Wednesday, July 31, 2013

An Adult!Verde Lemon -- Fall Deeply, Darkly

Character: Adult!Verde

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: I have a soft spot for geeky intellectuals.  Even the asshole ones like Verde, haha :)

There is nothing more terrifying than being in love.  It is an emotion that isn't really an emotion, but rather a living thing that rises up within a person, sometimes so strongly, so willfully that it cannot possibly be quenched.  It cannot be tamed.  Cannot be understood.  It just is, like the freshness of an autumn morning or the wild crash of waves upon a white shore.
Love is forever and yet it is so, so short.  Love is grasping for something that it always just out of reach, always just tipped far enough away to really want it, to really need it.  Love is sacrifice, love is young, old, new, rough, bare, raw.  Forgiving.  And yet sometimes, love isn't always as stark as all that.  Sometimes it's subtler, shallower, harder to see.  Like the beginning of a gasp or the light caress of fingertips over skin. 
You tilt your head and the worlds tilts with you, simply because you are intoxicated by the burnished, exulted feeling of skin pressed against yours.  Your head aches just a little because you had quite a bit to drink the night before.  Your head also aches because you are afraid.  Love is terrifying.  It is terrifying even now, as you press yourself against the body of the man you've fallen for and wonder what he will say when he wakes up.  When he realizes that he is naked and you are naked and there can only be one reason for it.
You watch him carefully, taking in the soft expression of sleep as it brushes over his cheeks, his forehead, his mouth.  The sun filters slowly into the room, making his green hair alight into glorious hues of viridian and gold and emerald.  You want to touch his hair, tunnel your fingers through it, but you are afraid to wake him up.  Your heart is beating so haphazardly that you wonder if it will beat right out of your chest.  So you settle for watching him, the way his chest raises and falls, the way the single white sheet dances over his hipbones, and his lashes, which frame dazzling eyes that remain thankfully closed.
But not for long, you know, and it is sooner rather than later that Verde begins to wake.  The first sign if his wrinkled brow, his frown as he realizes how badly his head is pounding.  Then a sigh, deep and sleepy.  Then the fluttering of lashes and the blurry green eyes that immediately lock onto yours.  He stares and you hold your breath, afraid and yet emboldened by the strange passion he had given you the night before.  It had been like nothing you'd ever experienced. 
He sighs again, but this time it is more of a growled harrumph.  His glasses lay resting on the table beside the bed and without them, he can't see very clearly.  But he knows it is you, he isn't stupid, and he remembers being with you the night before.  He'd remembered even before he opened his eyes to find you curled up just out of his reach, for you'd shifted away from him as sleep began to abandon him.
"You're still here," he mutters, and watches a blush spread over your cheeks.  You try to keep it down but you can't, because the expectant way he speaks makes you unsure, hesitant.  You hate it, hate that he is already forming distance between the both of you even when he's only been awake a matter of moments.
It makes you angry enough to respond as though you aren't blushing, as though you aren't afraid of what comes next.  You lift yourself up and don't care when the sheet drops away from your upper body, or when Verde's eyes flash down to take in the sight of you.  You frown at him and tell him, "Of course I'm still here.  I'm not some whore who comes and goes as you please." 
He narrows his eyes at you, but without his glasses Verde's would-be glare looks ridiculous, like a blind rat.  You can't possible stop the laughter that comes suddenly bubbling from you, nor can you resist allowing it to drain away your fear.  Fear is power, after all.  In an attempt to press your fear farther away, you lean carefully over the length of Verde's body and take his glasses from the bedside table.  When you are on your own side of the bed again, you find that he is staring at you with a strange look in his eyes.  You battle down another blush.
"Here," you tell him, enjoying the fact that you have finally found an excuse to touch him.  You brush away his hair and begin to slip his glasses onto his face, and he scoffs as you do but doesn't stop you.  "There, now.  You look more like yourself."  And yet you almost find yourself regretting that move, because now Verde can see.  He can see you, upper body completely bare as you sit before him in a tangle of legs.  He can see the way you're blushing again and the emotion in your eyes, and the rise and fall of every breath as it leaves your lungs.  He can see it all.
He watches you for a long moment, and then turns his chin away.  His cheeks are enveloped in the barest of pinks and it is adorable.  You want to smile, but you find that you cannot.  A thick emotion has taken hold of you and it crushes your lungs, your heart, into senseless flutters of nerves that pitter patter down your body.  You are terrified by that strength of this unknown emotion, terrified at how it seems to drag you down into something you aren't yet ready for.
How do you go about this?  You weren't sure before and you aren't sure now, as Verde glances at you from the corner of his eye.  You both remain there in awkward silence for a few drawn out moments, and then Verde seems to decide that enough is enough, and moves to get up.
He is sitting on the edge of the mattress, bare legs untangled from the sheets.  His eyes search for the white lab coat that must be littered with the other clothes strewn on the floor.  A mix of his and yours.  But you won't let him find that coat, and you won't let him go.  Not now and not ever, especially when you know that if you do, things between you will only get worse.  More awkward, more uncomfortable, more hollow.  So you shot forward just as he is about to stand, arms encircling his waist and pulling him back.
The suddenness of the movement makes him inhale sharply in surprise.  He crashes back, nearly falling backwards onto you as both of your balance becomes warped and clumsy.  His elbows shoot out to catch his fall and in the heat of the moment, one of them cuts directly into your stomach.  You gasp aloud as pain blossoms over your abdomen, frowning as you struggle to heave yourself back up.
"What was that for?" he asked, annoyed.  But his annoyance turns to embarrassment when he realizes that the sheet has forsaken the both of you and has billowed to the floor in a useless mess.  He jolts a hand down and snatches it back up, cheeks flaring a deep red.  He jerks his chin up and away from you again, but this time you are happy for it because you are naked too, and you feel yourself blushing just as hotly as him.
"I don't know," you mutter, but you do know, just as truly as you know your own name, or the memorized chemicals on the periodic table which had so impressed Verde when you first met.  And he knows you know, too, because after all he's been working with you for two whole years now and he knows more of you than he ever thought he would.
Silence once again perforates the air.  But it isn't awkward this time.  This silence is heavy but not uncomfortable, and Verde sighs out.  He shifts, then said slowly, "…About last night…"
About last night.  The three words that every woman curses.  The three words that you find yourself cursing now, even as you dread the remained of his sentence, which coincidentally never comes.  It hangs in the air between you like three long spikes, ridge and relentless.  It makes you cringe away from him, turning your face to the other side of the room, turning your body there as well.  Because you cannot possibly take the rejection.  It will crush you.  Rip you.  Damage you beyond recognition.
"Just say it," you beg, not looking at him.  Your voice comes out in the barest of whispers, the rawest of tones.  You are left gasping into the silence and wondering what he is thinking.  Your thoughts all cloister together, clawing at the recesses of your mind and wishing, not for the first time, that you could read into his.  Just say it, say it, say it. 
But he doesn't.  At least not the fierce rejection that you are expecting.  Instead, Verde mumbles something else, something that makes you freeze, makes your heart beat wildly, makes you wonder just what he is getting at.
"…I've never…been good at this," he mutters, staring at his hands.  His cheeks are flaring with pinks and reds and, it you would only look up at him, you would no doubt find it adorable.  But you don't, and he edges a glances at you before sighing and asking, "[Name].  Are you going to leave?"
You stop.  Breathing, seeing, thinking.  You stop because there is something in his voice that makes you stop.  Something that screams out like a small child bereft of love, like a squalling, motherless babe.  Like someone desperately hoping that the next few moments won't go entirely wrong.
You stop because you can't think to do anything else.  You stop and you sigh and you take a shaky breath, and then you whisper a short, jagged, desperate, "…Do you want me to?"  But even as you say it, you know.  You know his answer and you're already rejoicing, already crying out in happiness.
Verde blushes again.  He reached for your hand and wraps his long fingers around yours, squeezing you tightly.  Then he breathes and short, "No."  And it is like the sun shines mirrors directly into your heart, your eyes, your smile.  Your mouth curves up and you turn to him, finally.  You drink in the sight of him, the way he looks at you with those dark red cheeks, that way his eyes flash out at you, the way his body is angled towards you.  You grin.
"That's good," you say, nodding to yourself.  You ease forward, crawling over the short distance between him and you, and even though he blushes, Verde doesn't seem to mind when you press your lips against his.  "That's very good."
It is an anti-climatic kiss, but some things in life aren't dramatic and don't have any need to be.  And that's why, as you gently push him down into the pillows, you don't mind if your connection doesn't sing with energy or bliss.  It sings with something far greater anyhow.  Something that people are always, always searching for, and sometimes never find.  Happiness.  True, unadulterated happiness.
It is with reluctance that Verde falls.  He's never put much stock in emotions, especially not the ones that make the heart beat faster.  But with you it is infinitely different.  It's like the entire world has shifted and he has only just discovered that you are the reason for it.  And you are.  You came into his life and you changed him.
You bodies move together slowly, as though rediscovering last night's actions on their own terms.  You cannot deny that you are a little afraid of this, too.  Last night you were bolstered up with alcohol, and it made you strong.  But now that alcohol is gone and you are left gasping, wondering if what you're doing is right or wrong, will please him or make him uncomfortable.
You are so caught up in your misgivings, though, that it is a while before you realize that Verde is struggling from the exact same issue.  He has dedicated his entire life to his research and has tossed away the prospect of romance.  He has no idea what to do, and it is with a start that you understand how silly the two of you must look.  Both inexperienced, both unsure.  You start to laugh, and Verde looks a little offended.  He narrows his eyes.
"What?" he asks, wondering if perhaps he is holding you too tightly, or not tightly enough.  His mind immediately shifts his actions into categories and he tries to wheedle out what he has done to make you laugh, but you shake your head before he can come to a conclusion and tell him, "Nothing.  It's just…us.  We're both so…"  You don't even have to finish.  He knows, understands what you're saying.  The shortest shift of a smile overtakes his features before it is gone, and then he is suddenly rolling over, pushing you down into the mattress, kissing you.
Against your lips, he is whispering, "We'll figure this out together."  And it is so profound, so romantic, that you feel yourself swooning against the pillows.  Your arms reach up for him.  You pull him down, crash your mouth to his wildly, hook you leg over his waist and drag his hips down.  He gasps and moans, cheeks shattering with color as he feels your wet core rubbing against his hardening shaft.
"Oh…" he breathes, and it is such a simple declaration of pleasure of you kiss him harder, faster, hands moving down to capture his ass and jerk his hips against yours.  This time, his moan is even fiercer.
Being with Verde feels different during the day lit hours.  There is something that has changed between you, and it isn't just the lack of alcohol.  It is something else, something natural.  It has to do with the sunshine that explodes along the length of your bodies, and the soft sheets that frame you, protect you.  It has to do with the way time seems to stand still, and the way the room seems to chase away the darkness and the thoughts of rejection and of what would happen in the morning.  It is glorious and it makes you feel new, refreshed, clean.
You look up at Verde and he looks down at you and you smile, because your heart feels close to imploding from the happiness that has taken a hold of you.  You can't breathe, you are so happy.  Can see only him, feel only him.  When his hips roll against yours, this time on their own, you find yourself drowning against his skin and his lips and his whispers. 
"Verde…" you murmur, head thrown back just a little.  You pant, your chest heaving.  You are already naked and already ready for him, so much that it almost hurts.  You feel hollow without him inside you, like you are forever missing an intricate, important piece of yourself.  You want him to bury himself inside of you and take away your every thought.  But he doesn't, though he looks like he wants to, too.  He just hovers above you with an unsure expression etched over his face, his brow furrowed and his hand smoothes up and down your side.
"What's wrong?" you ask him, but you already know the answer.  He doesn't respond, just looks down at you and clears his throat.  It has never occurred to you that he might be just as nervous as you are.  Men aren't supposed to be nervous when it comes to sex.  But Verde is, and it makes him seem endearing to you now.  You reach up, your fingers brushing over his pink cheeks and then down along the length of his neck.  You hook your other leg around his hips, spreading yourself for him. 
Then you reach down, fingers brushing over his hard length.  He hisses just a little, because when you touch him it feels like his entire body is on fire.  He doesn't remember much of last night but he knows that he wouldn't mind revisiting this particularly moment.  He watches you guide his manhood into you with eyes that seem a little ashamed, a little uncertain.  But you blow away all his doubts when you bring his head down and you kiss him.  And into the kiss you whisper, "We'll figure this out together, right?"
He falls for you then, like he's never fallen for anything in his entire life.  You have your own throne, your own palace.  You are his queen, his lover, his goddess.  He kisses you back and then pushes himself into you, until his hips snap with yours and he is completely hilted inside.  And the feeling is so unlike anything he's ever known that Verde can't help the loud moan that spills from his lips, or the wild way his hips begin to move.
His thrusts shake you, drown you, make you want to explode.  You're memories of the night before are hazy at best, but you seem to remember being on the top and looking down at Verde.  This is so different, so very different.  Last night was the moon but today is the sun, bright and brilliant and beautiful and it pulls on you and shines over all your hidden emotions.
Verde groans and pins your hips to the mattress with one hand.  He falls into an easy rhythm, and with every passing moment he seems to grow within himself.  He becomes more certain, more sure of himself, more confident.  He watches you with deep emerald eyes that sear with lazy passion, and when every short, breathless moan you give, his pace increases.
You lock your ankles behind his back and scrape your nails down his spine, leaving little red welts to blossom down his skin.  The slight edge of pain makes him grind out another delicious groan.  You clutch at him tightly, hips molding with his as he rushes you both towards your end.  There is no time to wait, no reason to delay.  What you both want is freedom and that can only be received at the end of your long and tumultuous journey.
You come with a fierce moan that makes you breathless with wanton pleasure, indescribable happiness, that cascades like rivers through your veins.  His name is on your tongue and it feels good to scream it.  Your back arches right off the mattress as Verde snaps bruising thrusts against you and rams his cock deep, deep, deep within your core.  The sudden control he exhibits makes you pulse deliciously against him.  Your juices thrum against his length and he can't help but race towards his own release as a result of your own.
He is beautiful when he comes.  He buries his head against your shoulder and the pillow and he moans, his thrusts slowing and deepening, dragging out the zinging pleasure that rushes through you like an ocean.  Endless, recurrent, dazzling.
You gasp even when it is all over, even when Verde has pulled himself out of you and is laying at your side.  It will take you your entire life to catch your breath, and perhaps even longer.  You will never tire from him, not now that you have tasted what he has to offer, what he has always offered, unknowingly or not.
He brings you close against him and kisses your temple in a short display of affection.  The simple move makes your entire heart feel like it will beat right out of your chest.  You smile and wrap your arms around his slender waist.  You close your eyes.  Love is a wild animal, an untamed affair, knowledge.  And yet perhaps it is not as terrifying as you first thought. 


Monday, July 29, 2013

A Tsunayoshi Sawada Lemon -- Breathe the Same

Character: TYL!Tsuna Sawada

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn [TYL!]

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: I was looking at the collection of KHR! lemons I wrote and noticed that there was no Tsuna.  "How can there be no freaking Tsuna?" I asked myself.  Thus this lemon was born~  ^_^  truestory

Tsuna only feels truly, perfectly relaxed when he has you folded up in his arms.  The fact that you are so often gone makes this sentiment somehow brighter, somehow hotter.  The fact that you aren't one for physical contact makes it exciting.
"Tsuna, stop it," you whine, not really wanting him to stop but saying it anyway.  Because even though you dislike hugs, receiving them from Tsuna is different. 
His arms jerk you backwards, finally holding you close to him and not allowing your escape.  You smell of grass and wind and travelling, but it somehow makes the moment sweeter, brighter, hotter.  He sighs deeply in something akin to contentment and hugs you ever closer, so close that you are getting a little worried about the response.  Did he really miss you this much?  You'd only been gone for a week.
You struggle to turn in his arms, and when you do, you find yourself looking directly into soulful, bright eyes that seem to steal you away.  You had opened your mouth, intent on saying something to him, but…you suddenly can't remember what you had to say.  All you can think about is how your body is reacting to him, and how you suddenly want to kiss him rather badly.
His eyes are darkened pools of something that isn't quite lust yet, but has the potential to be.  He raises a swift eyebrow at you and you realize that your mouth is still hanging open.  With a dry smile, you close it.  With an even dryer smile, you lean in to kiss his cheek and then draw back, crushing the random desire before it can bleed into something more powerful.  You have unpacking to do, after all, and you're certain that Tsuna must have something important to do today.
He lets you go, skin tingling from your kiss and mind bent on returning the favor.  He wants to do a mighty lot of things with you.  But he just sits back and watches for now, re-familiarizing himself with the sight of your gait, the twisty curls of your hair, the line of your stockings as they hurry up your legs.  And each moment that passes is spent imagining what he will do to make you into clay and to mold you to him.
In the end, though, it is much easier to do exactly that.  You are already molded clay when it comes to Tsuna.  Already ready, already his.  And it takes only a couple of words from him to make you truly ready, and truly his.
"Come here, [Name].  I've missed you."
It is said so calmly, so suddenly, but his eyes are aglow with honesty and warmth.  So you sigh out again and go to him, sitting beside him on the mattress and watching as the setting sun plays with his features.
"I've only been gone a few days," you try to reason, but he doesn't listen.  He is already leaning in to kiss you, and his arms are already pulling you against him, and your mind is beginning to shatter in the wake of his affection.  Yes, you've only been gone a few days, but it is a few days too long for Tsuna.  He tells you this through his kiss as it burns you, sears against your mouth.  He tell you this through his eyes, as they catch and hold your gaze.  And there is little you can do when he treats you like this, so instead of fighting back you just sigh out.  This time in surrender. 
You end up on your back, with no recollection of how you had gotten there.  You only know that Tsuna is hovering over you and that he's making you feel beautiful, like a woman, a goddess, a song.  He sends you muffled whispers that have the startling potential to utterly steal you away, and you go willingly for once, all too caught up in the delicate caresses of your lover's fingers, and the gentle cadence of his eyes.
You resist a little, but only because it makes things more exciting.  When you murmur, "You really should get back to your office, Tsuna…", its only for show, for fun. You wouldn't let him leave you now even if he'd wanted to.  And he seems to know this, which is why he only smiles gently down at you and tells you he'll do more good staying right where he is.
It often shocks you, the pure adoration of your lover's gaze whenever it is turned your own.  You, who'd been brought into the world an orphan, an unloved, underfed child.  And yet Tsuna loves you.  You can see it in his every movement, his every glance.  It is a feeling that you are still coming to grips with, still unsure how to respond to it, still hesitant as to if you even should.  You've never been in love before, but there is something about the way your heart aches for Tsuna that makes you think that, if ever you could fall for a man, it would be him.
"What are you thinking of?" he whispers to you, and your eyes refocus as your thoughts are dragged from the shady corners of your mind.  Tsuna is looking down at you, a little worried.  His eyes are creased, his thumb brushes over your high cheekbone and over the swell of your slightly bruised lips.  For a moment, you are taken aback at how glorious he looks when the sun cascades over his features.  But then your expression softens into something that Tsuna rarely sees, but always makes his heart pound in an iridescent, astounding way.
Tsuna.  He's always been there.  Always, always.  And when you look at him like the way you are looking at him now, he knows that you are thinking of him.  And it makes him so blisteringly happy that he can barely take a breath.
"Tsuna," you breath, you voice the shard of a whisper, just barely coherent as it brushes over your lover's mouth.  His lips arch toward you but do not press against yours, because he is waiting, waiting with baited breath for the rest of your words, which hang in the air between you like three reflected mirrors.
You're fingers reach up and you palm his face, taking both of his cheeks in your hands as you press your forehead to his.  "Tsuna…I love you-" and his mouth is suddenly tearing against yours, moving at an alarming pace as he pushes you down into the mattress.  Heat licks at your skin and you find yourself gasping for air that isn't there.  There is only Tsuna.  Around you, above you, beneath you, taking and giving and returning and loving.
You rush to catch up with him, but it is hopeless.  He is kissing you furiously, with a passion that leaves you more than breathless.  You lay there, your arms curling around his neck, your legs propped up around his waist, and you wonder how you had ever managed to secure a man like him.  A man who would die to make you happy, who would protect you from anything and everything.
His kiss is almost rough, almost unyielding, but the rest of him is still as hesitant in the art of lovemaking as he's always been.  It is a strange happenstance that has gotten easier over the years, but still endears him to you.  For the leader of a legendary mafia, Tsuna is surprisingly unsure when it comes to sex.  That's why you help him along, grab onto his belt loops and jerk his hips down to meet yours.  The resulting clash of friction makes him gasp, slowing down the kiss to peer at you with large, thankful eyes.
You lock you legs around his hips and moan a little, because it feels so good, so amazing.  This never gets old, this pre-foreplay, because being with Tsuna always feels like the first time, in every endeavor.
But it is somehow not enough.  The kiss, the friction.  It goes to your head and makes you greedy for more, more of him and more of his affection.  So as Tsuna begins a not-so tedious trail of kisses down your neck, you focus on easing his shirt off.  When it is only a puddle of fabric on the ground, you start to admire the planes of his chest, the way his toned muscles flex at your touch.  You graze your nails over his nipples and he groans a little into your neck, his hand coming up to touch your hair, to tunnel through it as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.
Emotion sings through you, stark and needy and passionate, and you can hardly breathe in the face of it.  You are overcome by a feeling that comes to you very rarely, but always, always drowns you, rejuvenates you, startles you into submission.  He kisses you again, very softly, as though silently telling you that he loves you just as much as you love him and more.  And then Tsuna draws back, hands smoothing over your sides as he looks down at you.
He glances over at the clock and then back at you.  You follow his gaze, a question in your eyes.  "I'm supposed to be at a meeting in ten minutes," he confesses, blushing a little.  You raise you eyebrows and give him a quick look-over.  He is a mess.  There is an all too obvious bulge in his black dress pants and his skin is flustered, his lips bruised, his eyes too bright.  So you just laugh and shake your head, fingers darting up his pants and unhooking them.  There is no way you're letting him go, not now. 
"That's a shame," you murmur, edging the pants off his hips.  Tsuna swallows thickly but doesn't do anything to stop you.  He just watches with dark, heady eyes.  You smile.  He caves.
His pants are eased off his legs with his help, and soon they are joined by your shirt as he wrestles it from your body.  You gasp and laugh, holding him close to you as he kisses you.  In between the breathless shift of his kisses, Tsuna mutters, "Hayato will…take care…of things…mmm, for me…ah…"  His back arches as your hand suddenly comes down to cup the bulge in his boxers, and his eyes flutter closed.
Your name drifts easily from his lips, light and gentle and encased in that firm desire that has long since spread a fire throughout your bodies.  He presses his hips against your hand and buries his head against your neck, moaning as your clever little fingers bring him down, down to a place that exists only on the edge of reason.
"Tsuna…" your voice brings him back, but only shortly, and he gasps as he tries to clear his head.  It is hard because you don't stop touching him, but your next words are enough to give him something concrete to fixate on.  "Help me with these pants…" 
He does, a moment later.  His fingers clumsily jerk at the button of your jeans and soon, he is forcing them rather roughly down your hips.  When they are halfway down your thighs, Tsuna goes back to hook a finger around your panties, and then he immediately shuffles the both of them down and away. 
He stares for a long moment, and the air suddenly shifts into something deeper, more sentimental, more adoring.  Your heart beats a fierce pattern against your chest as you watch him watch you.  The way his eyes light over your nearly naked form makes you blush, gently, softly, the rosy hue tenderly racing over your pale skin.  "Tsuna…" you prompt, and the spells shatters as his eyes jerk back up to yours.  Within them is an emotion you cannot begin to describe, but you understand it instinctively, as truly as you understand the process of breathing.
You laugh a little, breathless and shy but never hesitant.  And then, since Tsuna doesn't seem ready to make another move just yet, you reach behind your back to unclip your bra, and ease it down your arms and off your body entirely. 
His eyes flash and you know he likes the sight of you like this, laying beneath him without a thread of clothing.  But the image is incomplete because he is still wearing his boxers, and you immediately decide to reconcile this.  You want skin.  Pure, passionate, naked, bare.  You want it so badly that it takes you longer than usual to jerk his boxers off, simply because your desire is so strong that it makes you clumsy.
But when the boxers are finally gone, it is well worth the trouble.  His manhood stands tall and ready for you, and Tsuna blushes fiercely as you stare at it.  The sight of his red face makes you laugh, because it is so silly now.  You've both seen each other so many times that nudity doesn't even matter anymore.  And yet every experience is like the first one.  Nervous, gentle, loving, full of blushes and breathless laughter and sweet, sweet caresses.
Another long stare.  Time slips by quietly, and you reach up to smooth a touch over his chest.  You fingers dance over his shoulder, down his arm.  You hook a leg around his waist and his eyes dance down to your core, which is hot and ready and meant for him only.  And he blushes again because the way you're acting now, with that surety, makes him a little shy.
But shyness has no place here, on this mattress, in these arms, and it is dispelled with a simple tug and a kiss.  A kiss that goes right to Tsuna's head and makes it spin dizzily, like a gambler's dice and a stoke of luck.  Your hips collide and its like the heavens open up, like stars filter down to earth, like the planets themselves have been jerked from their axis and thrown into random, exhilarating directions.
You kiss him and your lips seem to scream out 'take me, take me, take me now', and your body arches into his and you breath his name.  And Tsuna breaks, shatters against you, and against the delicious rivulets of pleasure you burn through him.  He breaks and he wants to break again, with you.  And so the next moment he is lining himself up against that wet, hot core and he's doing exactly as you've silently commanded.
You moan, head thrown back at the force of the intense pleasure.  It is imperfectly beautiful, this connection, and it has only been yours a matter of seconds.  Still, it is enough to make you sear with pleasure, quake with need, tunnel your fingers through his hair and stare up into his eyes and moan his name.  He rests his forehead against yours as his hips bring you down.  His every move, his every thrust makes a new shattering overcome your bodies.
His mouth tumbles down your neck, biting gently, kissing softly.  When he reaches that one sensitive spot at the start of your shoulder, his teeth roughly captures your skin and his tongue darts over it.  Coupled with the fire of your lower bodies, his touch makes you gasp aloud in saturated passion.  The world careens forward and you feel an orgasm beginning to burn its way through you. 
"Oh~  Tsuna," you moan, loudly because you can't possibly filter your voice at this point.  You want nothing more than to sink down into the depths of his love, and you do so the next moment when his thrusts shift into something that leans on domineering.  It is so delicious, the way he pins you down, that you come without warning, with only your hurried moans as explanation.
But Tsuna doesn't mind.  He is almost there, almost ready to spill himself into you, and it is in such relief that he does moments later.  He buries his head against your shoulder and pushes his hips diligently to yours, burying his manhood as deeply into you as he could possibly manage.  Every thrust made your pulse quicken, your world explode, your body fall away into something else, something greater, something inexplicitly divine.
You gasp against the harsh wave of passion as it crashes against you.  The heat of Tsuna's release shakes you to your core.  You take each other for everything and more, so much more, simply because you can.  And it never fails to leave you breathless and weak, as well as strong, tall, ready for the world and the trouble that comes with it.
But for now, trouble is far from your minds, and there is nothing, nothing you want more than to rest against your lover and find a more gentle strength in him.  Tsuna pulls you against him, his arms keeping you caged against his heart, his soul, his essence.  You bundle him up in your arms, fingers gently stroking over his forehead, his hair, and you lean in to press a soft kiss against his closed eyelid. 
It has been a long week without him by your side.  A long, travel-weary story that is both tragic and beautiful.  But now you can make a new story, a new song, one that will last longer and be far more pleasant.  And you do.
Tsuna brings you closer, closer, until your bodies are practically one, until your hearts beat the same rhythm, until your lungs breathe the same breath.


Thursday, July 4, 2013

An America Lemon -- Indian Summer

Character: America

Fandom: Hetalia

OC: Andrea Ruiz, long brown hair, hazel eyes, outgoing

Inspiration: Happy 4th! I wrote this like a crazy person just for my lovely readers.  Hope you like it :3

American summers could be hot or cold, humid or dry, depending on where in the country one was.  For Andrea, it was humid, sweaty, yucky, and the nights were spent laying atop sticky sheets and trying to imagine that it is cold and not hot, dry and not humid.  Usually, this failed to work.
You'd think that Andrea would have gotten used to this by now.  She'd lived with Alfred for a number of years already and had long ago experienced her first Indian summer.  But she would never get used to the sleepless nights, the way the air almost curled in on her, suffocated her and drowned her and pushed heat against already scorching skin.  The sun had long since left the sky but the heat remained.  And it was all she could do to just lay there and accept it.  Unfortunately, the man beside her didn't have the same amount of fortitude.
You'd also think that Alfred wouldn't mind his summers.  He liked the summer, liked the parties he was able to host, the slow evenings spent outside watching the stars and the fireflies and the fading taillights of cars.  But when it came to sleeping, he simply couldn't handle it.
He laid beside Andrea and he sighed, shifted, moved.  He couldn't get comfortable.  He was too hot, his skin too sticky.  His hair was pressed adamantly against his forehead and even without a shirt, he was melting.  And the fact that Andrea was beside him, wearing only a pair of panties and a loose fitting cropped shirt, wasn't making him feel restful.
"Alfred…stop moving around," Andrea complained, voice muffled against the pillow.  She opened one eye to glare at him, and the way he pouted at her with big blue eyes.  His face was slanted with moonlight and it traveled over the entirety of his chest.  He had kicked off the sheets moments before, leaving himself completely nude.  The fact that he wasn't wearing boxers didn't seem to concern him in the slightest, though it did surprise Andrea a little.  Her eye twitched.  "…Why aren't you wearing pants?"
He smirked in amusement and something else, something that Andrea could very easily guess at.  Then he rolled onto his side and pulled her closer, slipping his hand beneath her shirt and drifting it over hot skin.  "Why?  Does it bother you~?"
She rolled her eyes and tried to push him away.  "'S too hot, Al.  Not tonight."  But even as she pushed away, he pulled her closer, until there was hardly space between them at all.  And by then, Andrea was already reassessing her words and wondering if they were what she truly wanted.
"Mmmhmm," he agreed, leaning in to kiss her shoulder.  He pushed the fabric away so as to reach her skin better, then threw the sheet away from her body and looped a leg over the both of hers.  "Exactly.  Too hot to sleep," he mumbled, moving his fingers over the plane of her stomach.  She inhaled a little bit as she was very sensitive there, and watched Alfred with eyes narrowed in suspicion.
He pressed his mouth against hers and pushed her onto her back, holding up his weight with one arm.  When she didn't immediately respond, Alfred drew back and whined, "C'mon, 'Drea.  Let me have you."  And it was whispered in such a low, gravely voice that Andrea couldn't help but shiver and pull him back.  Even though she was burning with heat, even though their next actions would drive whatever coolness they had left into the far corners of their bodies.
Alfred smirked against her suddenly needy mouth and crushed her to him passionately, gently.  His hands sought her, smoothing over her skin as he pulled her shirt away.  The moment the fabric was gone, he was ducking his mouth over her breasts, capturing one nipple and kissing over the fullness of her form in a half circle.  Then, because he wanted to see her completely bare as soon as possible, Alfred drifted his hands down her hips and hooked his fingers beneath the band of her panties.  Then he was forcing them down her legs and tossing them away into the darkness.
The moonlight cascaded over them smoothly, like liquid courage, like shards of glass.  Alfred studied her form, the way her body breathed beneath his, the unhindered path of her skin.  And then he leaned forward and kissed her again, slowly this time, as though trying to tell her something.  She absorbed his kiss with a deep one of her own and threw both legs around his waist.  The resulting clash of friction made him moan against her lips.
"Ah…"  He buried his head into the crook of her neck and moved his hips, easing them against her core and delighting in the wetness of her.  She was already pounding for him, ready enough to have him, and though they'd only just begun their passion Alfred couldn't help it.  He wanted her now.  Wanted to pin her to the mattress and take her like he'd never done before, with wild, blazon, rugged need.
So he moved his hands to her thighs, pushed them apart, and angled himself towards her.  Then he looked up into Andrea's eyes and saw within them a mirrored form of lust, so great that it was almost made of fire.  Hot and burning, searing, pulsing, for him.  The next moment he was burying himself as deeply into her as he could possibly go, and they were both murmuring out their whispered love, compassion, strength.
The first few thrusts were slow like that.  Alfred hilted himself with each one, dragging his cock nearly entirely out of her before slamming back in.  It made Andrea delirious with pleasure, her body forgetting the intense temperature and conforming to a different one, one made entirely from lust and Alfred. 
She pulled him closer and moaned, legs locking behind him as he pulled him closer, forced him faster.  The world shifted over them in black and white, too quickly to fully grasp.  And then Alfred was forcing her hips down, ramming into her once, twice, before suddenly pulling completely out.  His cock glistened with her fluids, trained just above her core like a teasing reminder of the passion he was capable on inflicting upon her.
The world slowed, grasping, wondering.  Andrea opened her eyes to stare up at him.  Her silent question hung heavily between them and was answered with two thick, coarse words from Alfred.  "Turn around."
She shivered almost violently but acquiesced, slowly sitting up with his help.  Then she turned, sliding onto her knees and bending over.  Immediately, Alfred was pushing her down, one hand smoothing over her butt and the other easing her shoulders to the mattress.  Then, without wasting any more time, he was lining himself up again and tearing into her at a pace that left her gasping, shattering, rebuilding.  The world sped back up and vanished.
"A-Alfred!  Oh!"  she rocked back to meet his thrusts halfway, but there was no need.  He had complete control over her, a feat that only seemed to make her that much more turned on.  He took her with a sort of vengeance that made her heart skyrocket, pound, flutter against her chest.  His thrusts were controlled and adamant, his hands guiding her hips against him at just the last moment so that her world sparked and shone with passion.
It was delicious.  And the way the moon shifted over her curved back made Alfred moan.  His hand moved from its place at her hip to touch her elsewhere.  He smoothed over her thigh and then retreated to her stomach, the curve of her waist, her back, her spine, her breast.  His touch and his thrusts sent her into a fervent display of passion.  Her hands curled tightly around the sheets, her eyes closed, her voice muffled just a little by the pillow she laid on.  And then Alfred nudged her legs farther apart and just that tiny little movement made everything so much different.  So much more delicious, more fiery, more hot.  Andrea gasped and then moaned, eyes snapping open as she felt the beginnings of an orgasm tear through her.  She was a goner.
She heaved her weight onto her elbows and pushed back against him, determined to do something to spark her own orgasm and not just let Alfred have all the fun.  Her show of dominance made him groan, his hips snapping fitfully against hers as they quickened his pace.  He leaned forward, hand falling onto the headboard as he gripped it hard and increased the tempo even more, until neither of them could fully breath, speak, even moan.  The sound of skin slapping skin was the only sound in the room.
"Oh!  Alfred!  I'm…I'm coming…!" she cried out, back arching desperately as she tried to hold her orgasm at bay.  But she couldn't, not at all, and it was with a wild exclamation that she came, hard and fast and powerfully, with such a force that she could scarcely even form coherent thoughts.
The sight of her body unfurling like that made Alfred's end come all the faster.  He pushed her down again, domineering her body as he forced his hips to hurtle at a pace that was nearly inhuman.  She felt so good, her core pulsating from her orgasm, the tightness of her pleasure, the wetness of it.  It made him come with an equally loud cry, racing toward his end faster than he thought possible, faster than he'd ever done before.
"God…" Alfred moaned, spilling himself inside her.  Andrea whimpered a little a the intense feeling of his warmth spreading throughout her.  Her eyes closed again and she sighed out, feeling her body relax as Alfred's thrusts turned haphazard and inconsistent.  Then, he was pulling himself completely out of her and was sighing, lowering himself back to the mattress, pulling her against him in a single, swift move.
Silence, caressing and light.  And then, "…I'm still hot."  And Andrea only sighed, curled up against him and closed her eyes.  The heat didn't bother her anymore.  So she just pressed a gentle kiss to his chest and mumbled, "Goodnight, Alfred."
He chuckled a little, drew her closer, and whispered a soft, "Goodnight."
Together, they were dragged under the spell of the Indian summer, and they never looked back.