Regarding 400 follower requests! I'll need some time to get the Dragon Age requests done, then I'll post an update for the next request session. I'm thinking I'll need a couple weeks before then, just to keep you all updated. Also I need time to make it as epic as possible ;)

Friday, March 15, 2013

An Adult!Skull Lemon -- Hazardous


Character: Adult!Skull

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: One sequel, as promised~  If you want to read the prequel to this, it's titled 'Precarious' and can be found on my Miscellaneous page under Katekyo Hitman Reborn!


You very much enjoy bringing pleasure to people, because it makes them talk far better than pain, and information is the greatest blackmail in the world.  But you don’t intend on blackmailing Skull.  You are bringing pleasure to him only because you want to.  Because somewhere not so deep within you, you are tired of pleasing others, tired when Skull is not always with you.
Inside your room, it is dark.  There is only one lamp that illuminates the shadows, and it isn't entirely effective.  But it's enough.  It's enough to make Skull's mouth water as he stares at your form, completely bared to him.  It's enough to enjoy the shadows as they weave and caress over your skin.
He wants to reach out to you but doesn't know how.  There is something strangely tentative to the air tonight, something that could spill over at any moment and take him at surprised.  It is a delicious sort of secret, tangible but not completely visible, and Skull almost thinks he knows what it is.  Why else would you tell him that you were going to break apart the pain and the pleasure of your company tonight?
You turn to him in the dim, dim light.  Your eyes are wide with desire and that other something that Skull can almost name, almost respond to.  A second passes and he is suddenly overcome by the aching need to run his fingers through you hair, which is still pinned up into a corporate style.  He wants to do a great many things, in fact, and loosening your hair is only the first line of a very long, ancient song.
You read desire like it's a second language to you.  You can see it spin through Skull's body, see it build up in his gaze, see it make him tense in anticipation and wanton lust.  And you smile, because this part is always your favorite, the part just before physical contact is made, the part where you can see exactly what you've done to him without actually having to do much of anything. 
A heartbeat.  A breath.  A constrained thought.  And then the moment passes and the bridge is built that connects you, always always connects you to him.  And you rush forward to slid your hands up his bare chest and to lock them behind his neck and to kiss him.  And he rushes forward to hold your naked body against his naked body and to kiss you back just as fervently as he can manage.
There is a part of him, perhaps a very big part, that is afraid of what comes next.  He normally wouldn't be, normally wouldn't even care, because he is danger and danger has nothing to fear.  But tonight he is something else, too, and tonight is different anyhow.  Tonight, there will be no pain, and that is somehow more frightening than anything he'd ever experienced.  Because it means that by the time the night is over, something startlingly new will come between you and him, something that may just have something in common with the strange twang to the atmosphere.
You take the lead because it's what you do best, and its natural to you, and Skull doesn't mind.  You take the lead because you want to see him squirm and thrash and scream and whimper, not from pain but from intense, crippling pleasure.
Skull feels himself stepping back, but his bodily actions don't take root in his mind until the back of his knees have already touched the mattress.  And then he is falling, suddenly, and it is all he can do to remain in a sitting position as you tower above him.
You are a goddess.  There can be no other description of you, or of the way you hold yourself, and look at him, and touch him.  Your eyes stare directly into his and he cannot breath at the sight the emotion in them creates.  It is powerful, so powerful that Skull has to silently tell himself that it is alright to move.  He breathes.
Your hands smooth over his shoulders first.  It is an innocent touch, a curious touch, but it makes Skull shiver and has his skin erupting in goosebumps as your fingers gently ease by.  He breathes again, watching you tilt his head back.  The mattress depresses as your knee comes up to press between his legs.  Your lips close in on his, but you don't kiss him, only brush past in an aching, yearning, delicious imprint of what will be.  He doesn't breathe this time.
He wants to ask you one more time, if you really intend on splitting apart the pain and the pleasure.  But he already knows what your answer would be because this is entirely new, this sensation of touch, this anticipation.  It has never found its way into your previous lovemaking.  You have never looked so tender and so sweet than you do now, and so Skull refuses to shatter this image of brilliance for a stumbled question.  Instead, he slowly, slowly, slowly sinks down, first to his elbows, then to his back.  He closes his eyes.  He surrenders.
And it feels morbidly frightening, but also so, so enchanting.  Like the first taste of a spring morning, where you wake up to the birds chirping and the sun stretching soft, warm rays about the room.  Like the wild, nomadic feeling you get from standing at the top of a cliff and looking down, down at what could be considered many things: a fall, a death, a chance, a stroke of luck.
And you feel it too, except in a different way, from a different point of view.  Because you are that sun, the birds, the fall.  You are looking up from the bottom of the cliff, waiting, wondering, ready to be the stroke of luck.
You lean down slowly, because you have long before shed that sense of urgency.  You lean down softly and you press a gentle kiss to his lips, so bare and earnest that Skull doesn't have any choice but to re-open his eyes.  Because he wouldn't miss seeing the building emotion in your gaze for the entire world.
It is beautiful, the way you look at him, and it makes him feel in way he's never experienced.  It makes him dangerous and heady and innocent and naïve all at once.  It makes him yours.
The burning sensation of your bodies has convulsed, changed into something more, something brighter, something stronger.  You lean down and suddenly the urgency is back, swinging back and forth with a vengeance that makes it difficult to follow.  So you forge ahead and create a new path, a wanton one that follows nothing, nothing save for the desperate mixture of need and power and you and him.
He drags you down, rolls you around, presses you into the mattress as soon as he has taken his place above you.  And normally this wouldn't happen.  Normally you wouldn't allow him to dominate you, because you don't allow any man to, but tonight is different.  Skull is different.  You find yourself wanting him to overpower you, wanting him to put you in a place that no man has ever succeeded in doing before.
Your tunnel your fingers through his hair and sigh out blissfully as his lips burn against yours.  You can feel every bit of him pressed to every bit of you and it is delicious.  He is already so hard.  His length is pressing against your abdomen and it shakes you, drowns you, consumes you, rejuvenates you.
And then he looks at you, presses his forehead against yours, lines himself up, and you are shaking and drowning and being consumed in other ways, stronger ways.
He groans, dominating you but not overpowering you.  And that is the difference between your previous encounters and this one.  You see it in a moment of startling clarity that shocks you.  It shocks you but it pleases you at the same time, and you throw yourself into the passion that is running through your body.  You want to get lost in the adrenaline.  So you do.
Skull takes you down at path you've never tread before.  You allow him to, because it brings him pleasure, and he deserves to feel the intensity of it.  He buries his head against your neck and he breathes in and out, rolling his hips so deeply against yours that all you can do is clutch him and lay silent.
But silence is not always enough.  Skull lifts his head to look at you, and as he takes you he stares directly into your eyes, which make him feel so dangerous.  He kisses you, softly, barely touching his lips to yours.  He pushes your hair away from your forehead.  He breathes.
You kiss him back, stronger, but you don't have time to lower yourself back into the rivulets of bliss, because then he is asking you something.  Asking you to, "Stay with me?"
It takes you a few moments to clear your mind enough to understand his words, and then you have another bout of brilliant clarity and it makes you warm this time, not shocked.  Because in the subtext of his words, he is asking something else, something far more powerful.  So you answer him back in the only way you can, reaching up to kiss him almost, almost harshly, nearly roughly, edging on burning, uncontrollable, searing passion.  And in the rough, harried kiss you whisper words you've never said aloud, ever, ever, ever.  "I love you."
It is so sentimental, so strange for you.  But it instantly changes the entire way Skull makes love to you.  He is surprised, shocked, but his eyes are so warm that it isn't an uncomfortable surprise.  He looks at you with an emotion you can finally understand, and then he kisses you, and then he takes you down into a sort of pleasure that you've never before knew existed.
It is phenomenal.  "Skull!  I'm…I'm going to -- "  He grunts and rolls his hips faster into you, hitting you perfectly and deeply.  He feels himself coming undone as well.  He picks up his pace, and then he watches as you crumble and fall.  And then he falls, too, because the sight of you inspires him.
It is only later, when you are asleep and Skull has you curled up around him, the picture of innocence, that he realizes how true your words to him had been.  You managed to give him the pleasure without the pain, something that Skull has never had and has never really cared to have.  But that is only because he hadn't tasted it before now, hadn't experienced the pure, undiluted bliss of being one with you.  He vows that from this moment on, he will rip the pain and pleasure in half and bring you what you deserve, what you have always deserved.
Skull closes his eyes.  He has never felt so dangerous.  He has never felt so strong.  He breathes.

~~~

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