Wednesday, October 23, 2013

An Adult!Colonello Lemon -- Chemicals

Character: Colonello

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: Every smut collection needs an Adult!Colonello :3

It is midnight and you are restless, for something or someone who is not laying beside you, warming your bed.  Everything is empowered during the night.  The ticking of the clock, the springs in the mattress, the creak of floorboards, the burning sensation in your heart.  It is a fire like no other and it comes from a peculiar mix of boredom and desire, mingled together like two chemicals.  And it swoops and dives over every inch of your skin, making you toss and turn and glower at the light that shines just beneath your bedroom door.
The sheets are suffocating swaths of fabric.  Your pajamas, the little shorts that cling low to your hips and the worn cotton undershirt, feels like strangling holds.  An impatient breath blows past your lips and you flip onto your back, staring at the dark ceiling and wondering what your lover could possibly be doing.  The clock ticks and tocks, ticks and tocks beside the bed.  As if laughing at your solitude, your boredom, your desire.
A minute goes.  Five minutes.  Until finally you sigh and sit up, ease your legs over the side of the bed, stand up.  You rub the sleep from your eyes and suddenly feel an annoying sensation of exhaustion overcome you now that you are out of bed.  But you ignore it, just as it has been ignoring you, and instead pad off to the source of that light, two rooms over.  And what you see there surprises you even though it shouldn't, the sight of Colonello hunching over one of his guns, a polishing rag in hand.
He doesn't see you at first so you just opt to watch him, curiosity drowning in your eyes.  His blue eyes are startlingly clear in the dim light, but they are directed only at his work, the way his fingers brush over the cold metal, the way he holds it close to his chest like a lover.  You roll your eyes, but then suddenly realize something that perhaps you had known all along but just hadn't acknowledged: he looks ridiculously erotic sitting there at midnight polishing a gun.  It is strange but it is powerful, and you shift to lean against the threshold as your eyes follow every movement of his hands.  Up and down, up and down, over gleaming, dark, devious metal.  Up and down.  And of course, having the mind that you do, it is really no question as to where your thoughts immediately go.  Your eyes darken into pools of that bored desire and you smirk.
"Colonello," you say.  Your voice is quiet but cuts right through the light silence, and he jerks up in shock.  His eyes glint over your form and he leans back, heart beating fast in his chest as he tries to calm it down.  But then he sees the smirk on your mouth, the way it makes your eyes positively mischievous, and he cannot calm down, not for a moment.  Because he knows that smirk and those eyes, knows them to be very potent in the most delicious sort of manipulation.
You push off of the threshold and step into the room.  The way his eyes appraise you makes you wish you had worn something else to bed, something sexier.  But he doesn't mind.  He likes seeing you in your pastel shorts and his own cotton undershirt.  Likes the way it flows about your body in such a natural way and makes your chest look soft and your body look inviting.  He crosses one leg over the other, ankle to knee, and watches you with those sharp shooter eyes.  Watches the desire pull at the bottommost corners of your gaze, dragging the color of them into something almost unrecognizably cimmerian. 
"You should have invited me if you were going to polish your guns," you said, innocent and yet so, so not.  You smile and watch his eyes flash.  Then you chuckle a little because your words are so ridiculous and yet somehow have the strange potential to be desirous, if only a little.  He chuckles too because he agrees, and yet he loves hearing your stupid innuendos  loves hearing them glide past your lips with that imperfect confidence. 
You step over to his form and sink to the floor at his feet, hands ghosting over his knees as you look up at him.  "I couldn't sleep," you tell him, as if divulging some sort of secret.  He hums and puts the gun down.  His fingers are stained with gray polish and he smells like metal and earth, but you don't mind.  Don't even mind it when he runs his fingers lightly through your hair and touches your cheek. 
In response he says, "Is that so?" and it strikes you that it is the first time he's spoken so far.  His voice is gravel under boots and has the edge of dirt to it.  You aren't sure if it's from exhaustion or something else, something that is just beginning to circle the room, your body, your heart.  But you like the sound of him when it is midnight and when you can't sleep.  You like it so much that you lean forward to rest your chin on his knee and circle your arms around his shin, like you are a predator holding down your prey, which you are about to devour. 
You kiss his knee, your lips dipping gently over the green fabric of his pants, and he moves his legs a little, sliding them open and allowing you to nestle within the confinement of them.  As he leans back Colonello knows, knows very well that there will soon be nothing between you and his desire, which is a slowly, intricately building tower that will encompass everything in sight.  His fingers thread through your hair and he pulls your head up so that he can see into your eyes, see if you are suffering from the same sort of withdrawal.  It doesn't take much to find the desire that pulses through your gaze and into your veins, though, and soon you are shifting forward, easing his fingers away from your hair to kiss over his knuckles, his fingertips, his palm.  Then you are moving your lips to his leg, his thigh, careening your body against the front of the chair to reach the soft bulge that is beginning to form in his pants.
He watches with dark, gleaming eyes, eyes that are about to burst into the full potential of his passion.  Your hands follow your lips and rub little circles over his hips, his inner thighs.  But you don't touch his manhood, and for that Colonello isn't sure what to think.  Isn't sure if it is the anticipation that is making him so impatient or just the fact that your teasing is getting old.  He growls a little, his chest rumbling into the slightest sound of warning, and you look up at him with an eyebrow raised.
"What's wrong?" you wonder, faux innocence perforating your tone.  It makes him grind his teeth and lean forward, his tall frame all but towering over yours.  Then his fingers are suddenly working at the ties of his pants, undoing them with a furious, fumbling need that makes him look crazed and erotic.  You stop him just before he is able to draw out his erection, for the simple pleasure of doing it yourself, and chuckle.  Your breath ghosts over his hands and you guide them to your head, letting him tunnel his fingers into your hair once more.  Then you mutter, "So impatient," and dive your hand into the opening of his pants to pull out his cock, which isn't quite as hard as you'd like to see it become.
Colonello sighs out and his eyes flutter closed.  The air between you is so thick with tension that you could hack it away with the edge of a machete and still not be free of it.  A delicious sort of desire suddenly pounds through your body as you look down at his cock, study the most intimate part of him.  Then, because you've suddenly never wanted anything else in your life, you lean forward to take him slowly, gently into your mouth.
"Mmnnm…" he sighs, a relieved, pleased sound that lightly cascades over your ears.  You open your eyes and see him staring down at you, the clear blue of his gaze now only a dusky sapphire that gleams through the dim lighting like sunlight through painted glass.  You wonder, for a moment, what the sight of you does to him.  If he enjoys seeing your lips around his length, if he likes the way you bob against him.  But then suddenly you are overcome by the sheer magnetism of having him in your mouth and you are blown away by this simple, startling little fact.  It is delicious, perhaps not in a physical sense but certainly in an emotional one.  The feel of him, the silky way he glides beneath your tongue, the hardening of his arousal, it makes you close your eyes again and immerse yourself in the sensation of him.
It is equally delicious to him, it seems.  His fingers tightly grasp your hair but he doesn't pull you against him or force you in any way.  His head falls back against the plush chair and his mouth falls open in a silent moan.  But his eyes, they never leave you.  He watches every move you make, watches every dip of your tongue and every thrum of your breath as it slides fast away from you.  And then, when you duck your head farther against him and take him into the back of your throat, as deeply as you can, he moans out lowly and pulls you roughly to him, hips edging forward as his eyes explode with lust.
You gag and he lets go immediately, seeming to remember himself just a little.  He watches with dark eyes as you push back for a moment to catch your breath, sneak a glowing, amused look up his way, and then ease your lips back around his girth.  You do it again and he grits his teeth as his body erupts into magnificent shivers, feeling the beginnings of an orgasm tracing through his veins like liquid fire. 
And that is when he tugs you back, leaning over you, chest heaving as he looks down at the mess you have made him into.  His cock is now a twisted, aroused warning which curls up toward his stomach, as hard as gleaming, satiny steel.  He breathes out quickly, dipping his eyes to yours and tilting your head back with those stained fingers.  He suddenly wants to see you bare, bare and raw and a panting mess just like he is now.  And he wants to be the one to do that to you, to make you come and yell his name until it is a sore, memorized phrase.  You smirk up at him, duck your head to press your mouth against his wrist, and against his skin you whisper, "Take my clothes off, Colonello." 
You might as well have asked him to fuck you senseless.  His eyes flash into sharpened, lustful spikes and your body pounds, aches for the heightened desire to have him touch you.  You want his hands all over you, everywhere.  You want to feel the fire that scorches through him now, feel it all over your skin and inside you.  And so you let out a little moan when he suddenly pushes forward, leaning over your form with those determined, delicious eyes.  His hands seek the bottom of your undershirt and he yanks it up over your head, throwing it away.  Your bare breasts are revealed to his hungry eyes and he reaches down for them, cupping them in his large hands and then rolling his fingers over your nipples, watching your head fall back and your lips bite back a moan.  But that won't do, not at all.
"Open your mouth," he growls, and you look up at him with eyes that, for once, are far from mischievous.  You are clay for him to mold and he knows it.  He leans forward still, hands slinking around to smooth over your back, lips brushing just over yours.  And against them he murmurs, "I want to hear every sound you make."
You shiver brilliantly and lean forward to kiss him harder, but he doesn't give you the pleasure.  Instead he pulls away, amused by the petulant glower you send him, and brings his hands to his own shirt.  Your glower is gone by the time the fabric joins the slowly growing pile on the floor, replaced entirely by an expression of utter need that makes Colonello shudder lightly.  He likes it when you look at him like that, like he is your oxygen and you can't live without him. 
He lets you reach up to smooth your hands over his chest, shivering just a little at the coldness of your fingertips.  When you circle three fingers around his heart, he leans forward to press his forehead against yours.  For a long moment you stare into his eyes and can't breathe, because your body is sparkling with a deeper sort of emotion, a bold happiness that strikes you hard and rings throughout the entirety of your body.  Your hands ease up over his broad shoulders and you lean in to kiss him, finally pushing your mouth to his.  He kisses back with a dilapidated sort of passion that crumbles and vibrates over you.  You tremble.  He breathes out and then suddenly his lips are fire against yours and so, so hasty, needy, pushing you back and making you understand.  Understand exactly what you have done to him.  Understand exactly what he will do to you.
He grasps your back as you tip backwards, surprising you with the force of his kiss.  You feel his fingers stroking over your skin and you moan a little breathlessly and hold onto him.  Your knees shake.  Your body aches.
And then all of the sudden Colonello is breaking the kiss and heaving you to your feet, standing before you with his pants dragging halfway down his thighs and a hard, wanton expression on his face.  He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him, skin to skin, chest to chest.  Your breasts mold to his skin and he looks down at you.  His fingers drag up your neck, tilting your head a little as he studies the way your body fits against his.  His cock is a hard reminder between your crushed bodies.
You kiss him, dragging your mouth over the skin of his neck, up his jaw, to kiss the corner of his mouth.  When he makes a pleased sound and kisses you back, you slide your hands down his chest and fiddle with the pants that are uncomfortably hanging off him.  A quick jerk and they at on the floor, kicked aside, and then Colonello has caught on and is encompassing his hands over your jean covered ass and pulling you roughly against him, lips working furiously with yours.
He jerks at the buttons and pull them down, sliding his hands over the bare skin of your butt as he pulls your panties off too.  Suddenly there is no time.  No time to go slow and no time to discover gentle passion.  He heaves your lower body against his again and the feel of him, hot and ready and hard, has you biting back a fierce moan as you tip your head back.
He growls and follows you, teeth nipping at your bottom lip, tongue racing out to dash against your tongue.  Your hands thread into his hair and he hooks one of your legs around his waist.  And suddenly you can see everything with startling clarity, every emotion that pulls and pushes at your body like waves.  Every need that burns within you and fuels your desire.  And every single one of his, too.  You break the kiss because you want to feel him inside you and you can't wait another second.  For a moment you stare at each other, waiting, testing.  And then you're sinking to your knees in front of the chair he had just vacated, glancing at him from over your shoulder with eyes that scream out, 'fuck me, fuck me, fuck me'.
He shivers because the sight of you is one he will not forget any time soon.  He shivers because in that position he can see exactly how wet you are, exactly how ready you, and the way you're leaning forward and looking at him makes him want to bury his cock as deeply into your folds as he can.  And he knows you'd like nothing better, so he goes to kneel behind you, hands firmly taking a hold of your bottom.  He presses his shaft against the skin of your leg and then watches you shiver and push back against it, a small, breathless keen leaving your lips. 
"Colonello…" you whisper, looking back at him again.  Your eyes are convulsing with that desire, the chemicals of it burning a slow path through your body.  He grips you harder and breathes out, lines himself up, and pushes into you.  And when he is inside, when your heat and your tightness is finally surrounding him, Colonello can't even breathe.  He thrusts shakily into you with increasing litheness and you moan, moan like nothing he's ever heard.  You don't hold anything back and he loves it, loves hearing the shards of pleasured noises escaping your parted lips.  And he wishes he could kiss you and absorb those moans into himself, but he will have to wait for another time.  For now he is far too lost in the delicious feel of this position.
Your breasts push up against the rough fabric of the old upholstered chair, and the scratchiness of it makes your nipples sore and raw.  But you don't care.  It is delicious and you spread your legs farther, pushing your butt into the air and arching your back and grasping the chair likes it's the last thing left on earth.  And the sight of your body wound up like that, like a cat, has Colonello gritting his teeth and pushing into your faster, faster.  His cock rushes over the sensitive skin of the most sacred part of you and you can't help but moan his name over and over.  Your head is tossed back.  Your toes curl.
It is a desire like none other and you can't hold it back for anything.  Your passion rocks through you in time with his thrusts.  You try to meet him halfway but you find that he won't let you.  Colonello is dominating you like no one else can and you love it, love it so much that you can't possibly stave off the orgasm that is beginning to twist around your lower body.
Like a coil, it snaps and breaks through you, shattering over your skin like watered champagne.  "Colonello!" you gasp, rocking your hips back faster even though it won't do any good.  You cannot control your body now.  You move on your own, without even knowing what you're doing until you're halfway finished.  Colonello moans, feeling your muscles clench around him, feeling your become even wetter, dripping with desire.  The feel of you now is like none other and he nearly dies before he can come.  He pushes into your faster, thrumming his hips against you at a pace that leaves you so breathless you can't even moan anymore.  And then with a low, gravelly, husky moan he spills himself into you, cock straining against your walls as he is milked clean.
"Fuck," he mutters, bracing himself and ramming his hips harder against you.  "Fuck fuck fuck."  His voice is a cadence of curses the blisters over your skin and leaves you raw and tingling.  He comes long and hard, feeling ridiculously empowered as one hand comes down on the top of the chair.  He holds himself up and breathes in the scent of sex, the musk of your entwined orgasms, the sweat that seethes over you bodies.  And then he stops, stops moving and just holds himself in place over the top of you, hands depressing into the cushion of the chair, cock now a softened mass within your sodden folds.
You gasp together, bodies warming each other.  And suddenly you want to kiss him, want to turn around and let him hold you.  Suddenly you want to sleep.  You are exhausted.  Perhaps you have been for a while and are only just realizing it.  It must be early in the morning by now and you feel like you haven't slept in days.  So you turn to look at Colonello and he nuzzles his face against your hair for a moment before easing out of you and rocking back on his heels.  He takes a moment to look at your body, the body he has become very familiar with, and is pleased with the spent way you follow him up. 
Neither of you say anything.  But as he takes you into his arms, press his naked body against yours and kisses you, you know what the silence is trying to tell you.  And when you lead him to the bed that calls out to you, leaving behind gun polish and cotton shirts, that silence follows, whispering words against your eardrums as you curl up against your lover in a tangle of sheets and limbs.  And it is telling you 'go to sleep, go to sleep, I love you now.' 
He brings you close, his stained fingers shifting against your back as he drags you against him, and kiss the corner of your eye.  You don't have to hear concrete words to know what that silence means.  You smile.  You have never felt as loved as you do now, here in the dark, well past midnight, in Colonello's arms.


1 comment:

  1. OH GOODNESS. Please write another Colonello fic! This was amazing! c: