Monday, March 16, 2015

A Spain Lemon - Paint the Rain

Character: Spain

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: Aeta, curious, somewhat shy

Inspiration: Enjoy~


That afternoon it rained.  Torrents of water came rushing over the roof like little waterfalls.  The trickling sound of its passing was utterly wiped out by the larger, more daunting sound of heavy water pelting the glass windows.  It was a symphony of nature.
The rain brought cool relief in the height of summer.  The week had been sweltering hot and lonely.  Antonio had gone to Paris to see Francis and Gilbert, and Aeta had been pleased at the prospect of being alone for a little while, but even she had to admit that it had gotten old pretty quickly.  So in a fit of abandon she threw the porch door open and propped it up with a kitchen chair.  Standing in the doorway with the overcast sky and the sounds of busy, angry rain bulleting down around her, she felt her loneliness drip away with the rain.  And then she decided to do something she hadn’t done in a long time.  She got out her paints and started painting.
It was in this way that Antonio eventually found her, nearly two hours later.  It was still deluging and he had just gotten back from Madrid, where he had landed at the airport.  As he drove toward his home, he was amazed at the sheer force of the storm and a little excited too, for he loved the rain and hadn’t seen it in a while.  His love for the rain, however, was drown out by his love for someone else the moment he stepped out of his car.
He saw Aeta quite clearly, sitting in the ring of light that the kitchen provided as it spun out onto the porch.  She had a canvas propped before her and was wearing a long chiffon skirt that he would love to get his hands under.  He stood for a moment in the rain, staring at the way her slender wrist flickered over the canvas, directing the paintbrush with a grace that made him strangely aroused in all this hectic weather. 
His fingers twitched around his luggage.  He wanted to kiss that wrist, trace the veins beneath the skin with his tongue, drag that hand down to his trousers and squeeze those fingers around his cock.  He suddenly wanted to do many things of that nature, but then Aeta’s eyes crashed into his and she stood quickly, exclaiming, “Antonio!  What are you doing, standing in the rain like that?!”
Imagining you bare with water dripping down that glorious skin, he thought with a leering smirk.  The week he’d spent with his two rather lecherous friends had made him much more susceptible to heady desires.  He was twitching just thinking about it and couldn’t stop imagining pushing her over the edge of that railing and taking her from behind.  Not gentle.  He’d be hard, rough and callous.  Desperate with desire for her as he’d been for days.  He doubted she’d mind –
“Come on, Antonio,” Aeta called, raising her eyebrows as she wondered why he was just standing there in the middle of this pouring rain.  He was staring at her with an odd look in his eyes, but at this distance and in this dark gray atmosphere, she couldn’t see the emotions that captured him.  Just as well, Antonio thought, and lifted his luggage up, closed his car door, and stepped toward the porch.  The moment he was within reach, Aeta took his bag from him and frowned.
“You’re soaking wet!” she complained, though wasn’t really angry and he knew it.  She’d missed him.  No matter how nice it was to have a few days of solitude, the lack of his presence in the house had made her feel cold and empty.
Antonio smiled and leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss to her cheek.  She immediately giggled and tried to swat him away, but he was a tempest that couldn’t be stopped.  A moment later, he had gathered her into his arms and was kissing her furiously, with a force that Aeta hadn’t expected.  She desperately clung to him, waiting with baited, frozen breath for him to pause.  When he did, it was merely to lower his mouth to her neck.
“You’re getting my clothes all wet,” she whispered haltingly.  Her voice might’ve been another complaint if she had the mind for it, but her love for him was welling up inside all her cracks and sliding through all her barriers.  At once she felt whole, and that was a very beautiful feeling.
“I think I have a way to deal with that,” Antonio murmured playfully, licking the shell of her ear and enjoying the way she shivered into him.  He began to tug at her shirt, desperate to feel skin.  She allowed him, unconcerned about doing this on the porch.  The house was half a mile from the road, buried in a little wooded area, and there were no neighboring houses for at least a mile in all directions.  They were safe from prying eyes, and besides, Aeta had other things to think about.  Like the way Antonio was finally thrusting her shirt away and descending upon her breasts.
She hadn’t bothered putting a bra on that morning since she wasn’t planning on going out.  And since the house was so isolated she didn’t think it would be a big deal, walking around without one.  Had she known that Antonio would be returning today, she might’ve decided to put one on.  Though truth be told, he seemed extremely pleased to find that she was bared so easily for him.  He was grinning mischievously as he touched her, and Aeta blushed.
She glanced around and murmured, “Antonio…shouldn’t we go inside…?”  Yes, the house was isolated.  Yes it was down pouring like Armageddon itself was descending upon the earth.  But that didn’t necessarily mean that no one was walking through the woods and might stumble upon them at any moment.
Antonio seemed less concerned.  His tongue was rather distracted with her breast, but after a moment of his ministrations he pulled away and looked down at her calmly.  “There is no one out here but you and me and the rain, mi amor.” [1]
Aeta wasn’t convinced though.  Spain was such a free spirit, and she loved that about him, but it was harder for her to surrender so easily to such simple emotions.  She frowned and opened her mouth to speak, but Antonio rushed in to kiss her and a moment later she was at his mercy. 
He shoved her gently against the railing, mouth moving with a furious intent over hers.  His tongue raced over every inch of her mouth that he could reach, rubbing over hers tantalizingly, tracing the line of her teeth.  But what really took her breath away was the way his knee pushed itself between her legs, making room for his hips to nestle there.  And the way his erection moved against her pelvis was enough to make her lose all her arguments in one fell swoop.
She sunk against him, but he wasn’t finished with her yet.  A moment later he paused from his furious kiss and looked straight into her eyes, “I want to see you covered in this rain.”  His hips rubbed deliciously over hers.  Shifting her thighs further apart, Antonio lifted them up slightly and crushed his erection against her core.  Aeta clutched him tightly and bit her lip to halt her moan.  But she couldn’t stop her next moan, not when her playful lover bent and began to roughly massage her breasts, pushing them together and kneading them with those skilled, quick fingers.  He rested his forehead against hers and murmured, “Will you let me fuck you like this, amor?”
She melted.  With a desperate moan, her head fell back and Antonio took the opportunity to press kisses over the stretch of her neck.  He chuckled and whispered, “I suppose that means yes?  That you want me to take you out here, in this rain, that you want to feel the water soaking your skin.”
Aeta wasn’t sure what she wanted, only that it had something to do with the hardness between her lover’s legs, and the ache between hers.  It also had something to do with getting some of these annoying clothes off.  She frowned impatiently and whined, “Antonio, it’s been an entire week and I don’t want to wait anymore.” 
His eyes flashed and he smirked.  Of course he did: he always enjoyed seeing this more impatient side of his normally patient lover.  Always liked to watch her fray and unravel for him.  “Oh?” he wondered, peering down at her with that mischievous smirk painted across his face, “And what do you want me to do first, amor?” 
His fingers drifted to the hem of her jeans, but Aeta only glowered at him and said, “I want you to take that damned shirt off!”  She leaned forward to slip her fingers beneath the hem and muttered, “Let me see your skin, Antonio.”  And he shivered, because her voice was creased with a passion that made him crazy, and he could only watch as she roughly removed his damp shirt.
His eyes were dark and impatient as well, after that.  He swallowed thickly and nodded, murmuring a determined, “Mmm…your turn next.”  And he stepped back, immediately slipping his fingers into her jeans and hastily pulling them away, eager to strip their clothes away and bare themselves to each other.  Aeta was just as eager, and she kicked the jeans off quickly before helping him with his. 
Without clothes to protect them from the weather, it was chilly.  They curled around each other without thought, and Antonio chuckled.  He allowed his hands to wander over her revealed skin, pressing against her rear and dragging his fingers up her spine indulgently.  She sighed against him and shifted her hips, reminding him of the fact that he was startlingly hard, and she was just as ready to take him inside her.  She was soaking, and not just from the rain.
With a low moan, Antonio tested this with two enthusiastic fingers.  The moment he traced her clit, Aeta shivered into him and sighed, eyes fluttering closed and breathing his name.  He swallowed at her reaction, then took his cock and traced the tip along her clit next. 
Aeta moaned, a whimpered sort of sound that hinted at her arousing desires, and whispered, “God, Antonio…don’t tease me.  I need you so badly…”  Her hips jerked against his member and he chuckled breathlessly, thrusting his pelvis and enjoying the feel of her heat scorching over his length. 
“Mmm…” he groaned, but ultimately had to agree with her.  He was so hard that it almost hurt.  They could take their time with each other later, once the urgency of their desire had been sated.  But for now all he wanted was to sink inside her and remind himself why he was so in love with her.  So a moment later, he heaved her legs up and pushed her against the wood railing, then slid inside her.  Aeta tightly clenched her legs around his waist and wrapped one arm around his neck.  The other hand slammed into the railing behind her in an attempt to give herself some stability in the wake of Antonio’s thrusts…which did not wait for her.
His passion and desire for her was strong enough that he couldn’t possibly help himself.  He wasn’t often a selfish lover, but today it couldn’t be helped.  He couldn’t stop himself from starting off at a fast, deep pace.  All he could do was brace his body against hers and shift his hips as if his life depended upon it.  And in that moment, it felt as if it did, because the thought of being anywhere else was stifling in its aversion.
Aeta clung to him, not complaining at the harsh pace.  In truth it was exactly what they both needed after their brief absence of each other.  Their intimacy was usually softer, gentler, less caustic.  But today they wanted to be full of the other: so full that they would burst from the brilliance of their coupling.
“Ahh, Antonio…!” she tried to buck her hips forward but it was difficult to do in this position.  Antonio only buried his face against her neck and threw himself further into the passion.  The short, breathless moans that escaped her lips made him more and more delirious.  He prided himself on his self control when it came to this sort of thing, but said control was slipping dangerously low.  He would make it up to her later.  For now all he could do was hope that he lasted longer than he thought he would.
Amor, I don’t think I – nnmng!” his teeth clenched down hard and he stared down at Aeta with wide eyes.  She’d finally found a good position in this haphazard joining.  By leaning back a little, she could rest most of her weight on her elbows and upper body, and free up her legs.  This new found power was not thrown away lightly: she began to move her hips in circular motions, shifting her inner muscles around his length.  It was obviously more arousing that Antonio was prepared for, because after only moments of this new, exquisite torture, his wide eyes narrowed with a desperate pleasure.
He gasped, “If you keep doing that – “
“You’ll what?” Aeta asked, and stopped the movements teasingly.  He growled, panting heavily.  His chest rose and fell quickly and his thrusts turned shallower.  It wasn’t nearly as pleasurable without her movements and he deliriously murmured, “No, no…keep doing it.  Keep going…feels too good…”  Aeta smirked victoriously, and he nearly cried out in relief when she shifted her hips again. 
His orgasm was unfurling very quickly inside him and he pressed his face into her hair, desperately trying to stave it off.  With her hips moving in that coy, wicked way, it was easier said than done.  But Aeta seemed to know what was going on, and she whispered and soft, “Let go, Antonio…I want you to come.”
His eyes locked with hers.  With a grunt of disapproval, he muttered, “No way - !”  But she only leaned in to press her mouth against his, cutting his words off and increasing the motions of her hips.  It was all too much, too much for him to hold back, and with a moan Antonio felt himself burst without warning.  His lips broke away from hers but their foreheads remained pressed together as their hips flew and crashed.  His breathing turned into shallow gasps that hinted at his immense pleasure, and yet at the same time he was not pleased.  Not at all.
“You…didn’t come,” he panted, leaning heavily against her and the railing for fear of toppling over.  His muscles felt weak, melted almost, and her combined weight on him only made him shakier.  He turned to her with sharp eyes and Aeta smiled, tilted her head, and said cheekily, “You’ll fix that soon, won’t you?”  And his eyes darkened.  Oh yes, he most certainly would.
With a grunt, he pushed away from the railing, slipping his arms around Aeta’s waist and bringing her with him.  They hung there together for a brief moment, like two stars hanging in atmospheric debris, and then Antonio began to step slowly toward the opened porch door.  He grinned and said, “I’d like nothing more than to – “ then with a cry of surprise, Antonio slipped on a wet spot on the polished wood and sent them both toppling to the floor in a heap of tangled, sore limbs…though not without first knocking over the easel and canvas painting that Aeta had spent the afternoon working on.  It landed paint-first right on top of them.
Silence cascaded dreadfully around them.  And then Aeta suddenly began to laugh.  She pushed the painting off of them and looked down at Antonio, who lay in all his naked glory with blue and green paint streaking over his abdomen.  He chuckled too and asked slowly, “Are you okay?”  But it was clear she was, and so was the painting, and Aeta shrugged and said, “Nothing a hot shower won’t fix.”
Then, teasingly, she dips her finger against the canvas and proceeds to drag it playfully across his cheek with a smirk.  His mouth opens in mock outrage and he sits up, curls his arms around her waist and rolls her onto her back.  She explodes into laughter and the sound of it drowns out even the rain, which still patters heavily down around them.
“I missed you,” she heard Antonio whisper as he buried his nose into her neck.  And she wrapped her arms around his paint smeared body, comfortable even on the floor of the hard, wet porch, and decided that love was a strange thing.  But it was also something she would not do without, especially if in entailed more of these haphazard and sinfully surreal moments, where the world seemed to stop just for them. 
~~~

Translation:
[1] mi amor … my love

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

A Bruce Banner Lemon -- Halcyon

Character: Bruce Banner

Fandom: The Avengers

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: He’s got all those muscles when he’s the Hulk, so I figured…massage?  hehe


Bruce Banner was a man of average height, average build, and a great many other average things.  He wasn’t particularly muscular and preferred his own inner contemplations to a faster, more socialite life.  In other words he was a bit of a nerd, but that was alright.  (All the best superheroes were.)  When his other personality came out, though, he was nothing like the average man in any way, and got in more trouble than not.  Which was why he was sitting rather morosely on the couch in his quarters at HQ, shifting every other minute and looking highly uncomfortable.  For such a cool, level headed man (on his off days), it was certainly a strange sight.
“What on earth is making you wiggle around like that?” you asked after a while of watching the movement.  Your voice was bored and that didn’t surprise him.  You were always bored when you had no assignments.  He turned to give you a resigned sigh and explained, “My back is killing me.  I think I pulled a muscle last night…”
He was referring no doubt to the mission him and Stark had gone on.  They’d only gotten back in the early hours of dawn and he’d slept practically the entire day, too exhausted to bring himself to so much as shower.  That had been around the time you’d decided to come waltzing in and change all that.  (I.e. start ordering him around.)
You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look over that made him even more uncomfortable, simply because of the way your eyes flashed.  Nerd or not, Bruce wasn’t entirely blind to the workings of the female mind.  Not that he thought of you as a female.  You were more like a ravenous animal who didn’t understand the meaning of the word ‘no’. 
He sighed and watched you carefully, searching your movements for any sign of your usual hunger.  Finding none, Bruce frowned and leaned back, then immediately grimaced when his sore back screamed out in protest.  He’d have to ask Stark just what his alternate ego had done to make him like this.  The man would no doubt love to give him every last detail, and would somehow find ways to poke fun at him around each explanation.
You’d been getting some lunch ready, having been waiting for him to finish his shower.  The little kitchenette that his quarters supplied was good for making sandwiches, if nothing else, and you already had a rather impressive plate of them in front of you.  Bruce tended to eat like a madman after missions, but it seemed as though he wasn’t all that hungry today.  You watched him for several more minutes, noting the way he shifted and muttered to himself, trying to loosen the muscles of his shoulder with one hand and failing – and you decided there was nothing for it.  You’d simply have to put him out of his misery.
With a sigh, you abandoned the sandwiches and approached him, folding your legs beneath you as you sat next to him of the couch.  The smooth black leather was cool beneath you.  Everything about the situation was, from the atmosphere itself to the way Bruce glanced over at you questionably, obviously wondering what you were doing.  The answer revealed itself when you huddled up to his back, brushed his hands away, and began to work at the kinks of his shoulders.  And only a few strokes had him leaning back, sighing in relief, murmuring, “That’s so much better…”
You smiled and continued to press your fingers into his back, ducking over his muscles and trying to push the stress from them with only your touch.  He was absolutely melting against you and it was a rather delicious sight, but then all your efforts went to hell when you pressed against a particularly sore spot below his shoulder blade.
“Christ!” he yelped, then blushed because his voice sounded embarrassingly high pitched.  You immediately stopped with a frown and peered at his face in concern.  Discomfort had captured his features and he was grimacing, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain.  The sight only made you frown harder.
“That’s where you pulled the muscle?” you asked, though you hardly needed a confirmation.  It was quite obvious, and you smoothed over his shoulder blade in what you hoped was a calming motion, trying to draw the pain away.
“Mmhm,” he answered after a moment, and glowered.  “It’s no use…I’ll just put one of those patches on – “  He started to get up, but you dragged him back before he could, and he fell back against your chest with wide eyes.  You glared down at him and he swallowed thickly.  He couldn’t bring himself to be upset with you, especially not when his head just happened to be resting quite comfortably between your breasts. 
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you muttered, and to his surprise your hands drifted down to the front of his dress shirt and you began to unbutton it.  As your fingers flew down the shirt, you told him, “I won’t be one-upped by a bit of fabric.  Besides, you’ll feel much better if you sit still and let me massage you.”  You gave him a particularly perilous look that clearly told him to do as you said or suffer the consequences.  So stubborn.
Head still resting against you, Bruce watched as you opened his shirt, fingers generously touching him.  He’d been with you several times in the past but it seemed he could never get used to your touches.  They were light and breezy, but almost dark with growing, ravenous need.  As if you had to have every single part of him, wouldn’t be satisfied until you had learned everything there was to know about the average man he was.  Yet he did not feel average when you were with him.  Not at all.
You were scintillating, brash, bold, and when his body was connected with yours it was like some of those attributes sunk into his skin and imprinted into him.  And he was scintillating too, and brash and bold, and it was really a very heady feeling, but beautiful too.
Your fingers dragged lightly over his chest, up from his naval to brush over his nipples and shift gently into the light pattering of hair on his upper chest.  He swallowed and sighed, especially when those clever fingers turned once more to his shoulders and neck, and then he began to melt all over again.  It wasn’t fair how good you were at this.  It also wasn’t fair that he was only now realizing this lovely talent of yours.
“Sit up,” you whispered against his hair, squeezing his shoulders lightly.  With a groan he did, shifting his body into a sitting position but still leaning against you.  You breasts pushed up against his back and it felt glorious, especially because he could quite clearly feel the tautness of your nipples through your thin shirt. 
You pressed your knuckles over him, taking care to avoid the strained muscle of his shoulder blade for now.  First you dealt with the other areas of his back, following the trail of his spine and loosening each muscle that sat against it.  You dug gently into his sides and thumbed close to his lower back, enjoying the humming sigh he gave when you did.  And only after he was perfectly tempered and melting against you did you venture to that muscle.
He grimaced immediately when he felt your fingers touch his shoulder blade, but he didn’t complain.  Unlike before, when you had unknowingly pressed hard against the strained muscle, this time you were gentle and very light.  Your fingers hardly caused pain at all as you gently worked the edges of it, and soon enough he was melting thoroughly against you once more, and the intense soreness had blistered away into a dull fire.  It was a good fire, and it felt good to have the muscles worked on.  Once the initial discomfort had passed, that fire had spread along every other muscle, burying beneath his skin and causing a myriad of other problems.  And he was sure you noticed, because your position gave you a clear view of the rest of his body.
Was he surprised that your fingers turned him on?  Not particularly.  He knew he was in for it the very moment you started massaging him.  Did he think he would become as aroused as he was now?  Nope.  But he was hardly surprised by this, either, because you had a certain way of making common things exciting, and he often fell into this very same trap.
“Bruce…” you murmured, leaning down to press a kiss over the warm skin of his shoulder blade.  It rather felt as if a hot fire had built itself up within his veins, making every part of him melt at the heat.  Your lips only made that fire burn brighter, more concentrated against his skin, as if he was standing beside a roaring hearth.  He shuddered just a little, just enough for you to notice, and clenched his hands into fists on his lap.  You noticed that, too.
Your hands slowly slide around his sides, reaching to touch his hands, to grasp them between your fingers.  His eyes fluttered closed as the oddly intimate moment took root within him, and then he felt you shift his hands to the side, fingers running smoothly over his jeans to cup the bulge between his legs.  He could barely feel your touch through the thick fabric, but the sight was enough to make his arousal spike to dangerous levels.  And when you squeezed just so, his head fell back and he let out a soft moan.  And that little sound rather broke your control, and your patience, and instead you turned your fingers hastily to his zipper to feel him better, because you absolutely needed to.
He let you, of course he did.  He wouldn’t dare deny his own desire to continue on this fiery, dangerous path, and he wouldn’t deny you yours either.  Shifting his legs open just a little, he watched through half lidded eyes as your fingers delved into his jeans and wrapped around his thick member.  Your breathing grew heavier as you brought it into the air, but Bruce stopped keeping track once you started stroking him.  That was where he drew the line between his desire to lavish you with attention and his need to just let you pleasure him to your heart’s content.
“Does that feel good?” you wondered almost idly, but he could hear the heady passion that turned your voice to threaded, ripped silk.  He swallowed and decided to allow you your fun, and so he answered with a chuckling, “What do you think?”  You smirked.
“I think it must feel very good,” you murmured, squeezing his tip gently and watching him crumble.  The sight of him was immensely pleasurable for you, especially considering the fact that he’d become this aroused simply by the feel of you massaging him.  If that didn’t boost your confidence, nothing would. 
You kissed his neck, sinking your teeth lightly into him and listening to him sigh at the feeling.  Your tongue immediately ran over the bite, lips sucking the skin and drawing redness into it.  When the mark was sufficiently red, you gave it a pleased lick before moving on, your lips a flutter of movement as you kissed a path below his jaw and over the side of his face.  Bruce turned, caught your eye, and lifted a hand to cup your head.  The next moment he was putting an end to those little kisses and pressing a stronger, headier kiss against your mouth.  You moaned and retaliated with another squeeze to his cock, which made him grasp you harder, nails digging into your scalp.  The push-pull battle was lovely but you needed more substance, more ground in which to act out your passion.  He seemed to be in agreement.
“Lie down,” you told him, your voice bathed in a desire that had him moaning from the sound alone.  You released his member and he shifted his body down along the length of the couch, pressed to black leather and you.  And you followed, but first you straddled his legs and pulled his jeans away, removing the hindrance of clothes and admiring the sight of his very naked form below you.  He was obviously uncomfortable about being so bare when you were wearing so much, and you smirked.
You reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it up off your body, dropping it to the floor.  Bruce watched from below as you did the same for your bra, then began scrambling impatiently for your jeans.  There was only one thing you wanted now, and that was to feel his skin against yours, to sink against him with an intimacy that only a seasoned lover could accomplish.
Bruce chuckled and swatted your hands away, tugging at the hem and pulling them down.  And you let him, moving to hover above his body as he struggled with peeling the layer of fabric away.  When you were bare before him, you finally went to him, shuffling against his body until you were comfortable and listening to his harried, appreciative breaths as you did.  His lips immediately found yours, his fingers tangling into your hair, and he crushed you against him with a power that left you spinning like a lonely star in a universe all alone.
But you weren’t all alone, something he made quite clear as his warm body clutched you possessively.  His fingers raced along your skin, squeezing your rear, dipping against the cleft of it and tracing it down to your center.  Your legs immediately shifted apart without thought.  You were eager for more of him, and the moment you felt his fingers sink into your core, you moaned feverishly and buried your head into his shoulder.
Bruce chuckled, obviously aroused by that moan, and began to gently thrust his fingers into you.  “Does that feel good?” he said teasingly, using your words from before as he watched desire spin over your features.  You panted and clutched at him, shifting your hips just a little as you impatiently tried to get him to go faster.
“Mmm, yes!” you whined.  He wouldn’t go faster.  He was stubborn and apparently enjoyed seeing you suffer.  With a frown, you whimpered, “Please, Bruce.  I want more of you.”  Because you could feel the heat of his hard cock pressing against your abdomen, and it was rather making you crazy.  You wanted that inside you, thrusting into you as his fingers were doing now.
He swallowed thickly.  Your words caused a staggering wave of desire to crush over him, hitting him hard in the chest and stealing what little breath he had left.  This panicked passion was exactly what made him crazy for you.  No one else could make him so helpless, so out of control in the most sensual of ways.  And when he was with you, he didn’t even feel afraid of losing that control.  It just felt natural, like breathing or walking or feeling.  It felt human.
“Bruce?” you whispered when he didn’t do or say anything in response to your plea.  You raised yourself onto your elbows to see him properly, and you felt your eyes soften at the sight he made.  Laying beneath you, looking almost vulnerable, your temperate lover clutched you to him as if you were the only thing separating him from the beast he feared so much.  And yet you knew there was no danger now.  He had never shown any signs of changing form during your sexual encounters.  And why would he?  It wasn’t as if he was ever angry when you were filled with him.  Anger was probably the last thing on his mind.
He said nothing, just looked at you for a long moment that seemed to descend into an eternity.  Then he gave you a little smile and shifted his knees between yours, opening your legs around his and heaving your hips up with two strong hands.  You moaned at the feel of your skin sliding against his, but he cut the sound off when his mouth crashed rather headily against yours, at the same moment his cock was guided into your core with sudden but delicious force.
“Ohmmph!” you cried against his mouth, but kept kissing him because it felt so good, so intimate in a way you’d never felt before.  It felt as if you could suddenly feel parts of him you’d never felt, little shifts of his heart that had before remained silent and shadowed.  But suddenly Bruce was new.  He was different, beautiful, and his passion for you was changed somehow, in a way you couldn’t quite describe.  Only you could feel the change resound through your bones and rattle you down, his thrusts forceful and powerful as they lifted you’re your hips into the air.  And still his lips raced over yours, as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste, of the way your mouths fit together seamlessly, of the whimpered little moans that spun from your throat and were sent muffled against his.
“Bruce,” you moaned, and he inhaled that sound too, as if the very shift of syllables made him crazy with lingering passion.  They did.  And he used that passion to fuel his movements as he crushed his love against you, filled you up until you were brimming with it, and let it overflow against your mind and your heart and every other part of you he could not touch, but felt.
His hips were a surge of energy, dragging his member in and out of you with long deep strokes.  You swore you could feel him reaching places he never had before, bruising you with every tempered, delicious thrust.  And it was amazing, and your body felt like it was a wildfire scourging with such uncontrollable heat that you were blind in the face of it. 
Your orgasm was hurtling through you, building itself from the ashes, spinning up from the depths of your desire and making itself physical and startlingly powerful.  Your lips stopped moving with his.  Kissing him required thinking and that was too hard now.  All you could do was stare down at him and hope to convey the message of your impending end, which you could not stop or hold back when his thrusts were so quick and endless.
Bruce saw the warning in your eyes but didn’t stop.  He wanted you to come, wanted to see your orgasm play out on your face, wanted to watch your body curl and feel the impact of his love for you.  And so he just kept thrusting, hilting himself into you again and again and not stopping or slowing down.  He needed to come as well, he was bursting from the desire to, but he needed to have you come first.  Watching the effects he had on you was a pleasure he wouldn’t pass by.
“Come for me,” he told you, his voice strained from the effort of holding his own orgasm at bay.  You all but melted at the sound of his voice, at the way he stared up at you with that encompassing desire, as if he wanted to possess every single part of you.  You couldn’t possibly hold back now, not when he wanted you to come, and not when you wanted to come so badly.  And so you clutched his shoulders, leaned back, and relinquished yourself to the throws of passion.
With a loud moan you came, and Bruce watched reverently as your body unfurled for him.  Your shoulders were thrown back, your chest forward, hips jerking down to meet his thrusts in a sloppy, needy way.  But it was your face that caught his attention most of all, and it was the way your eyes creased into slivers of passion and love and other beautiful emotions that made his own end come crashing down upon him.
“Mmmph!” he cried, but hardly heard himself.  His world tilted, joining yours.  Your muscles clenched down on his length and his pace increased, taking full advantage of the way your body screamed for him.  He burst moments later, heaving breathlessly and bringing you down into his arms.  Your bodies were slick with sweat and the scent of sex lingered between you.  It felt surreal and lovely, scintillating in a way that could only be felt when one lingered in the haze of a physical union.
Behind you, the late afternoon sun shrouded you in warmth, and you closed your eyes and curled against Bruce, both enjoying the moment of peace in your not so peaceful lives.

~~~

Thursday, March 5, 2015

A Sousuke Yamazaki Lemon -- Solar

Character: Sousuke Yamazaki

Fandom: Iwatobi Swim Club

OC: Kaito Yamauchi, long plum colored hair, maroon eyes, very flirty

Inspiration: Sneaking around in his dormroom ;3


It was ten minutes to two.  Kaito stood in the hallway clutching her phone, heart pounding haplessly.  She wasn’t nervous, though perhaps a little overeager.  Because there was nothing more deliciously nerve wracking than sneaking around with a lover.  And when that lover was Sousuke, well, that made it all the better.
She knocked and the door flew open moments later, revealing the rather tousled head of Sousuke as he poked it into the hallway.  He had obviously been laying down, maybe napping, definitely waiting for her.  One look of those dark eyes of his and Kaito was lost within them, captured like fairy dust strewn over too wide a space.  He tilted his head once in both directions, and when no other students were there to see the exchange, Sousuke snatched up her wrist and dragged her forcefully inside, throwing the door closed and immediately pushing her against it.
His lips came down hard and fast on hers, without warning, without even giving her time to draw breath.  There was something immediate in his touch, something that hinted at their limited time.  And sure enough, when his lips broke and began to wander down to nip playfully at her neck, Sousuke muttered, “You’re late.  What happened to being here at 1:30?”  His teeth gently sunk into her neck as punishment.
“Mmm…I – oh, keep doing that – ran into some friends and – “
Sousuke pulled away, his customary blank look settling onto his face.  He raised an eyebrow and murmured, “Your friends are more important than me?  Is that what you’re saying?”  But even as he spoke there was a glint in his eye, and Kaito huffed at the shiver of amusement that pulled over him.
“Stop twisting everything I say,” she mumbled, making a face at him.  As he chuckled, she took a moment to glance around the dorm room.  It was empty of its other roommate, though for how long neither could say.  Rin had several morning and afternoon classes, but none in the evening.  His nighttime schedule was simply to relax and get work done, enjoying the fact that he didn’t have to worry about going to any other classes in the evening chill.  Kaito liked Rin, of course, but his schedule rather got in the way of her and Sousuke’s meeting times.
“Rin’s at class,” Sousuke said, catching the way she looked around the room.  His usual bland expression made her raise her eyebrows.  She ignored him and walked to the windows, shutting the blinds in case someone happened to see them.  She was about to turn around when suddenly Sousuke’s body was sinking against hers, pressing her to the edge of the window ledge and smoothing his hands generously over her thighs and stomach and breasts.  She closed her eyes and leaned back against him, pushing her chest into his waiting hands and sighing as the warmth of his fingers hastened through the layers of her shirt.  But as soon as his hands came into contact with her breasts, Sousuke’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline and he said in a dry voice, “You aren’t wearing a bra.”  He liked that.  She could tell just from the way his words crushed together like velvet on a hot day.
“Oh really?” she wondered, as if she hadn’t a clue about it.  She felt Sousuke smirk against her neck and shivered.  His long fingers were soon taking the liberty of showing her just how much he enjoyed this surprise, and the way he massaged and touched her was nothing short of delicious.  Rough, too.  He wasn’t exactly gentle as he squeezed her, and when he slipped his hands beneath her shirt and cupped her properly, Kaito let out a whiny, ragged moan. 
“Like that?” he muttered softly against her ear, tongue dancing over the shell of it.  She trembled, back arching, and pushed her breasts into his hands in silent demand.  And Sousuke watched every shiver that spun over her skin, blinking at the luxurious way she glowed with the light of the barely setting sun.  The golden hues of it could barely be seen around the edges of the thick curtain, but what light did manage to get through glimmered like threaded gold upon them.
It was quite obvious that she certainly did like his ministrations, but Sousuke himself grew rather bored of them.  Touching her without actually seeing her was scintillating and lovely, but being able to see every inch of her glorious skin was something too good to pass up.  And so without warning, Sousuke curled his fingers around the hem of her school shirt and jerked it into the air, past her breasts and over her head, and left her shivering and bare and golden and glorious.
The warmth of his chest pressed against her back once more, and immediately his arms curled around her.  Chin on her shoulder, Sousuke looked down at the new revelation of skin, immensely pleased even though his pleasure was not particularly discernible.  But Kaito knew him well enough to know that he quite liked the sight of her, and she chuckled as she grasped his hands and dragged them back to her breasts in open invitation.  He hummed very lowly against her neck and squeezed his fingers around her, but didn’t linger at her chest.  He had other things to think about now.  Other desires that moved his hands lower, made his fingers drift beneath her short skirt and skim over her stockings.
“You wore these on purpose, didn’t you?” he muttered, frowning just a little bit as he smoothed a palm over Kaito’s thigh.  The netted material was tan, and delicious, and she knew he liked the feel of her stockings against his skin.  But today they hadn’t the time for slow exploration, and she knew it.
With a scoff Kaito rolled her eyes, “I wore them because I felt like wearing them.  Not everything’s about you, Sousuke.”  But even as she denied his words, she most definitely could not deny her feelings and the way they rose up within her.  Because now his hands were drifting, skimming over every inch of her that was hidden beneath the skirt.  He squeezed her rear and ducked down to trace the outline of her clit, already swollen and damp through the layers of her panties and stockings.  Then he cupped her core, rolling the tips of his fingers against her with soft pressure, and she crumbled against him with a moan because it felt so good – but not good enough. 
He hummed, his face just as stoic as ever, and yet she could clearly hear the undercurrent of his desire threading through his voice and feel it taking hold of his body.  That she was already so wet and ready was erotic beyond compare, and it made him equally so. 
He pressed his lips together and pulled away, fingers sliding lightly from her skin and leaving her cold.  When she turned to him in confusion, Sousuke merely raised an eyebrow and sauntered to the door.  As he turned the lock to keep out unwanted visitors, Kaito smirked. 
“Rin won’t be happy to be locked out,” she said, and watched Sousuke shrug, clearly unconcerned about their friend’s comfort. 
“He’d be less happy if he walked in and saw us fucking on his bed,” he reasoned blandly.  Kaito glanced at said bed with a crooked smile and sighed. 
“That’s a little cruel, don’t you think?” she asked, and normally she would have said no, because she certainly wouldn’t want her friend messing her bed up like that.  But at that moment she could hardly bring herself to care.  She was too aroused, and they were running out of time.  Sousuke seemed to know what she was thinking because he hardly hesitated as he approached her, hooking a finger into her skirt and dragging her towards him.
“He’ll forgive us eventually,” he shrugged, and leisurely began to undo the button that held the skirt around her hips.  It dropped to the floor and Sousuke immediately began to drag her stockings away, kneeling down before her to help her step out of them.  He moved with such blasé tenderness that Kaito could only watch, watch and wait and wonder at his next move.  She was not expecting him to stand, pull her close, and kiss her.  Not that she had a problem with that.
As they kissed, Sousuke skillfully dealt with his own clothes too, with Kaito’s help.  Their multitasking worked rather well for them, and soon Sousuke was shuffling out of his last article of clothing was as bare as she was.  Their kiss slowed, and Kaito moaned when she felt his hard member press against her abdomen.  The feel of him, bare against her, was enough to make her arousal spike to a level that was impossible to ignore.  She decided not to, then, and reached forward to curl her hand around his cock.  He hardly made any move to show her that her touch affected him, but she saw the way his eyes flashed and saw the desire settle there.
He let her touch him for a few seconds, but was soon brushing her hand away and murmuring, “Come on…”  Except that he didn’t push her to the bed.  Instead he shepherded her to the window, and suddenly lifted her up and placed her atop the wide sill as if he had planned to do so all along.  She raised an eyebrow.
“Decided to spare Rin’s sheets, have you?” she murmured as he nestled between her legs.  She could hardly breathe, hardly even move as his fingers slid over her core and began to spread her for him.  Her nails bit into his shoulders and Sousuke hummed, blinking down at her.
“This is much more interesting,” he explained, though he needn’t have bothered.  She could barely hear him, focusing only on the way his fingers plunged into her core and readied her for more substantial things, and more intricate pleasure.  Those things came, not very long after, and her breathing grew shallower from there as her thoughts spiraled out of her control.
“Mmmm…” she gasped, feeling his member ease into her.  She was very much ready for him and it didn’t take too much effort.  Soon he was hilted within her, and he paused to give her a moment to get used to him.  When he felt her body begin to relax, Sousuke pulled out and started a slow place that hinted at gentle passion and soft, yearning need. 
She angled her hips towards him, wrapped her legs around his waist, and leaned back against the curtain.  And Sousuke stared down at her, admiring her shuddering body and the way his thrusts made her react to him.  The gasps and shivers and the way her head tipped back and breasts pushed into the air…
His hand reached down to grasp one breast.  His other hand clung to her leg, just below her knee, stabilizing them together as he rocked.  His pace hastened and Kaito moaned.  She reached up to put her hand atop his, squeezing his fingers around her breast and trying to shift her hips against his as best she could.  The movement was haphazard but lovely, and made her lower body numb from the pleasure. 
With a sigh, Kaito stared up at him, admiring Sousuke’s expression.  He normally looked bored, but at that moment he looked utterly divine, as if he had gotten some brilliant stroke of inspiration that had made his world light up into layers of color.  Their eyes locked and he leaned down to kiss her, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and scraping his rough kiss over her skin.  She moaned, a muffled, whimpery sound, and he kissed her harder as he tried to inhale those little sounds. 
Her legs wrapped tight around his hips and she breathlessly gasped, “Sousuke…!”  It was the only warning she could muster, but it mattered little.  Sousuke grunted and raced forward, pressing her hips so hard into the edge of the sill that it hurt.  But she couldn’t complain because at that moment her orgasm unfurled within her and cried out his name.  Everything else was easily forgotten in the scintillating tilting sensation of her world being shredded from beneath her.
Sousuke heaved her up higher as she slipped down the edge of the windowsill and muttered, “Keep your legs around me.”  For in her blissful abandon, Kaito had loosened herself from her tight hold of him.  Her grip hardened and she buried her face into his shoulder, waiting for his end to shake her down yet again.  It did, very soon after, and Sousuke came with a muffled curse and a silent cry, his body curling around hers as he pressed his face into her hair.
“Mmmm…” he sighed, thrusting until they both couldn’t bear it any longer, and then proceeded to collapse together into the nearest bed.  Which happened to be Rin’s.
“Somehow we made it here after all,” Kaito laughed, feeling glorious and naked and wonderfully sensual as the remnants of her orgasm thudded through her memories.  Sousuke chuckled and drew her close, shifting their bodies until there was no end and no beginning: just the middle that extended for what felt like forever. 
“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” was all he muttered, and began running his fingers over her back soothingly, enjoying the feel of her unending expanse of skin.
“Mm, deal,” she whispered, then leaned up to kiss him.  Rin would not be pleased, but for now she couldn’t even bring herself to care.


Extended Ending

Rin was not pleased when he walked into his dormroom and saw Kaito sprawled out over his bed.  He was not pleased when he saw Sousuke sitting by her legs, clothes rumpled and haphazard.  He was especially not pleased when Kaito turned to him, snuggled further into his pillow, and drawled, “Hello Rin~”  He scowled.
“…Did you…?  On my bed…?” he asked, eyebrow twitching and eyes flashing dangerously.  He was a very hygienic guy.  The mere thought of his two friends doing that on his mattress and his clean sheets and his pillow – fuck he felt like he was gonna throw up.
But Kaito only smirked and raised an eyebrow, refusing to answer.  It was Sousuke who rolled his eyes and said, “Your bed’s safe.  For now.”  Rin’s scowl deepened.
“For now?!” he hissed, tossing his backpack onto his desk with a clatter.  “You’re both dead if I ever catch you.  Fucking hell, just being in this room makes me sick.”
Sousuke shrugged.  Kaito blinked.  And Rin just snarled and grabbed his swim bag.  “I’m going to the pool.”  And he left as fast as he’d come, muttering all the while stupid unemotional blasé people.  The moment the door shut Sousuke glanced behind him and smirked.
“He’s gone,” he said casually, and Kaito hummed.  “He won’t be back for a few hours at least.”  And, well, the bed was there for the taking.  Perhaps Rin wouldn't kill them this time.

~~~