Thursday, September 25, 2014

A Germany Lemon -- Drift, Darling

Character: Germany

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: So...I didn't realize I found shaving so attractive until I wrote this.  But anyway.  YES, I've finally broken my almost 3 month silence!  Figures it'd be Germany's kinkiness that would do it.  :3


Before Ludwig entered your life, you hadn't imagined the number of everyday routines with the potential to turn into a kinky mess.  Or maybe you had, but you never would have imagined that they would.  But Ludwig's got this way about him that makes you want to surrender to every strange suggestion he makes.  This particular one is placed a bit lower on the bar than some of his more outlandish ideas.
It is the weekend, otherwise you wouldn't have the time for this.  The late morning sun pools against the bathroom tiles idly, almost consuming the entirety of the little room.  It is bright, vibrant, and oddly sultry.  You still haven't figured out why.  There shouldn't be anything attractive about dragging the edge of a knife over Ludwig's jaw.  But Lord help you, there is something about a man shaving that makes you weak in the knees.  Doing the shaving for him is somehow even more intense.
His eyes are closed and his blonde hair is messily strewn across his forehead.  Neither of you are properly dressed yet: the morning had been slow and sacred, full of gentle lovemaking and the easy banter of two familiar souls.  He is still wearing the soft white undershirt and boxer briefs that he'd pulled on before breakfast.  You are still wearing your short little nightgown and robe. 
Your initial reaction to this strange request had been a bewildered, 'Why?'.  It had seemed odd for him to willingly let you do something so normal, so utterly routine for him.  But now you understand the intimacy behind it.  As you sit in his lap and skim the old fashioned razor slowly up the crease of his throat and chin, you think you've finally realized what you hadn't before: this isn't about being kinky or erotic, it's about trust.  (Though there undoubtedly is a certain level of erotica going on.)
You smile quirkily and give a very light chuckle.  The sound makes Ludwig open his eyes to look at you curiously, and you lean in to kiss the high of his cheekbone where the skin is smooth and soft.  In a low voice, he wonders, “What is it?”  His accent is thick, tired, luxurious, and you suppress a shiver.
With an almost careless shrug, you shake your head and answer, “It’s nothing.  Just … I’m surprised that’s all.”  Surprised that you’re liking this as much as you are.  You wouldn’t have supposed that something as mundane as shaving would rile you up as much as it has.  But you’re aching softly, your body hyper aware of Ludwig and the way he is making you feel.  And you’re surprised at your own willingness to tumble headfirst into another one of his little schemes.  You’re glad you said yes to this one, even though at first you’d been rather skeptical.
You’re sure he’s already aware of what, exactly, you’re surprised at.  (You’re quite verbal with your thoughts of some of his kinkier ideas.)  But for the sake of humoring you, Ludwig murmurs, “Surprised about what?”  His eyes twinkle in amusement and they give him away, but you pretend not to notice.  Instead, you silently admire how he seems to have mastered the art of speaking while shaving, because his jaw barely moves at all.  It makes things a bit easier for you, at least.
You push his chin to the side and drag the blade over the left underside of his jaw, by his ear.  As you focus on keeping your movements gentle and precise, you answer his question in a lazy, idle tone.  “That shaving you is making me ridiculously aroused.” 
He does expect your words, but he doesn’t expect his own reaction to them.  Neither do you, it seems.  But when you catch sight of the soft pink blush spreading over his cheeks, you can’t help but giggle.  He chuckles too, probably because he knows he is being silly, knows that by now, there is no reason whatsoever to be embarrassed about such a thing.  Not when it comes to you.
You snicker and look down at his body, at the gentle bulge in his boxers.  That hasn’t gone unnoticed by you, but this is the first time you openly stare at it.  Ludwig watches you watch him, feeling more resigned than shy, though his cheeks still retain that slight pink.  When your eyes clash with his a moment later, you smirk and say, “Looks like I’m not the only one having that reaction.”  And he smiles, lets out a tiny laugh, and hauls your lower body against his.  Your chest is pressed right to his now, and you’re practically sitting right on top of his erection.  The heat of it scorches through you like wildfire and you have to close your eyes briefly while it momentarily consumes you.
“No, you’re not,” he mutters, voice low and gravelly.  You stare at him for a long moment, overcome by the intensity of his eyes.  Your mouth hovers mere inches away, and it takes all your willpower to keep the distance tangible.  There’s still shaving cream patterned over his jaw, and so after a moment more, you break his stare and reach for the sink.  The razor is placed on the counter.
The chair Ludwig and you are sitting in had previously been pushed up against the bathroom wall, but you had dragged it beside the sink after he thoughtfully suggested the current turn of events.  So lucky for you (and him), you don’t have to stand up to reach the water.  All you have to do is stretch your arm out and reach for the washcloth.  Still, it’s a bit of a stretch, and in order to reach the water faucet, your upper body is pushed very close to Ludwig’s face.  He doesn’t seem to mind.  His hands squeeze your thighs as you snatch the washcloth, and the look he sends you when you meet his gaze makes you weak in the knees.  Good thing you’re not standing.
You don’t comment on his expression as you start to wipe the shaving cream from his face.  There’s not much left, but you take your time regardless, making sure you get every last spot.  When you’re finished, you toss the washcloth back into the sink and turn your attention back to him.  With an almost reverent air, you splay both hands over his cheeks and lean into him, smoothing your fingertips over his newly shaved features.
“I’ve done a good job.  You’re perfect,” you whisper, smiling softly.  He does look perfect.  The sunlight dazzles his skin, turns his eyes to diamonds and his hair to gold.  His looks more like an angel than your lover. 
Ludwig slips his large hands into your nightgown and maps out the length of your back, drifting his touch over every jolt of your spinal cord, every flex of muscle.  His idle rediscovery has you leaning closer, until your breaths are intermingled and unified.  The next course of action is thoughtless, brainless, and it makes your toes curl with pleasure.  You finally close the space between your mouths and kiss him.  He immediately lets out a sigh of relief and responds quickly, his mouth strong and firm beneath yours.
Kissing him makes you feel alive in ways you can’t explain.  Heat licks at your skin, churns through your lower body, has you yearning for an intimacy that has no room for clothing.  You lightly trace the contours of his face, enjoying the rare feeling of completely smooth skin beneath your touch.  It is different, which makes it exotic, which makes you feel as though you cannot get enough of him.  You want to feel every part of him, and so a moment later you’re breaking the kiss in favor of pressing your mouth over his cheekbone.  You skim your nose along his jaw.  You drag his earlobe between your teeth, lick the hollow beneath his ear, leave little bites along his jugular vein.
He’s breathing hard when you slip your hands beneath his undershirt and splay them out over his chest.  So are you.  He hadn’t been idle while you’d been kissing him.  Your robe has been spread open and is now drooping down your shoulders.  His hands haven’t just been exploring your back.  They now cup your breasts beneath your nightgown, which rides up around his arms.  In the back of your mind, you wonder why on earth you’d bothered putting clothes on at all.  You must have known that this situation would have such an ending. 
You hurry to get the robe off.  The fabric creates an entangled web around your upper body and you frown at the struggle.  Ludwig somehow finds it amusing, though, and he starts to chuckle at the petulant sight you make.  After a moment he helps you, forcing the robe onto the floor where it will stay.  You’re about to say something about said force (it hadn’t exactly been gentle, not that you’re complaining), when suddenly his hands are clenching around the hem of your nightshirt and he’s pulling it up and off of you.
You’re left in your panties and nothing else.  An unfair move on his part.  You narrow your eyes at him and slip your hands around his wrists, which are easing up your waist and trying to pull you closer.  He blinks at your rather innocently, but you don’t fall for it.  “Ludwig, that’s cheating!” unfortunately, your voice comes out as more of a childish whine than the sultry scold you’d been going for, and he grins. 
Something must have made him more confident and aggressive than usual this morning (no doubt a result of the things you’d said to him last night, damn it), because Ludwig has a response and then some.  Before you know what’s going on, you’re being pushed up against the bathroom wall and Ludwig is lowly murmuring, “You can’t cheat in love, Frau [1].” 
It really isn’t very fair of him, especially when he’s wearing all those clothes.  But you decide not to worry about it because you happen to like it when he acts all rough.  It’s a delightful little personality trait that he rarely shows in his lovemaking unless he’s feeling overly confident or angry.  You’ve learned to appreciate it when it appears, because it’s ridiculously addictive.
“Well you do it all the time,” you tell him, your mouth bumping against his.  His lower body is pressed firmly against yours and you can feel him, hard and hot.  His hands have tumbled down to squeeze at your rear, and your legs are all but plastered around his waist.  Ludwig gives you a jaunty smile and quickly rolls his hips against yours, making you gasp and toss your head back, unwittingly hitting it into the wall.  The pain that accompanies your reaction makes your cringe, and Ludwig’s smile turns to soft amusement. 
“Perhaps we should continue this somewhere else,” he suggests, reaching a hand up to smooth over the back of your scalp.  You lean forward and murmur, “Agreed.”  And then you’re kissing him, and Ludwig is momentarily lost while your tongue slips against his.  His thoughts turn to ash, cluster together then reemerge as he grapples with all his desires.  The most important one has to do with getting to the bedroom, as soon as possible.
It is with a stumbling incoherency that the two of you falter through the threshold of the bathroom.  The kiss is filled with teeth and bites and it goes right to your head, and Ludwig’s too.  As a result, it takes longer than normal to reach the bed, but you find yourself rather enjoying the challenge.  By the time you land on the mattress, you skin is flushed and all your thoughts bent on one delicious thing.
Ludwig doesn’t immediately follow you.  Instead, he stands by the side of the mattress and busies himself with removing first his shirt, then his boxer briefs.  The time for shyness has long passed, it seems, for he strips himself with a sort of confident zealousness that makes you smirk.  
You push yourself up to your knees and crawl to the edge of the bed, where you lover is standing.  It doesn’t take him very long to figure out what has brought you so quickly to his side.  As soon as your hands splay over his chest and begin to drop downwards, Ludwig closes his eyes and swallows, attempting to prepare himself for what he should already be used to.
But he will never get used to the feel of your hand on his cock, or of the immense pleasure that strikes him down when you begin to pump him through your fingers.  It’s a dry sort of touch, without the usual slickness of sex, but he finds himself enjoying your gentle movements nonetheless.  His eyes flutter open and he leans his head down to your level, wasting no time as his mouth swoops over yours.
You push against him, eager for more.  His fingers tangle into your hair and he tips your head back.  His lips are ferocious, molding against yours with an intensity that leaves you gasping.  You can barely keep up with his kisses, but then you’ve got your own tricks, too.  As he softly sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, you give him a jaunty squeeze and Ludwig immediately moans.  The sound slips from him before he can rein it in, and he closes his eyes tightly as you chuckle.
“Behave,” you tell him with an amused smirk.  He gives you a little glower and nudges his face into your hair, inhaling slowly.  He’s trying very hard not to react to that hand of yours.  He desperately wants to move his hips, push them forward and try to make you go faster, but doing so would mean that you would win.  Ludwig wouldn’t want you to get too over-confident.  Perhaps that is why, a moment later, he is suddenly grappling you up into his arms and throwing you back onto the mattress. 
You’re so shocked that you start to laugh before you’ve even hit the pillows.  Ludwig follows you down with a growled chuckle and rolls his weight on top of you, all but pressing you down beneath him.  You reach for him and, in the midst of all your laughter, he kisses you with a heady vengeance that makes you moan. 
“See?” you ask into the kiss, sighing out and tangling your fingers into his blonde hair.  “You really do like to cheat.”  He looks down at you with a raised eyebrow and says lowly, “That’s not cheating.”  You give him an incredulous stare and laugh, curling your legs around his waist as you quip, “And what would you call it then?”  His eyes glitter down at you and he takes a short moment to think before responding with a smooth, “Enjoying myself.”  He leans down to kiss you and, at the same time, drops his free hand down to your hips and attempts to wrangle you out of your panties.  It’s harder than it looks, with only one hand, so you help him.
As your panties come away, you roll on top of him rather triumphantly and say, “Well then I get to enjoy myself too.”  Ludwig looks up at you, shifts his hands behind his head, and smirks.  When he next speaks, the tone of his voice is almost a purr, which slides across his vocal cords and makes him ridiculously sexy.  “By all means, Mein lieber [2],” he murmurs, and you narrow your eyes at him.
He looks rather nice, lying like that.  With his head in his arms, the muscles of his chest flex upwards.  You reach down to lay your hands over his skin, drifting it slowly over each pronounced ridge, down and down until you’ve reached his naval.  By now, Ludwig is looking at you with dark eyes, as if silently telling you to hurry up.  But his impatience doesn’t show on the rest of his face, and the firm way he sets his jaw makes you feel strangely giddy.  You proceed to ignore his hidden impatience and instead focus on yourself.  Moments later you’re shifting your hips right into his and his hard length is sliding against your wet core.
His self control is commendable.  Ludwig’s only major reaction to your little move is a fast, fluttery meltdown of his expression.  It lasts barely a second, but it is enough for you to see, and it makes you utterly ache as you watch him struggle to get a hold of himself.  He grunts, moves his arms from his head, and shoots you a soft glower as he reaches for you.  His large hands all but encompass your thighs.  He drags you into him, feeling luxurious as your naked skin tumbles over his.
“Now look who’s cheating,” he mumbles, kissing you.  You don’t respond, just grin a little and hum.  It suddenly occurs to you that this isn’t what you want.  Him beneath you, that is.  There is something about feeling dominated that makes you melt from excitement.  You’re left with the urge to see him towering above you, slamming you down into the mattress, and so you pull back.  He looks at you, confused.  His confusion is taken away upon your words, which are spoken sort of soft-like, as if you’re unsure how to say them aloud.
“I want you … on top of me,” you end your proclamation with a little smirk.  Ludwig himself looks rather smug about it all.  His eyes glitter softly up at you, and they seem to have caught afire.  His mouth quirks into a tiny smile that lights up his entire face. 
“Oh?” he wonders, but doesn’t question you further.  Instead, he gently shifts your body beneath his and rolls on top of you.  Once he’s settled between your legs, his hips molding to yours, Ludwig asks quietly, “Is this better?”
You look down at him, at the way he holds his weight up with his arms and the way they flex at the action.  You think there’s nothing better than this: the feeling of such comfortable intimacy, the naturalness of it, the way it’s as easy and as simple of breathing.  And so you nod at him, smooth your fingers over his cleanly shaven jaw and hook them around his neck.  You pull his face down to yours and kiss him, meeting his tongue and sighing out as pleasure hits you full on.
The kiss is slow at first, as if the two of you are exchanging greetings.  It slowly gets faster, deeper, until Ludwig is pulling back only to guide his hard member to your core.  As he starts pushing into you, his mouth comes back to yours and you moan, toss your head back, dig your nails into his shoulders.  God, it feels good after waiting for so long.
He seems to agree.  His voice is muffled when he speaks, but the broken lilt of textured German hints at his relieved, pleasured emotions.  You don’t bother keeping up with his words.  Instead, you just let them press against your skin, just like the rest of him as he pushes you down into the mattress with every firm, well placed thrust.
His hair tickles your cheek.  Your tangle one hand into the blonde strands and press the other to his rear, squeezing his flesh as if in doing so, it will make him go faster.  It doesn’t, but he doesn’t seem to mind the touch.  In fact it seems as though he barely even registers it.  His mind is awash with pleasure that cannot be tamed or categorized.  It is as if some sort of indescribable madness has overcome you both.  The madness is familiar and it wraps around the entirety of you.  You feel him in ways you can’t possibly understand.
He manages to find that one spot that makes you utterly delirious, and the tip of his cock brushes over it and makes you gasp out shallowly.  You clutch at him and he looks down at you, breaking away from the animalistic passion for a moment while he listens to you moan.  “Y-yes, right-right there, L-Ludwig!”  The words are almost indistinguishable, the syllables strewn together to a point of incoherency.  He wouldn’t have needed to understand them anyway though: the desperate tone of your voice give him plenty of insight into what you want.
Ludwig groans, shifts into a sitting position, and pulls your hips into his.  He tosses one leg haphazardly over his arm and then pushes forward again, deeply shoving himself back into you with a force to be reckoned with.  You watch him from below, your hair splayed out over the sheets, your breasts jostling from the movement of his thrusts.  It takes a few moments for him to find that spot again, but when he does you think you’re going to melt.  Your entire body screams for release, melting into a kind of delirium that has you moaning out his name and fisting your hands into the blankets.
Gott [3],” Ludwig mutters, staring down at you.  He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything quite as exquisite as you nearing your orgasm.  The delightful way your face scrunches up has got him rocking faster, intent on finding his own finish.  Hints of release lick at his skin, driving him harder and deeper and he knows he’s bruising you but he can’t stop to care –
You cry out, “Ludwig!” in a luxuriously low voice riddled with intense pleasure, and the sound of it makes him groan.  He feels you contracting around his girth, pulsing as your hips shove forward of their own accord.  Your orgasm rips through your rather furiously and you hear yourself mumbling your lover’s name over and over, as if it is your personal mantra. 
Perhaps it is the sounds you make that push Ludwig to go faster.  Perhaps it is everything, piled together that has him hurtling towards his end.  It doesn’t take him very long to follow you, though and mere seconds later he is letting out a particularly drawn out moan and spilling into you.  The warmth of his release is catastrophically divine.  It leaves you feeling full long after he stops thrusting and simply opts to fall down beside you on the mattress, chest heaving.
You turn to him, watch the way he sighs and blinks over at you.  For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other.  The he smiles, and you start to chuckle, and then suddenly Ludwig is dragging you into his arms and heaving out a particularly pleased sigh. 
“That was fun,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and snuggling into his chest.  “D’you have any other kinky ideas you want to try?”  You know his answer before he gives it, but there’s something about hearing him say it out loud that makes you exuberantly happy. 
He laughs, real low, and drags you ever closer.  You bare body is pressed diligently against his.  His hands map out your back, drifting over your spine and down to squeeze playfully at your rear.  Then he murmurs, soft but hard, “I have so many ideas I don’t know what we should try first.”  You shiver, his words and his tone having a dizzying affect on your nerves. 
You can’t help but touch him, drag your fingertips over his arm, shoulder, the back of his neck.  There is something so beautiful about moments like these and you want to make the most of them.  So you gently hum and kiss his chest as you whisper, “We have plenty of time.”  Exhaustion plucks at the edges of your mind.  You feel Ludwig’s chest grumble a bit as he laughs and tightens his arms around you.  Against his body, you feel safer and warmer than you’ve ever felt, and it is of little surprise that you are soon falling into a light sleep. 
By the time the two of you get up for the day, the sun has drifted far from its morning perch and is beginning its descent down toward the horizon.

~~~

Translations
[1] Frau … woman

[2] Mein lieber … my dear / my love

[3] Gott … God


Tuesday, July 8, 2014

A Haruka Nanase Lemon -- You Are Infinite

Character: Haruka Nanase

Fandom: Iwatobi Swim Club

OC: [Name], quick to anger and has a penchant for revenge

Inspiration: Skinny dipping~   


To say that you are angry with your overly reluctant boyfriend wouldn't be completely true.  You are perhaps upset with him.  Maybe a little annoyed at his lack of passion.  Probably a bit disconcerted at the fact that he is seemingly disinterested in, well, fucking.  It doesn't exactly make you angry.  Just confused and unnerved.  And sometimes, very rarely when you can't keep it down, maybe a little bit (extremely) irate.  Which is why you're currently dealing with your pent up emotions in the only way you know how: through manhandling.
It had started out as a peaceful evening, as always.  You'd trailed after Haruka on his way home.  He'd let you roll out the bedding and take a shower and watch TV while he cooked mackerel for dinner.  You ate mackerel.  You watched more TV.  You went to bed.  You got annoyed.  Perfectly normal.
What hadn't been normal was the way you'd grabbed at Haruka, wrestled him out of bed, and decided that you needed to just force fuck him or something.  Because you know by now that he isn't about to go into this happily.  He'll be reluctant and he'll fight back.  Which is why you're currently pulling him into the back of Iwatobi, to where the pool glistens silently beneath stars.
He's confused, upset, maybe a little disconcerted at the way you're acting.  But you don't respond to him when he asks why you've brought him back to school.  You remain silent and just cross your arms, looking over his figure and the mussed up presence of him, still sleepy and reluctant.  He hadn't had the chance to get dressed and is still wearing his boxer briefs and an old undershirt.  He's lucky he had time to slip into his shoes, though they're still untied and his heel has just barely made it inside.  In all, he looks positively messed up, just the way you like him.
You don't bother looking down at how you look.  For the last few weeks, you'd been wearing less and less to bed in hopes that Haru would decide he's (finally) in the mood to ravish you.  It hasn't worked of course, hence the reason you're here.  In the middle of the night, at a pool, wearing a skimpy little nightshirt.
He barely gives you little outfit a second glance.  He's got eyes only for the water, which looks like a reflected sky full of stars and planetary bodies circling.  You decide you'd very much like to push him in (let's see if that gets his damn attention), but then that would ruin all your evil, vengeful, lovely plans and you can't have that.  So instead you just saunter up beside him and follow his gaze, watching the way the water shifts, like it is in fact a living breathing mass that collides with life.  Stars.  Planetary bodies circling.
"Why did you bring me here?" he asks again, after a few moments of silence.  The only sound that can be heard is the soft lap of waves and the rare sound of a car moving past, outside the school grounds.  You like the solitude and you know Haru does too.  With a shrug, you tell him, "I felt like going for a swim."  And you do, just not in a conventional way.
He gives you a sideways glance, seeing through your words immediately, because, "You were swimming at practice today."  You raise your eyebrow and chuckle.  The type of swimming you had done that afternoon required a bathing suit.  But this type of swimming does not. 
You kick off the shoes you'd hastily tugged on.  When you speak next, your voice is alight with mischief and all kinds of secretive plans that make Haru stop and stare, curious and wary.  "Haru…haven't you ever wanted to swim actual freestyle?"  You pull your shirt off in one sudden, fluid moment which leaves him sort of stranded, from your words and your actions.  But not completely stranded, because you're still wearing a soft cloth bra and he's seen you in it before.  But still his eyes betray him, ducking down quickly to glimpse your abdomen, the way those little panties slip over your hips, the length of your legs, the graceful curve of your ankles.
Then your words hit him and he frowns, jerking his gaze back to yours and pretending as though he hadn't just been looking you over.  You let him pretend, for now, though it is only a matter of time before you take the situation over completely.  It's down to seconds now: the moment you'll take control.
He turns his gaze back to the water (a safer place to look, if nothing else), and says, "I do."  Swim freestyle.  But he doesn’t get it.  His voice is tempered with the slightest touch of confusion and you smirk, stride forward.  His back is mostly facing you so he doesn't notice the way you slip out of that cloth bra, shimmy out of those panties.  Then you are behind him, splaying your hand over the back of his undershirt.  And you purr, "You don't.  You've never been completely free in the water.  You've never surrendered completely."
He still doesn't get it.  Your words hold a concept, a truth that he cannot understand.  You decide to show him, then.  So the next moment, you are backing up a few steps then bursting forward, pushing off the side of the pool, body arching into a perfect dive.  Then you're under, and the water creates a new world that makes everything else slide away unimportant, except for the man that stares wide eyed from the opposite end.  But you ignore him, for now.  For now.
You break the surface with a soft gasp, your back to Haru.  Your hair is plastered to your scalp and your nude body shimmers in the light of the moon, and it's lovely.  Haru stares with his mouth slightly hanging, still shocked.  But even in his surprise he can be appreciative, and his eyes drop over the imprint of your figure as it floats beneath the water.  Your legs seem to crash on into infinity.  Perhaps the water is hiding your flaws, but your rear seems absolutely perfect, and he'd very much like to touch your back and kiss over your shoulder blades and lick your neck and -- "Haru…?  Aren't you coming in?"
Somewhere in his meanderings you've turned around, and now you're blinking at him.  Your eyes are wide and curious but ever so wicked, even now.  Especially now.  But that's not exactly what catches his attention.  He thinks he's never seen a pair of breasts that look so temptingly lovely in that moment.  (He hasn't really seen a real pair up close, until now.)  But he suddenly finds it difficult to breathe, and his eyes are glued to your body and he suddenly wants to join her, touch you, kiss you.  His face is reddening because he doesn't quite know how, though, and he's feeling very much overwhelmed.
Somehow, in some way, you had always known that water would do the trick.  Water breaks him.  It rebuilds him.  It makes him feel alive.  So it is only natural that water would make him aware of all your passion and desire.  He is comfortable in the water and you had figured that he'd be comfortable tonight, too.  You hadn't been completely correct in that assumption, it seems. 
He clears his throat and looks away from you, as if he's got no idea what to say or do or think.  For a moment, you are both suspended (him in time, you in water), but then you are shifting forward, cutting through the water, swimming back to him.  And Haru's eyes just naturally drift back to watch you.  He shivers violently because the sight of you in his element is so raw the he swears he can feel the effects in the spaces, crevices of himself that he hadn't known existed.  He does feel the effects of your bareness, very physically in fact.  There is a hardness growing between his legs and there's nothing for it, he can't stop it, can't stop becoming aroused.  But he doesn't necessarily enjoy it.
You appear at the side of the pool, directly in front of him.  For a moment you just stare up at him, but then you sigh (you're perhaps a little annoyed, disconcerted that he isn't acting like you'd expected).  Before he knows what's happening, you are heaving yourself up out of the water, and said water is cascading down your body and around your breasts and suddenly his arousal is spiking to levels unknown and -- "Haru.  What are you doing?"  God, he hasn't a clue. 
You step up to him, all bare and glorious.  Your skin seems to tilt off in every corner of his vision because he can't stop looking at you.  At the way you're waist is small enough to grasp and the way you thighs are beaded with moisture and the way your nipples are taut and hard.  He swallows thickly and clenches his fist, and you suddenly can't stop the chuckle that leaves your mouth.  He stares at you in surprise and maybe a little annoyance, because you're not supposed to laugh in a situation like this.  But you are.
"It feels wonderful," you tell him, smiling now.  You step closer, so that you are mere inches away, and slip your hands beneath his shirt.  Your fingers linger lightly against his abdomen, waiting to see if he'll let you take the shirt off.  When he doesn't complain, you slip the fabric up and over his head.  Then you lean in, brush your hands against his chest, reach up to cup his face.  He stares down at you carefully, but you can clearly see the desire that he tries so hard to hide away.  You smile again and murmur, "Being in that water, completely bare…it's so easy.  Come on and join me, Haru." 
He shivers because the way your say his name is so lovely and sinful, and he's never heard it spoken like that before.  But he'd like to hear it again, from you, and he leans forward closer, inclining his mouth towards yours.  You let him kiss you, let yourself become immersed in the gentle way his lips tremble against yours.  It's raw and simple, that kiss, just like the moment itself.  But it isn't enough, and so a moment later you're catching his hands and dragging them to your waist.  And the abrupt feel of your skin beneath his seems to open the floodgate of his courage, because suddenly he's grasping you tightly, pulling you against him, deepening the kiss, running his fingers over the length of your back.  And you can feel the hard desire that bulges from his boxers.  You'd very much like to see it, too.  But this process involves baby steps, and you're patient when you need to be.
Though not patient enough, it seems.  When you reach your hand and push it over his boxers, very gently tracing the hem of them, Haru bursts back like he's been struck, chest heaving.  His face is red because he's never done this before, and though he's thought of it for quite a while, thinking and doing are two very different things.  But you're calm even in the face of his hesitance, sort of. 
You aren't entirely angry at him.  Maybe just a little annoyed that he's stalling so much.  He's a guy, after all.  Guys are supposed to jump head first into these types of situations.  But Haru reluctantly hangs back, unsure, always removed, and you'd be lying if you said it doesn't bother you.
You pause, then sigh.  In a calmer voice, you ask him, "Come into the water with me."  And it might be him, might be all the little thoughts revolving through his head, but it almost seems as if you're actually pleading, 'don't reject me this time, not when I've put myself this far out'.  And he doesn't want to reject you.  He doesn't want to turn away from you, not when you're like this.  And that's why he swallows, nods shortly, and mutters, "Fine."  He watches the relief blind your eyes for a brief moment before flickering out of sight.
The water is cool and soft as he pushed himself into it, still clad in his boxers, and he's shivering for two reasons.  One is simply the atmosphere around him, the knowledge that you are utterly naked, the fact that he is letting it all happen.  The other has everything to do with his own arousal, which strains furiously against his last remaining bit of clothing.  It feels so strange, sliding into the water with that hardness, that desire spiking over him.  All his thoughts are bent on it and he can't possibly think about anything else.  Especially when he feels your hands craning over his shoulders, pressing down lightly, comfortingly before darting away again.
"Relax," you whisper to him, trying to sound sympathetic.  But in actuality you are burning with eagerness.  He is finally within your grasp.  You have waited months for him to become this comfortable around you, and you are ecstatic that things are finally working out.  You can barely contain your excitement as you slide down next to him, once again immersing yourself in the cool water.
For a few minutes, Haru just stands there.  He eventually turns his eyes to you and allows himself to look over your figure.  He doesn't touch you, though, and so you just take his hand and pull him deeper into the pool, and the spell of his reluctance breaks a little more.
He cannot ignore the water, even when he's got other things on his mind, and so it doesn't take much prompting to get him interested enough to swim.  He lets his body fall into the water like it's his oxygen, and in a way it is.  It helps clear his mind from the fog of desire, helps him to understand the situation better, helps him to accept it.  And when he cuts back towards you, where you wait in the shallow end, he's got a harder sheen to his eyes.  As if he's made up some sort of very difficult decision.
It's not hard to guess what said decision had been.  Not when he's stepping right in front of you, taking your face in his hands, and leaning in to kiss you.  Not when he's pushing his body against yours and letting you feel the full extent of his desire.  Certainly not when he's letting his hands slide down your back, cup around your rear, and pull you closer.  It is such a sudden, delightful move that you are left speechless.  Blinded and dumbed down and drowning against his mouth and hands and body.  And you are circling, and you are infinite, and it feels as if there is a part of you that is screeching and wrestling its way out of you, searching for freedom.
You gasp and clutch at him, overcome by his sudden passion, by the way his kisses make you into a lightheaded fool.  How had he learned to kiss like this?  Did he always possess this ability and you just hadn't noticed?  All at once you're laughing against his mouth, disbelieving, and Haru is pulling back with a frown because he thinks you're laughing at him.  You hurry to say, "Why didn't you kiss me like that before?"  Because it's clear that he's been hiding this lovely little talent of his and you will be enacting your revenge for that.  You add it to your mental list, filled with all the other plans of revenge you have thought up.
He blinks, then blushes.  You have perhaps never seen his blush like this before, not this close, and you stare as his cheeks turn a pinkish color that makes him lovely.  He chuckles a little, bashful, and murmurs, "…Was it good?"  You raise your eyebrows, lean in, kiss his jaw, the underside of his chin.  You whisper with a soft groan, "Definitely."  He blushes just a little bit more and holds you tighter, silently enjoying the feel of your breasts pushed up against him.
"I've never…" he pauses, not wanting to finish his sentence.  What person wants to admit that they have no experience?  But you know that anyhow, and you just pull back a little and tell him, "That's okay.  We'll take it slow."  Baby steps.
He looks relieved to hear you say that, and he nods.  But when you reach down to trace the hem of his boxers, he stiffens back up and reluctantly clears his throat.  You won't let him pull away again though, not when you're so close.  So you press your body against his and keep your eyes trained to his face as your fingers get to work.  His boxers are easy to pool off in the pool.  They slide away without much of a problem, but the aftereffects leave you both drowning even further into the passion that has been built around you.  It doesn't help when you slowly start to curl your fingers around his shaft. 
He immediately gasps and clenches you tightly, pushing you back against the wall.  But he doesn't stop you.  Instead he follows you, pushing his hips against your palm and letting you touch him.  It feels rather like he's been put on fire, and even in the middle of the pool it is a scorching hot one that burns right down to his bones.
This time, you let yourself look down at him.  He doesn't seem to notice, because he's too busy trying to reign in the intense pleasure.  If he'd known that sex would include this, he might've been more interested in the past.  But right now he can't be bothered to think about all those wasted months.  Right now, all he can think about is the way your fingers are deftly pumping his rigid flesh, up and down.  His heart feels like it might burst.
He buries his head into your shoulder and breathes out.  There is the edge of a moan in his voice and it sounds so erotic that you can hardly believe this is Haru and not someone else.  But it is, of course, otherwise you wouldn't be this excited, and God help you but tonight you are going to be very, very selfish.  Though perhaps not as selfish as you usually are.
Slowly, you stop touching him.  You've suddenly got other things on your mind that you'd like to try out, so you pull your hands away and instead run them over his body.  You are aching all over with desire, but you push that aside because you want to deal with him, first.  You want to take your time with him because you've wanted this for so long.  Letting it happen too quickly would be sinful.  You splay your hands over his chest, thinking.  After a moment of this, you nod and tell him, "Go sit on the edge of the pool."  And he stares, because he's not stupid and he knows that that position would give you direct access to his --
"Go, Haru," you tell him with a soft chuckle.  You start shooing him to the side, as if you both aren't naked and about to partake in very delicious things.  It does make him feel a bit more comfortable, and he allows you to shepherd him.  But his comfort is utterly broken when he does sit down, and with you right between his legs he can't possibly hope to get it back.  It's just as well, really.
You look utterly wicked with that smirk stretched over your lips, and it makes Haru feel tense.  But that tenseness loses its grip on him when you gently wrap your fingers around his length once more.  You gently pump him and he sort of shatters, his body collapsing into tiny little shivers that run endlessly over him, just out of sight.  He thinks his face is turning red but can't really give a damn, and neither can you because that's when you start replacing your hand for your mouth.  And if he felt good before, it does not compare to how it feels now.
He trembles, his eyes wide as he watches your lips spread and take him against your tongue.  His cock is hard, and the sight of you doing this to him makes it harder.  He bites his bottom lip and swallows back a moan that would no doubt embarrass him very much if he were to let it out.  He's not sure, at first, what to do with himself or his hands, which hang uselessly by his legs.  But after a moment he can't think about stuff like that, and everything starts blurring because of the pleasure, and his hands just do whatever they want to.  They are soon tangled into your hair.
You cannot deny that you've wanted to do this to him for a while.  But it feels even better now, now that it is finally happening.  The realness of the situation makes you flounder, raise your eyes to look at him.  His eyes are wide open and he's staring right back, and the sight of your upturned eyes and your mouth stuffed around him has got him tossing his chin up and panting.  His hair rushes into his eyes.  His hips jerk forward of their own accord, trying to push his cock further into you.  You handle it well though, and press your hands to his thighs to stop him.  But you take him deeper as well, relaxing your throat and trying to get used to the sensation of having something lodged there.  Your gag reflex almost kicks in a few times, but after a few minutes you get used to the feeling and gain more confidence.
Haru is busy watching you and trying to remember how to breathe.  He's also busy wondering if it's normal to want to come so early.  He has never done this before and has zero experience other than listening to the rather disturbing stories of his classmates.  So as you suck, turn your tongue, pump him in and out, he hangs there in between the shades of his passion with no idea what to do.
But the funny thing about love (or sex, or romancing) is that no one knows what to do.  They only do whatever they can to keep the atmosphere where they want it to be.  They struggle and deceive and explore until there is no area of their lover's body that they do not know.  And that is when they know what to do with their hands and their hearts, until the next lover comes along and they have to start from scratch once more.
Haru lets out a soft, "[N-Name]-!"  That makes him blush, but it can't be helped.  You are sucking at his tip now and he can feel his orgasm coming up fast, headily racing over his body.  You can tell that he is nearly there, so you drop your fingers down over his length, to the very base and give a little squeeze.  Your thumb sinks lower to rub over him, dashing gently against his skin.  The effect it has on him is nothing less than hazardous.
All at once Haru's gasping, bucking his hips forward in little thrusts, clenching his fist into your hair and throwing his head back.  His neck cranes softly in the moonlight, which illuminates his skin in a sacred sort of paleness that makes you stare openly.  You think, for a moment, that Haru is beautiful.  It is not the first time you've thought this over the last few years you've known him, but it is the first time you've seen him like this, in such rapture.  And you cannot look away from him, even as you hurry to drag out his finish, even as you swallow everything he's got to offer.
Even when his hips stop moving, Haru remains suspended, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his lost breath.  You watch him almost idly, letting his softened member slide away from your lips.  For a moment you just stare up at him, and he stares down at you, and you share a strangely intimate moment that seems to supersede the one you just had.  Then you lift yourself up onto your elbows and let yourself drop down into his lap, resting your head on top of his thigh.  He sighs and drapes his arms over your body, smoothing his touch against your back and into your wet hair.  And the moon watches, and the planetary bodies circle, and you slowly decide that tonight is not the beginning or the end.  It is simply a new start to an ongoing story.  A story that makes you feel very, very, very alive.


~~~

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

A Yuki Sohma Lemon -- Stumble (in the dark)

Character: Yuki Sohma

Fandom: Fruits Basket

OC: Kai, perverted and blunt but outwardly innocent

Inspiration: Thunderstorms :3  Also, I doubt I have to mention it, but the curse has already been broken!


It is 4 o'clock in the morning, and Kai is constantly reminded because the clock noisily ticks and tocks away.  She watches the minute hand slowly loop around the numbers.  5…10…15…  She holds her tea tight in her hands and jumps a little every time the restless night clashes, glimmers with thunder.  She can't sleep.  It's not because she's afraid.  It's simply too loud, too violent and unsettled.  And so she just sits there in the kitchen, in the gray darkness of very, very early dawn, and watches the clock.  25…30…35…  And then… "Kai?" 
She jumps again, this time not from the thunder but from the presence behind her, which she had certainly not anticipated.  Yuki is standing in the doorway of the kitchen looking sleepy but restive, as if he'd been tossing and turning in that great big bed they often slept in.  He steps closer and she turns, swiveling her chair to face him and smiling very softly.  A slap, crash, fizzle of thunder illuminates them like two souls endlessly searching.  Neither quite understand just what they are searching for, but Yuki thinks he might have found it when he circles his arms around her shoulders and drags her against his chest.
She turns fully to him, sliding her arms around him, too.  In that high stool, her head fits snugly against his shoulder and neck, and she sighs out as she leans into him.  He strokes his fingers through her hair and murmurs slowly, "Have you been here long?" 
She hums, a long drawn out sound filled with that yearning for sleep.  When she answers him, her voice is unused and cracking with splinters of exhaustion.  "A while," she mutters, and looks up at those eyes of his, which look gray in all this darkness.  "The thunder woke me up."  And he smiles briefly because it woke him up, too, but what ultimately kept him up had been the fact that she'd been gone.  And breathes out, "Me, too," and leans down to press a soft kiss to her forehead.
Perhaps it is that kiss that sparks an odd urgency within Kai.  Perhaps it is the kiss, but other things too.  Like the dreary, lazy, languorous atmosphere that the storm brings about; or the softness of the night and the way it turns their reservations to smoke; or simple the way they fit against one another, with that flawlessness that makes it seem as though they'd been made solely for each other.   Perhaps it is all these things and more.  Regardless, Kai lifts her head and returns his affections with a well placed kiss on his neck, tucked just beneath his jaw.  And Yuki starts to feel that odd urgency too, in the way her tongue cleverly lilts over his skin. 
He thinks he likes it.  He thinks he likes it but he is eternally hesitant when it comes to the matters of flesh, and so he stiffens just a little bit.  Kai knows not to take his reaction for rejection.  She might've, once upon a time, but that had been before she had really known him as well as she does now.  And so tonight, she takes it all into stride and chuckles lazily against his neck,  dragging her hand up his chest and caressing his cheek.  She pushes her head back and meets his eyes boldly. 
He thinks he sees a great many things in that gaze of hers.  Desire, certainly, which surprises him.  How can she want him so very badly, from just a simple, comfortable kiss?  Mischief, too, which makes that desire implode into little smatters of other emotions, like amusement and affection and arousal.  And speaking of arousal, Yuki thinks he feels one of his own climbing down the back of his spine, infiltrating through his skin and bone and marrow, stiffening his body in other ways. 
"Yuki…" she drawls, her eyes gleaming, cutting through the darkness like bursting diamonds.  The thunder fractures, taints, smashes through the room and Yuki shivers, because her expressions gets briefly lit up and he can see a whole lot of other emotions.  And it's like looking into a very small window of his future.  And he thinks he likes that, too.
Her hands reach up over his chest, then higher to the first button of his pajamas.  His fingers tighten around her waist as he watches her undo his shirt, slowly but without reservation.  He can see that glint in her eyes and he knows it to have very delicious consequences.  And while it frightens him it also makes him yearn and want.  Her, her kisses, her touches, her expertise and the way she makes him feel anxious and desperate and fulfilled all at once.
"You're not tired anymore…?" he finds himself wondering.  His voice is tight and unsure, but only because these situations scare him a little.  Inside, he is also feeling aroused and excited, but it's a bit harder for him to express that side of himself. 
Kai gives him a crooked smile that calms him down, because it's filled with comfort and admiration and maybe even love.  She's halfway down his chest now and she leans forward to press her mouth against the revealed skin.  But before she gets there, she whispers, "I'm not tired at all.  Are you?"  And her mouth descends upon his flesh just as her fingers finish unbuttoning the shirt.  She shoves the fabric out of her way and moves to kiss his nipple, licking over it and touching the other side of him as she does.  Her touches are lazy, too, like she can't be bothered to hasten the pace.  But he likes this laziness.  He likes it very much.
"Mmm…n-no…" he breathes, feeling his arousal heighten.  How can anyone make him so hard, so fast?  But she does.  With just a few of her addictive kisses, she turns him into clay and it's delicious, the way she handles him.  The way she knows instinctively just what he needs.  He moves his fingers to grip her hair and she moves her fingers to grip his arousal, which strains softly against the fabric of his pajama pants.  Yuki immediately reacts, a surprised moan spilling from his lips when she squeezes, rolls her palm over the bulge, squeezes again.  She's not entirely gently but she's not entirely rough, either, and her touch is a delightful mix of the two. 
"K-Kai," he whispers, unsure if his outcry is a warning or a plead for more.  Of course he wants her.  But this is happening so fast and his senses are miles behind him, lost in the stupor of the strange night as it crashes them away.
Kai looks up at him and lets her fingers trace over the hem of his pants idly, like she's debating on whether she should take them off fast or slow.  Yuki swallows thickly and chuckles, breathless.  She hooks her legs around his and murmurs, "Let's have sex, Yuki."  And her words make his face burst with red, embarrassment rising up within him like a tide.  But she only blinks, as if her words are totally normal.  Her eyes glint with that mischief-amusement-desire, and he knows that she will get her way.  She always does.
He raises his hand to run it through his hair, brushing it back as he searches for something to say in return.  Nothing comes to mind and he falters, looking lost.  Kai decides to help him out and smirks, reaching out to push his shirt away from his shoulders.  He lets it drop to the floor, altogether powerless in the face of her passion, and shivers when she whispers, "Come on."  She shifts out of the seat, takes his hand, and pulls him into the living room.
The lightening illuminates their way here and there, but mostly they are stumbling in the dark.  It's okay, he thinks, especially when they find the couch without incident.  Everything's okay until Kai pushes him rather roughly onto said couch, and he falls against the cushions without warning. 
"Kai!" he exclaims, blushing, but she only chuckles darkly and slips into his lap.  The next moment, all his complaints die on his tongue because she's circling her hips over his growing erection, and Yuki thinks he might die from the pleasure. 
"Kai…" he moans, surrendering.  He grasps her waist and lets his head fall back.  She immediately leans forward to kiss his jaw, her hands slipping over his chest.  He watches her luxuriously for a moment, and she smiles and kisses him, sealing her mouth with his.  He kisses back slowly, his need for her growing and spiking with every tilt of her hips.  And he knows that there is no walking away from this now.  There never really was, but he overlooks that because he can't be bothered with 'what-ifs' or 'maybes'.  All he can think of is what he feels now.
She takes the kiss deeper, angles her mouth and runs her tongue over his.  Yuki feels invisible and insubstantial against her expertise, and yet so so grand.  He thinks her kisses will be the death of him, but she continues to prove him wrong at every turn.  When her hands drop over his body and curls around the hem of his pants, he's got a feeling that everything's about to get a little blurrier.
It really does.  Because after a moment spent wrestling off those pants, Kai immediately reaches for his member, which shifts up into the air as a hardened mass.  Yuki's not expecting the abrupt touch, but he finds himself moaning softly and tumbling back, overcome by the soft way she touches him.  Her fingers are astoundingly gentle even while the rest of her movements are not.  She doesn't pump him, not really, but rather pushes her fingers from his base to his tip and down again.  It's a bit of teasing but Yuki doesn't mind, not yet.  Because then her mouth is descending on his once more and he's kissing her back as fervently as he can.  And the combined feeling of her touch has got him shrinking further into the couch, feeling more aroused than he would've thought possible.
"Mmmm…Yuki," she whispers, her words drawling over his mouth.  Their kiss becomes ash that is gusted away, flaking out of existence.  Yuki opens his eyes to look at her, just as the lightening flashes, crumbles, fluctuates.  She presses her forehead against his and their passion dwindles into a burning furnace fueled by other emotions, not just stark desire or material gain.  And he thinks he could spend forever and a day mapping out those eyes of hers, finding her emotions and exploring the ways they change her eyes.  The colors of them, the shifts of light and darkness, the marrying of the two.  But there's no time for that, not now, and so when Kai murmurs a low, husky, erotic, "Take my clothes off," he decides he'll have to postpone that exploration for another time.  They clearly have more important things to do.
He shivers.  Her words alone have a kind of power over him.  It makes him want to please her, makes him want to do as she says.  He doesn't particularly like to think of himself as submissive, but when it comes to this he doesn't care either way.  All he cares about is being with her, being bare with her, being honest and truthful and in love with her. 
He slips his hands into her nightshirt, thanks the heavens that it's the only article of clothing she's wearing, and lifts it slowly up.  She doesn't try to hurry him.  Kai likes his slow passion, likes the way it makes her crazy with eager anticipation.  She shudders and whispers his name, dropping kisses over his jaw and ear and neck.  His fingers feel up her spine, press touches into every vertebrae that he uncovers, takes her desperation and makes it crash and burn and shatter on the floor.  By the time he pulls the clothing completely off, Kai thinks she might go insane from his tenderness. 
And yet Yuki's got this lovely way of proving her wrong at every turn, too, and when he leans down to kiss her slowly, gently, she's utterly blown away.  She kisses him back, moaning, loving the way his hands drop over her skin and breasts and hips.  There is a genteelness in his every movement, in every finger that strokes heat into her flesh, and Kai craves it just as much as she wishes he would go faster, faster.  Until her desperation is a compacted mass that makes her head spin delightfully, always circling.
He likes the sight of her like this, bathed in this gray light, her bare skin illuminated just a little, just enough to make it all mysterious and soft.  He palms up her body, tracing the hem of her panties then pattering upward to touch the plane of her abdomen, the curve of her breast, the tops of her shoulders.  Then he reaches back down to cup her breasts again, because he really can't help it, and the light squeeze of his touch makes Kai breath out and press herself more fully against him. 
He likes this, too.  The way her breasts are neither small or large, but fit into his hands perfectly.  He likes the he can engulf them if he wants.  It makes him feel like he's got a little bit of her bold power, like he can be colorful and powerful too, if he wants to be.  But he also likes the idea of making her as bare as him, and that's what ultimately prompts him to continue his quest back down.  He hooks his fingers into her panties and slips his hands inside them, curving them around her butt.  The fabric follows his wrists, clings to his skin as he eases it away.  Kai helps, shifts her hips, chuckles when the little piece of clothing gets momentarily stuck around her knee.  But when it has dropped away, there isn't really anything about the situation that makes her want to laugh.  Because he is bare and she is bare and they are both very aroused, and only one emotion is born from such a delightful state.
They stare at each other for a short moment then suddenly the stillness shatters.  Kai leans in and Yuki follows suit, and their mouths are suddenly moving very quickly indeed.  Her hips are bucking against his and Yuki is murmuring her name, and his length is hard and pokes against her inner thigh with a vengeance.  And really, it's no surprise that they both desire one thing and one thing only, and so Kai is quick to grasp his member and guide it to her core.  She's even quicker to sink herself onto it.
Their union is sudden but yearned for, and Yuki lets out a harsh breath as he feels the heat and tightness of her.  He is filling her up in the most delicious way and she moans, clutches his shoulders, rocks her hips forward.  The movements takes his cock and pulls it deeper inside her.  It's hard to moan now, and all Yuki can do is watch her move and try not to faint from the intense bliss.
"Mmm…" Kai moans.  The sound sinks into his skin and shakes him down, making his grasp her harder, pulling her tight against his chest.  Holding her is so wonderful and he is so glad that he can do this, be this close to her.  His curse has shattered and he is thankful for it, thankful because it would be so hard to do what he's doing now if he still had it. 
It feels so good being inside her.  Yuki pushes his head back against the edge of the couch and sighs.  His voice is the cusp of a moan and it makes Kai shiver, clutch at him, drive her hips faster.  She takes him as deeply as she can and then drags him back out, almost to his tip, before she starts again.  Her thrusts make him feel numb with pleasure, and he thinks he might come soon.  So he threads his fingers into her hair, presses a kiss to her temple, and whispers hoarsely, "Kai…I'm almost…almost there…" 
She nods at his words, swallowing back a thick wave of desire that threatens to overpower her.  Her orgasm licks at her lower body, boils over, cracking through her flesh like a tendril of that lightening that still flashes outside.  Her end is like that lightening, too, and it rises up within her so quickly that she barely has time to warn Yuki.  But that's okay, he doesn't need her warning.  He can feel her muscles clench and tighten over his shaft and he just knows that she's about to come.  And the thought of her coming on him, because of him, has him racing toward his own release.
"Yuki!" she gasps, arching her back.  She raises her upper body off of him, tilting into the air, and Yuki blurrily watches the lovely way she shudders and trembles and shifts.  He bucks his hips harder, trying to catch up with her.  In response, she does the same, until their lower bodies crash and crumble against one another, until they have no idea as to where one of them ends and the other begins.  The lightening splinters, pauses, rebounds.  They do, too.
He spills himself into her with a long moan and a breathy, whispered, "Kaiii…"  It sounds so erotic to hear her name like that, and Kai keeps up her thrusting and drags his orgasm out, breathing hard against his neck.  And by the time she has stopped moving, Yuki has just begun to catch that lost breath.  They remain very still, laid out against one another, and the thunder gently booms.
It continues to storm even as Kai lifts herself off of him, even as they settle together on the couch, bodies splayed out against cushions and skin.  When the morning finally serenades them awake, the storm has passed but their love hasn't, and neither has their desire.  And it threatens to swallow them whole, just like a thunderstorm that wrinkles, clatters, surges against the beating of their hearts.

~~~