  The other shifts just slight to encompass your chest.  His fingers branch out over your collarbone and his palm rests just above your heart, which has accelerated so much that you fear it might run off without you. 
Your head tips back and Neji leans down, his breath drifting along your neck.  His thumb burns the underside of your jaw, tracing it very lightly.  His other hand moves too, but only to brush the straps of your bra off both your shoulders.  He sighs out and that one little sound has the potential to make you absolutely crazy.  Your eyes flutter closed.  You lean into him and raise your fingers to touch his hand, the one on your chest.  You drag that hand down to your breast and press it against you, and Neji growls very low and accepts the invitation.  He squeezes his fingers around the cup of your bra but it’s not enough.  He wants to feel your skin, the indescribably soft skin of your nipples…and so he curls both hands around your back and grapples with the hooks of your bra, cursing all the way.
You laugh a little as he forcefully rips the bra from your body, amused when it lands in the sink with the dishes.  That amusement lasts mere seconds and dies the moment Neji’s hands are sliding over your breasts.  And then he’s dragging you against him and squeezing you and kissing your neck with such abandon you can’t breathe.  It’s like the gates of his passion have been released and may possibly never be shut again.
He drags his hands over your breasts, lifting them in his palms and thumbing over the soft pink skin around your nipples.  With a groan he nips at your neck, then your earlobe, flicks his tongue around the shell of it and whispers hoarsely, “You’re so soft…”  You hum in agreement and sigh, enjoying the way he strokes you, up and down and again.  It’s like he can’t get enough of touching your breasts, of getting reacquainted with the body he knows so well. 
“Neji…mm, can I turn around now?” you ask, glancing up at his face.  He folds his arms around your waist and cages you against him tightly, then mutters, “I’m not done with you yet.”  And he leans down to kiss you.  The kiss is awkward at first because it’s sort of sideways-upside down, but soon Neji is sinking into your lips with a moan and it’s not awkward anymore.  Instead it’s only marvelous and colorful and beautiful. 
You reach up to palm the side of his face and moan, kissing him back tenderly and trying to pour all your emotions out.  He bites down gently on your bottom lip and drags it into his mouth, sliding his tongue over it.  At the same time his hands reach down to your pants and you shiver, well aware of what’s next.
He flicks your pants undone but doesn’t tug them off.  Instead he merely slips one hand inside them, curling around your core and slipping two fingers between your folds.  You immediately gasp, arch your back and grasp onto his arms for support. 
“Looks like you’re all ready for me,” he observes in a too-casual voice.  You whimper a little as he slips a finger inside you, pumping a few times before retreating again to flick over the bundle of nerves at the top of your clit.  That little move makes you crazy.  Your nails dig into his arm and he chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.  “Do you know what I’ve been wanting to do for weeks now?” he asks quietly, and catches your eye with a smile.
You laugh breathlessly and whisper, “No idea…”  Even though you actually have a pretty good idea as to what he’s referring to.  He rubs you in a swift circular motion that makes you bite your lip.  Then he takes hold of your pants and firmly shifts them down your hips, enjoying every inch of skin that is revealed to his observing gaze.
“Let me show you,” he says, helps you kick the last of your clothes off, and then proceeds to knock you off said feet – literally.  You laugh as he lifts you up, clutching your body tightly and possessively.  As he makes his way to the bedroom, you shift a strand of his hair out of his face and muse, “You’re not letting me stay angry with you, you know.”
He smirks and responds with a promising, “I’ll earn my forgiveness my own way.  I’m sure you’ll like it.” 
“Mm…I’m sure I will,” you quip back, right before he tosses you none too gently onto the mattress.
That’s about the moment when you get a good look at him, something you hadn’t been able to do before.  He’s hard and ready, looking absolutely glorious as he stands above you.  That doesn’t last for very long though, because then Neji is sinking down onto the mattress and kneeling between your legs.  He smirks down at you and shifts them farther apart before leaning down and kissing your thigh.  You swallow at the sight he makes, buried between your legs.  It’s more arousing than you were expecting, but then again it doesn’t compare to when his lips make contact with your clit.
You let out a little half sigh-half moan that Neji seems to appreciate, because he hooks his fingers around yours and squeezes them gently in a reassuring way.  His tongue licks the length of your clit, lapping at you like an animal before nestling his lips against your folds and sucking.  And that’s what really gets to you more than anything else – that soft sucking, the way stars seem to appear out of thin air and cloud your vision into a ragged mess. 
His tongue enters you, gently rubbing against your inner walls.  Your chest heaves like you can’t fill your lungs all the way.  “Neji!” you gasp, “Th-that’s good.”  Your fingers grasp his tightly and your other hand grapples with the sheets like you’re trying to pull them entirely off the bed.  Neji hums and the vibrations make you lost, like your head is spinning round and round.  Your orgasm feels like it’s seconds from exploding through you, like it’s about to tear a warpath right through your body and never stop.  And it does – right about when Neji sinks his teeth very gently into your folds and then proceeds to focus the brunt of his attention on the bundle of nerves at the top of your clit.
“Neji!” you cry, twisting his fingers tightly.  He chuckles and keeps his pace, bringing you to a high that makes you feel faint almost, because it’s been so long since you’ve had such a powerful orgasm.  “Oh God…” you mumble, feeling extremely fulfilled.  Especially when Neji raises his head and smirks down at you, and you see your juices shining over his lips and chin.  You watch his wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You’re amazing,” you breathe as he crawls into your arms.  When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on him and though it should by all accounts disgust you, you can only sink into his lips with a moan. 
His body folds over yours, skin rushing, meeting like a heat wave in a dry desert.  That heat seems to span out for miles, rolling and submerging into the not so blank canvas of your desire for him.  You curl your arms around his neck and tunnel your fingers into his long, soft hair.  And silently, silently, he eases your legs around his waist and enters you. 
Words are wasteful things when two souls are busy careening forward and backwards and sideways all at once.  The only word you need is his name, which drifts between you quietly as he slides into you.  “Neji,” you sigh, and he buries himself into your folds and stays like that, in that warm wet purgatory, until you sigh again and reach up to touch his face.
There is a sweet sort of passion in the way you look up at him, and it makes his heart burn and criss cross delicate soliloquies into the air between you.  He leans down, kisses you, then his hips surge back and he thrusts forward.  The force of it is subtle, gentle, but it increases with each pass of his hips.  Soon it isn’t only gentle but desperate too, and the subtly has transformed into something resembling pleasure.
You exhale loudly and cling to him, legs tightly clasped around his waist.  You meet every downward thrust of his hips with a surging thrust of your own.  A few minutes in and you’ve become used to the grunting gasps that Neji presses into your hair and the sweaty slide of your bodies moving in tandem.  It’s a beautiful mess of breath and sweat and musky pleasure and moans.  Moans that you contribute to, as well.  But as much as you enjoy feeling his weight gently crush you down, a little vengeance is still in order. 
That vengeance is what prompts you to hook your leg down around the backs of his knees and, when he least expects it, flip him over with a force to be reckoned with.  Neji’s wide eyes stare up at you from his new position below.  The thrusts have stopped and so have the moans, and the grunts of pleasure.  You smirk down at him and grapple with his hands when he tries to reach for you, no doubt to return you to your submissive place beneath him.
“Tsk,” you mutter, wrestling his arms away and locking them above his head.  You quite like it when he fights back.  It’s one thing to see him fighting in a normal battle and quite another to see him fighting with you, naked, pressed beneath you and inside you.  The ripple of muscle and flesh makes your mouth water but you don’t do anything.  Not yet.  Instead you merely smirk and say quietly, “You call that earning your forgiveness?”  You’re going to make him earn more than just forgiveness now.
His eyes narrow and he struggles, writhing beneath you with such adamancy that you have to force back a moan.  His cock shifts within you, rubbing tantalizingly against your inner walls.  And besides that immense pleasure, he also looks ridiculously hot when he’s struggling.  Probably because Neji Hyuuga doesn’t struggle, especially not when it comes to sex.  Well, not until he met you that is.
“[Name]…” he growls warningly, clenching his fingers around yours so tightly that they turn white.  You glower back and circle your hips, dragging his cock around inside you and watching his eyes flutter from the move.  He underestimates your strength as well as your determination.  You’ll set that straight.
“Neji,” you say a little mockingly, and his eyes narrow even more.  He’s angry, but only a little.  You know it’s probably just because he’s upset that you took away his power and dominance. 
You lean down and press your breasts to his chest.  They pillow out against him and he shivers.  Your nipples are hard, taut, and he can feel them very distinctly.  He throws his head down and frowns, thrusting his hips forcefully up and taking you off guard, but only a little bit.  You’ve been expecting a move like that and easily intercept it, rising your hips at the same time so that his cock ends up pulling out of you.  Neji groans when it does and mutters, “Let go of me, [Name].”
You sit back on his now freed cock and circle your hips over it, enjoying the hardness of him against your folds.  His eyes flutter again but this time he looks much more desperate, and you tilt your head to tell him, “Only if you behave yourself.  If you want to earn your forgiveness, I want to fuck you like this.”
He growls, both at your words and the order behind them.  “Fine,” he bites out after a second of consideration.  He’s rock hard and feels like he could come just from the way you’re moving your hips above his member.  He needs to be inside you.  The circumstances of how that happens aren’t as important.  And besides, he can always get you back later.
“But let me go, I want to touch you,” he adds, and the clause of the agreement makes you shrug.  You let him go, slowly dragging your hands away from his and down his chest.  Your fingers idly trace his muscles, delving further and further down until you reach his cock.  The hard flesh strains into your hand as you pull it up and guide it into you, and Neji moans out lowly when he feels your hot walls enclose around him once more.
“Fuck,” he says, thrusting a little.  The movement makes him see stars.  His orgasm is so close that he can already feel is pounding at his body.  “I’m not gonna last long, [Name].  I can’t.”  It’s been too long since he’s been inside you and it feels too good.
“Just come,” you tell him, hands fixing themselves against the headboard.  He reaches down to grasp your waist, hands smoothing over your skin and coming to rest on your thighs.  One reaches back to clutch at your rear, dragging the skin into his hand and pulling you closer.  You start off at an unforgiving pace, bouncing over him quickly and desperately.  You’re nearing your end too, and every thrust brings you closer to it.  And the sight of Neji beneath you, hair strewn out over the pillows and expression equally desperate, makes your end come that much faster.
“Neji!” you cry, spearing yourself down on his cock.  He groans and thrusts upward, meeting you halfway and perhaps a little more.  Even below you he retains some dominance, but that’s okay because it’s quite frankly sexy as hell.  You stare at him and he stares at you and the despair in his eyes makes your body snap in half.  Your orgasm thunders through your with a sudden clarity that makes you gasp out, thrusts quickening as your inner walls clench down around him.  The tightness of that clenching movement makes him groan, moaning your name lowly and throwing his head back into the pillows.  His orgasm is so beautiful that you can’t help but stare, taking it all in. 
His nails dig into you and his muscles strain.  His eyes flutter closed.  You feel him fill you with such heat that you think you might catch on fire at any moment, but you don’t.  Your heart is beating loudly and your chest is heaving.  Beneath you Neji doesn’t move, his eyes are still closed and his face is fulfilled and peaceful, tranquil even.  You smile and lower yourself down to rest on him, burying your face against his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his skin.
He sighs and wraps his arms around you, so firmly that it feels like he’s trying to press you right into him and become one person instead of two.  Silence gently cascades around you, broken only when Neji quietly wonders, “What’s your verdict?”
For a moment you don’t know what he’s talking about.  Your mind is foggy and muddy like a stream in early spring.  It takes you a few seconds to remember that you were angry at him before, angry that he thought you were capable of cheating on him.  The thought still angers you a little bit, but you aren’t interested in fueling that emotion right now.  Right now all you’re interested in doing is laying here with him and trying to catch the breath you lost sometime between ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘prove it’.
“Mmm…” you moan sluggishly, and Neji chuckles.  With a sigh you mumble, “I forgive you.”
He press his lips against your hair and reaches down to throw your leg over his, tucking his hand around your thigh possessively.  “I still have to get you back for that little move you pulled though…” 
His words make you laugh.  You push yourself onto your elbows and lean over him, raising an eyebrow.  Your lips bump together.  “You liked it.”
His eyes gleam.  “I did not,” he insists, but the way he smiles says otherwise.  You laugh again and this time he join in, chuckling lowly, his breath drifting over your neck.
Words are wasteful when two souls are busy reclaiming intimacy.  That’s why you throw such things away and instead lean down to kiss him.  Neji curls his fingers into your hair and drags you closer, molding his mouth so deeply with yours that you forget everything – the arguments, the missions, the absences – and just immerse yourself in what’s most important.  Him.

~~~

Sunday, May 10, 2015

A Belphegor Lemon -- Skate Into Monochrome

Character: Belphegor

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

OC: Quintana, stubborn, slightly manipulative and teasing~

Inspiration: Bel is jealous.  He decides to have his revenge sweet and merciless.  ß is aware it sounds like a book cover :3  Enjoy!


She had no idea how it got to this point.  One moment she was accidentally tripping on the dais of Xanxus’s stupid throne and the next she was landing face first into the self-imposed royalty’s lap.  It had been a completely horrifying experience because she happened to land with her nose pressed directly into his crotch – which would have of course been utterly mortifying on its off days.  Except that today it was especially so, because the moment it happened, the door flung open and in sauntered Belphegor.  And the other self-imposed royal did not seem to appreciate his self-imposed mistress with her face shoved so close to another man’s cock.
It took him all of three seconds to give a terrifyingly wide grin and drag several strings of knives out of his clothes.  Quin herself could only kneel there in front of Xanxus (a twitching, blankly confused Xanxus) and stared at her lover with huge eyes.  The misunderstanding only got worse when their leader raised an eyebrow, glanced at her, and smirked.  “If that’s your way of volunteering your services, maybe you should wait till we’re alone.” 
She drew away as if she’d been slapped – because she hadn’t volunteered her services, she’d tripped for fuck’s sake – but the words had already done their damage.  Belphegor had turned his hidden-but-undoubtedly-furious eyes on Quin, probably thinking that she had, indeed, ‘volunteered’ to fall into someone else’s lap.  And because she knew Belphegor pretty well by now, she merely sighed and tipped her head to the sky as if praying, unsurprised when she felt his cold fingers roughly wrap around her neck and pull her forcefully behind him.  She was definitely in for it now.
“Belphegor – “
He quickened his pace, his long legs near to running.  Quin’s shorter frame was pulled haphazardly behind his, face reddening because his fingers were still pressing tightly around her neck.  His rough handling of her was only just beginning, though.
She scowled and insisted, “Belphegor – “  But he only turned his head and gave her a look.  A look that quite clearly told her to shut her mouth if she knew what was good for her.  But she had never been one to care much for her own safety.  Living with the Varia and being Belphegor’s ‘royal mistress’ did that to a person.  And so a moment later she scoffed and angrily said, “You’re dragging this way out of proportion.  It was a complete mis- “
A moment later and she was shoved roughly against the wall, furious dark eyes peering down at her through strands of blonde hair.  Other than those eyes of his, he was fairly calm: his body was controlled, his breathing normal.  That was how she knew that he was angrier than usual.
“A misunderstanding – “ she tried to hurry to tell him, lest he did something he’d later regret.  Like kill her or something.  His fingers twitched around her neck and he pressed harder, squeezing her words into a jumble of breathy whispery useless sound.  He looked as if he either wanted to bury one of his knives into her chest or kiss her senseless, and she weren’t sure which one would be better.  Angry intimacy wasn’t exactly safe when it came to Belphegor, who was rough and bloody on his gentle days.
His lips curved up into that insane smile and he whispered, “Shishishi.  Imagine how shocked I was to find my mistress with her mouth on that bastard’s cock.  And to hear how she volunteered to put it there…”  Oh but his voice was dangerous, shaded with layer upon layer of that brilliant violence.  She thought she’d die just from the glare he sent her.
She wanted to tell him once and for all that she had done nothing of the sort, that he was being ridiculously jealous where there was no need for it.  But she never got the chance, and wouldn’t either, not until his anger had dissipated enough for him to see sense.  And so when she scrabbled at his chest and clutched to his shirt, trying to get him to let go of her because she couldn’t fucking breathe damn it, Belphegor made up his mind.  He sneered down at Quin, forced his thumb beneath her chin to push her head up, and then crashed his mouth furiously against hers in a toothy, bloody, fierce kiss that made her jolt against him in a silent gasp.
His hand still wrapped tight to her throat, Belphegor crushed her to the wall, restricting her breathing even as he forced his own down her throat.  His lips were rough but soft, the skin unbroken as they burned over hers.  The rest of him was not soft at all, though: his teeth were brutal and they bit down on her mouth; his tongue wicked as he lapped up the blood he drew. 
“Mmmmmmm…” Quin moaned, but Bel knew it was more of a complaint than a sound of pleasure.  He growled at the sound of it and released his hand from her throat, allowing her unadulterated breath as his hands roamed elsewhere.  Nowhere was safe from him: her breasts felt sore even now as he buried his hands beneath her shirt and squeezed them hard.  His nails drew red welts up her back, digging so fiercely into her pale skin that she swore she felt the drop of blood is several places.  And sure enough, when he brought his fingers back, his nails were crimson.  But fuck it all to hell, he looked sexy when he brought those fingers to his lips and sucked the blood away, peering down at her all the while with those dangerous eyes.
He took several moments to look down at his handiwork, eyes flickering over her form as he stood with his arms crossed.  She was shivering, shaking against the wall gasping so harshly that he wondered idly if perhaps he crushed her esophagus a little too much.  Her lips were trembling and bloody, crimson droplets darting from the corner of her mouth to her chin and dripping casually to her white shirt. 
He followed their progression and noted with pleased eyes that her nipples were all but straining against that shirt, hard and taut and ready to be sucked.  He wanted to see the extent of her back too, but for that her shirt would have to be removed.  And for that, the privacy of his room would be preferable to a hallway.  He was the only one allowed to see her.  His hardness her pretty little mouth was allowed suck. 
And so he raised his eyes back to hers and Quin swallowed at the emotions behind them, fully aware of what he was thinking.  When he reached down to snatch up her wrist again, she was thoroughly unsurprised to find herself being dragged yet again behind him.  Only this time she was fully aware of their destination and what awaited her there.
Bel’s room was luxurious.  There was no other way to describe it.  The floor length windows were of the same variety as every other in the Varia compound, except his were draped with expensive satin curtains that sheered the sunlight into muffled, lovely blue tones.  The walls were the same too, but his were fitted with lovely vibrant paintings framed with vintage, golden painted wood.  And the bed, the bed was strewn with gorgeous fabrics, all silks and Egyptian cottons and plush furs.  It was a bed fit for a prince.  A prince and his mistress that is.
He pushed Quin inside the breathtaking room and closed the door behind him, locked it without sparing it a glance, and dragged her to the bed a moment later.  Then he gathered her up into his arms and muttered darkly, “Strip and lay on your stomach.”  She sighed, and obeyed. 
The sweater was peeled off and flung to the floor, leaving her bloody blouse to cling to her back.  Her leather leggings came next, followed by her panties.  When she was half bare before him, Bel nodded stoically to the bed and Quin dropped herself onto it, shifting into the middle of the mattress before twisting onto her stomach.  She had absolutely no idea what he was planning: his face was carefully blank when she peered up at him, and he gave nothing away.
Perhaps that was why she was so surprised when he didn’t reach for the knife she’d expected him to.  Instead Bel shuffled onto the mattress, straddled the backs of her thighs, and began to massage her rear in the loveliest, gentle, most non-angry way ever.  It shocked her so much that Quin rose onto her elbows and turned her head to stare at him.  And Bel merely blinked back, raising an eyebrow.  Then he suddenly drew a hand up into the air and slapped it back down so hard that she gasped and buried her face into the pillows with a moaning whine.  Because even though she was loathe to admit it, that slap was highly arousing and even better than any knife-play he might’ve turned to instead.
Belphegor narrowed his eyes at her and reached down to twist a hand into her hair, painfully dragging her head up.  “I think you need to be reminded whose mistress you are.”  The words were angry and he began clawing her back again, dragging his nails roughly down her skin then bending over to lick at the blood.  The way his tongue flicked all the way from her lower back to her shoulders had Quin biting her lip and pounding with desire.
“Bel…please – “
“Please?” his teeth suddenly sunk into her shoulder blade hard enough to pierce the skin, and she writhed as the painful pleasure beat her down.  Or was that just his hand, striking her once more on the ass and forcing stinging passion through her veins?  “Please what, wench?”
Oh, so she’d gone from ‘mistress’ to ‘wench’ had she?  That was a demotion if there ever was one, but she couldn’t give it much thought.  She only cried out, eyes watering as the intensity of arousal overcame her.  God she wanted him.  Wanted him so badly and in such a short amount of time that it the desire was almost brutal.
Another slap, another bite, and she was sobbing out a pleading, “Please fuck me.  Please fuck me Bel!  Please – “
“Che,” Bel muttered, leisurely wrapping a hand over her mouth and muffling the begging whines.  “No way.  You need to be punished for your betrayal first.”  And Quin moaned, derision making her voice lower.  The betrayal he was speaking of was nonexistent – she wouldn’t betray Bel even if she wanted to.  She’d be way too scared of the repercussions.  And now she had a pretty good idea as to what they were.
His breath descended, his lips careening down her back.  Suddenly his teeth were sinking rather roughly into her hip, immediately followed by a quick lick as he lapped up the edges of the bite mark.  It was shallow enough where it did not bleed, and that was practically a blessing when it came to him.  It also a message: a message that he was getting too aroused to bother with any more punishment.
She wriggled her hips and lifted her head, glancing back at him.  Through the thick atmosphere that had built up precariously between them, their eyes locked and shuttered.  The image seemed to blur, like a camera flickering through its settings, and when the picture finally came into focus Quin felt almost as if she had lost some significant portion of the message.  As if she had fainted and returned, only to find the moment lost. 
Bel pushed her head back down, forcing her cheek against the mattress while his other hand dragged his zipper down.  He was freeing his member soon after.  Quin could just barely see him from where she lay, but it mattered little.  She could feel him, the hardness of him as he rubbed his cock along her folds.  She could feel his calloused fingertips impatiently shift her legs apart.  She couldn’t see him but it was fine, because the rest of her senses filled in the gaps that her vision could not bridge.
“Lift your hips, wench,” Bel muttered.  His voice sounded like sandpaper, roughly scratching over the lower octaves of his voice and shaving off unnecessary syllables.  Quin whimpered at it, at the way it could make her ache so strongly and want him so badly.  She shifted her hips, but was apparently too slow in her obedience.  Bel scoffed angrily and heaved her up the rest of the way, forcing her on her knees.  Hardly a moment later he was sinking himself inside her, and he wasn’t particularly gentle about it. 
Quin couldn’t find it in her to complain.  She was used to his roughness, his edges and cliffs.  She was used to his manipulative nature and his anger, and yet also used to the rare moments where she would find herself in his arms.  Where he would show her a much more vulnerable and strangely endearing side of him.
She whimpered.  From above, Bel stared down the curve of her back, eyes shifting over every bump of her spine as it unfurled before him.  His fingers dug into her rear as his hips crashed against hers.  His pace was an immediate drag of unforgiving power, the likes of which she could feel burning the very depths of her. 
“Bel…Belphegor!” she cried, pressing her face into the mattress.  The red silk sheets felt sinfully good even though she was only half undone.  It didn’t matter, and Bel didn’t seem to have a problem with her haphazard appearance.  All he seemed to care about was keeping his pace as hard and unforgiving as he could. 
Tears trickled down Quin’s face, landing in wet droplets on the crumbled silk.  She could feel him everywhere, burning and searing pain through her core.  But with that pain was an immeasurable amount of pleasure that she could not explain, only drown in.  She found that she both loved and hated this, and him as well.  Yet she couldn’t get enough of his movements, the physicality of their union, and on an even deeper level, his barely-there reverence.  The hint that even in all this pain he still revered her, worshiped her, maybe even loved her.
Suddenly everything stopped, and Bel withdrew from her.  He grasped her ankle and shoved her onto her back in one fluid, solid movement that she was not expecting.  Because it was so unexpected, she went easily and without a fight.  Bel instantly straddled her, pressing his knees to either side of her hips and immediately reaching for her blouse.  The fabric still clung to her loosely, though it had torn in several places.  He hadn’t bothered taking it off before but seemed to have a change of heart now.  With movements that were far too slow to her liking, Bel began to unbutton the shirt from the bottom up, clearly taking his time as he blinked down at her reaction.
Said reaction was more desperate than he was prepared for.  Perhaps it had to do with her own desires, the way he’d stopped fucking her so quickly.  Perhaps it merely had to do with the way his hard, wet cock was currently pressed against her abdomen as he leaned over her.  Whatever it was, Bel was enjoying the way she was gasping, eyes tightly closed in anticipation.
“Che.  You look like a wench, wench.”  The last button came undone and he pushed her shirt aside, going in to unclip her bra.  His fingers brushed over her skin and she bit her lip, chin pushing into the air as she waited for his hands to reach her breasts.  When they did, she couldn’t stop the small mewling moan that gently pushed from her lips.  The sound was so soft in all that roughness that it made Bel momentarily lost, and he stared down at her with eyes that said as much.
“I’m not a wench,” Quin told him, stronger than she expected.  Her voice was ragged but not so ruined that she couldn’t defend yourself.  He was clearly not anticipating it either, because Bel leaned back, his hands drifting away from her breasts to linger on her abdomen.  He tilted his head and she took it as a sign for her to go on.
With a jolt of muscle Quin rolled up, curling her legs around his waist to anchor herself there.  The movement pushed her face to face with Bel, so close that she could count each individual eyelash lining his curious, cat-like eyes.  So close she could almost feel his heart pulsing through the pocket of sound between them.  He blinked and waited. 
“I’m a princess,” Quin said, narrowing her eyes, “and I didn’t cheat on you with Xanxus of all people, so just fuck me already Belpha – mm!”
She wasn’t sure if he liked or disliked her use of the word ‘princess’, but she certainly enjoyed the rough quality of his lips as they attacked hers.  At once she was pushed back into the mattress and Bel was leaning over her, and his hands were everywhere.  The room became a vacuum, suckering away all else and forcing her focus only on Bel.
“Ooohh…” she moaned, because a moment later his fingers were sharply searing over her clit, rubbing her none too gently and easily blending her pleasure and her pain together into one messily tattered dream world.  If this was his punishment then she’d gladly take it, but of course it didn’t end there.  Before she could collect herself, his fingers were being replaced with his cock.  He slid so easily, so swiftly inside her that she almost didn’t realize what was happening until he started thrusting. 
His pace was sinful, wickedly fast and delirious.  Whatever delicate grip she had on reality utterly shattered and Quin pushed her head back into the mattress, fingers clenching around his shoulders as he rammed her down.  The force of it all was enough to make her hips ache, doubtless bruises patterning her skin.  Her thighs hurt too, from where his fingers dug into them, but she couldn’t complain.  She could only lay there and blink up at him with lips parted in silent, reverent gasps.  And he blinked right back, somehow calm in all this stormy tangled lovemaking.  Somehow princely.
“Bel…Bel!” she moaned, and for once he didn’t tell her to shut up.  Instead he just smirked down at her and his pace rushed ever faster, spinning her for a loop and possessing her with every brash, domineering motion.
“You didn’t fuck that bastard?” he asked, though his voice was more of a rough shift of dark syllables than a question.  His hair was messily strewn over his forehead but she could still see his eyes, and the crinkled anger passion in them made her orgasm thunder through her so quickly that she could hardly keep up.  Yet he wouldn’t allow her to come, not yet, not until she gave him an answer. 
“N-no!  I tripped,” she sobbed, clenching his shoulders so hard that the skin broke and droplets of blood ran down his pale skin.  “I’m yours…yours…Belphagor…!”
Apparently it was good enough, because he grunted and threw himself forward, hips pushing hers down and dragging her into an orgasm that made her wonder if perhaps she’d died and was shooting through time itself.  With a sobbing gasp she came, and her orgasm was just as rough as the way he loved her, and stars clouded her vision and pulled it apart, and then she could only see him.  And that was even better than stars or universes recoiling with light.
“Che,” he muttered, pulling out of her.  His cock was still hard and she knew the night was far from finished.  He did, too.
“Come over here and suck me off, princess,” he told her.  She stared, he blinked.  Then with a glowing smile she rolled over and crawled between his legs, taking him into her mouth without preamble and enjoying the grunting sort of moan that left his lips as she began sucking.
“Princess?” she asked much later, when they had collapsed together in a tangled heap of limbs and rasping silence.  He narrowed his eyes at her and gave her hair a generously painful yank before continuing to thread his fingers through it.  She shook silently with laughter and pressed a kiss against his chest.  Inside, She was happily lethargic and his new elevated name for her rang round and round about her head.  Each pass of it cemented it into existence.  Each touch of his fingers gently folding over Quin’s head made her think that perhaps love was not so black and white as She’d always believed, loving Bel.  Because even he was a contrast, a mass of gray tiles between the whites and sandwiched sideways against the blacks.  She would never tell him she loved him, but perhaps she would journey more precariously into the grays of their affection.

~~~