Wednesday, September 28, 2016

A Frodo Baggins Lemon -- An Intermission

Character: Frodo Baggins

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings

OC: Melody, short black curly hair, tawny eyes

Inspiration: This was weirdly hard to write.  I hope Frodo is in character!  


He’s having another nightmare.  She almost doesn’t want to know what he is dreaming about, but it must be bad.  The way his expression melts into horror and grief says all that needs to be said.
He doesn’t have them as much these days, but every now and then Melody will wake up to Frodo writhing in the bed beside her.  Oftentimes he is clutching the blackened scar on his shoulder from where the Morgul blade pierced him.  His dreams of Weathertop are common, but not usually this intense.
“Frodo,” Melody whispers, placing a hand on his arm.  He flinches at the contact and she feels tears build in her eyes.  She feels so useless when he’s like this, lost in that sleepy nightmarish world.  She’s almost too afraid to touch, lest she incite some new, painful memory to add to the horrors.
“Frodo, wake up,” she says, a little louder.  She leans forward to brush his hair out of his eyes and kisses his forehead.  “Wake up,” she says again, as if she’s hoping that by ordering him, he will immediately obey.
He doesn’t, but after another moment, Frodo gasps and sits up, his eyes wide and frantic as he searches the room for traces of black robed Nazgul.  But all he sees is gentle sunlight streaming in from the open windows, and it seems to quell his racing thoughts.
Melody sighs and reaches for his hand.  He turns to her wordlessly, sees the disheveled look on her face, and sighs too.  A moment later he’s lying back down and bringing her against him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, and she shakes her head.
“Don’t apologize,” she tells him, kissing his chin.  “I just wish I could stop those dreams from ever reaching you at all.  It’s been years…yet they still hurt you.”
The dreams aren’t the only hurtful things.  Sometimes he gets this faraway look on his face and stares off into the distance, as if he is reliving some memory that makes him sad.  Sometimes he smiles when he does this, but there is still a trace of grief touching his eyes – a melancholy nostalgia that she cannot heal.  And some days he is in physical pain, and the scar aches so badly that she fears he might never be rid of its evil.  Those days are the worst of them all.
He rubs at the scar and she knows that today will be one of those days.  Which is why she hooks her legs over his and shuffles on top of him.
He looks up at her with surprised eyes, hesitance curling his gaze.  When she leans down to kiss him, the hesitance clears away, partially – he could never deny her his affections.  It is an impossibility that he can’t even consider.  So he kisses her back, and when her fingers start unbuttoning his nightshirt, Frodo pulls away to murmur, “Mel – “
“Shh,” she interrupts, pressing a kiss to the revealed skin of his chest.  She shifts against him and goes to lavish attention on his neck, kissing and nipping at the exposed flesh.  He doesn’t argue again; just lays there and wraps her up in his arms.
He’s never been good at denying her this, either.
“You’re very lucky that I know a way to get rid of nightmares,” Melody tells him with a cheeky grin.  Despite the serious atmosphere that had plagued them moments before, Frodo finds himself chuckling and letting her drag the sheets away from them.  She pulls his shirt away with a quick efficiency that he finds amusing, simply because of how determined her expression is.  He knows that she’s doing this for him and he feels his heart warm at the thought.  The rest of his body follows suit beneath the heated look she sends him.
He sits up, shuffling back into the pillows.  Melody draws away briefly to tug her nightdress off of her.  The clothing gets tossed over the mattress and disappears from his line of sight – not that he looks for it.  He’s a little preoccupied by the picture she makes as she sits above him, completely bare.
For a moment he just takes her in.  Her breasts are the perfect size (though perhaps he’s being biased), nipples taut from the chill of the morning, skin glowing in the beams of sunlight that shoot generously from the three round windows on the other side of the room.  She’s gorgeous in the sunlight and Frodo can’t help but wonder what on earth she’s doing with him.
It’s no secret that the other Hobbits in Hobbiton think he’s very odd and unnatural – and that’s only a small portion of the Shire.  Yet for some reason he’s lucky enough to be able to wake up next to her every morning, to share meals with her, to love her.  Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.
Melody tsks and leans in, laying her hands on either side of his face.  “There’ll be no dark thoughts this morning, Frodo Baggins.  Not on my watch.”  The stern look she sends him makes him chuckle again.
How she can read him so easily, he’ll never know, but he doesn’t have time answer anyhow – when she leans forward even more to kiss him, Frodo loses all coherent thought.
He can feel her breasts pillow against him and it sends a sharp curl of desire through him.  He feels himself harden from that simple touch alone and kisses her back with an eagerness that makes her moan.  The little sound of pleasure makes his desire all the worse, especially when Melody suddenly grinds down against his half hard length.  He feels her slide over him, wet with her own arousal, and every trace of dark brooding thoughts leave him.
“Mmm…that’s better,” she whispers, nipping at his lip.  She pulls it into her mouth and sucks gently at him before sliding her tongue over his.  Frodo wraps his hands around her, stroking them up and down her bare form as she rocks softly against him, keening every now and then.  And with every soft shift, his patience wears thin.
“Mel…” he groans, head falling back.  His eyes dart down to their lower bodies, the way she glides over his length, coating him with her arousal.  He’s already aching for her and he’s a little surprised about that.  But she had the startling ability to make him want her in the most inconvenient moments, and his surprise doesn’t extend very far.  His control is already churning with reckless passion and it’s all he can think about, all he can feel as she kisses over his shoulder and leans down to take his length into her hand.
“Mel,” he groans again, this time full of a different kind of surprise, because he hadn’t expected her to be so forward and yet – yet – “Mmm…” he murmurs, head falling back and eyes closing as she pumps him through her fingers.
It feels so good that he can’t remember what had gotten them into this situation in the first place.  His eyes flutter open after a few moments because he needs to watch her, he can’t explain it but he needs to see her hand against him.  And the pleasure that shoots through him at the sight is well worth it, because he’s never known anything quite as arousing.
Her fingers drift over him, curling up the underside and tracing the visible veins that edge just beneath the surface.  Her touch is gentle but firm, sometimes feathery light and other times not so gentle at all.  But it’s all perfect and Frodo looks up to catch her eye, which is directed at his face.  She gives him a small smile and he groans again before saying, “I need you.”
Such a simple set of words, but so profound that it takes her breath away.  And funny, too, because Frodo really does need her – not only right now, but in every other way imaginable.  He couldn’t picture his life without her in it.  Without her soft smiles and her cheeky words and the way she eats just as much as him and might actually rival his ‘odd unnatural curiosity’.  She is always there to give him everything he needs and right now is no different. 
She doesn’t hesitate as she guides him inside her and wriggles her hips down to his.  Frodo watches every move she makes with sharp eyes, and when he’s hilted inside her, he tugs her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she starts to rock into him.
She buries her head into his shoulder and moans, tangling her fingers into his curly hair as she feels him breach her inner walls.  There’s an easy naturalness to their lovemaking that seems to transcend every other emotion, and she thinks that she’s never complete unless he’s inside her. 
He tugs her head back to kiss her, mouth melding with hers as his hips rock upward to meet hers.  Their hands are everywhere – skimming down flesh and clutching shoulders as if to ground each other somehow.  Frodo doesn’t think it works; each thrust has him spiraling further from reality and deeper into the calm satiation of his own internal dialogue.
“Frodo,” she moans, muffled against his lips.  At this point they aren’t even really kissing, just exchanging air as their mouths brush together.  It’s beautifully intimate in a way she can’t describe and isn’t sure she wants to.  So instead she turns all her attention on him and the way he’s making her feel and the way she wants him to feel, too – high like there’s no nightmarish memories holding him down.
She thinks she’s succeeding when he suddenly groans loudly and clutches her waist with tight fingers, pulling her down into a thrust that makes the edges of her vision fade.  She keeps that pace, bucking hard with every downward spin of her hips, taking him deeper and deeper and watching him closely for any sign of his unfolding finish.
It comes not long after, when she grinds down against him and circles her hips in an almost teasing fashion.  Frodo’s expression tightens at the feeling and he groans again, this time sounding breathless with need.  She knows he’s close, knows it like she intrinsically knows her own name or the color of the sky at dawn or when it’s time to sit down for tea – all inconsequential things really, in the face of all this beautiful desire.
“Frodo, touch me,” she moans, nibbling at his ear.  She wants to come with him, wants their orgasms to meld together. 
The low tumble of her words have him groaning again, and at first he doesn’t know what she’s asking because he’s so caught up in what he’s feeling.  But when she takes his hand from its place around her waist and moves it between her legs, his confusion flies away.
He touches her, firmly circling her nub with his thumb and watching with an awed expression as she reacts to him.
“Mmm, that’s right, keep going – Frodo!” she gasps.  Her hips shake forward more forcefully, bucking into him with a raw passion that has him gasping her name.  His orgasm unfurls inside him that the sight and feel of her, and when he feels her inner walls contracting around him it’s the final straw.
He spills himself into her with a moan, grappling with her hips and pulling her down hard against him, bucking his own up and meeting her halfway in a firm, almost bruising thrust.  And all the while he keeps coaxing her forward, fingers splaying out against the top of her clit as her own orgasm rather catches her off guard.
It comes so suddenly that she cries out, eyes watering at the wild, uncontrollable sensation.  Her movements turn unabashedly fierce, as if she can’t possibly help herself.  It’s wonderful, beautiful – watching her come is the best part of making love to her and he doesn’t look away from her face as she murmurs his name again and again.
A few more thrusts and she quiets down, still gasping but not as ferociously.  Her chest heaves and she curls forward to rest her face against his shoulder.  And he brings her close, still buried inside her even as their bodies slowly still.
She gently drifts back into reality as he combs his fingers through her hair.  With a tired, bleary chuckle, Melody breathes, “That was wonderful.”
Frodo laughs too, because while he agrees with her, he’s not sure he’d use that particular word to describe what they’ve just done.  She gives him a giddy smile and kisses his shoulder.
“I like your methods,” he murmurs to her, lips brushing over her temple.  She giggles.
“Does it still ache?” she wonders quietly, at once looking a touch more serious.  She touches the wound on his shoulder and leans down to kiss that, too, just for good measure.
If their lovemaking hadn’t made him feel well-loved, that little action certainly does, and Frodo sighs out in gentle happiness when he realizes that his old wound doesn’t ache anymore.  She’s healed him, at least for today, and he’s more grateful for it than he can say.
“Can’t even feel it,” he mumbles sleepily, and shuffles them down, rolling onto her side and reaching for their blankets.
As he pulls them over them, Melody jokes, “Back to bed?  What will our judgmental neighbors say?” 
He gives a little smirk and pulls her against him, tangling their legs together before he whispers, “I don’t think I really care what they say, do you?”
The look he’s giving her makes her toes curl.  She bites her lip and smiles.
“…I don’t think I do, either,” she murmurs to him, and leans in to kiss him.
Frodo groans against her lips and breathes, “Good.” 
And it’s all very good – so good in fact that they completely miss elevenses and are thirty minutes late for lunch.

~~~


Sunday, September 25, 2016

A Jasper Hale Lemon -- Blue Sunset

Character: Jasper Hale

Fandom: Twilight

OC: Melody Lexington, biracial, brown eyes, curly hair, bubbly and sarcastic

Inspiration: Because Jasper is probably better than both Edward and Jacob put together.  Actually this isn't even debatable.  Anyway I finally have some smut for Twilight yay.  I'm thinking I need something for Emmett and Carlisle now... ;3


It’s been a long time since she’s spent the entire day in bed.  She’s forgotten how extraordinarily wonderful it is to lie out on the crisp sheets and have her lover idle his way over her body.  She hasn’t forgotten how much she loves it though.  He hasn’t, either.
“Your emotions are going crazy,” he murmurs against the crease of Melody’s neck, inhaling her scent as if he’s absorbing every shard of emotive energy running through her veins.  She hums and lets her hands drift over his bare form, skimming down his chest and thumbing over the sharp hipbones that jut up against his skin.  Jasper exhales slowly as she does and leans back to look at her.  His golden eyes look particularly beautiful in the light of the setting sun.
She quirks her mouth up and murmurs, “I wonder why.”  She supposes it’s really not that difficult to feel crazy (and giddy and happy and relaxed) when he’s hovering over her recently sated body, eyes flashing like he wants to keep satisfying her over and over and over…
He smiles back and chuckles.  “This was a good idea.  We should leave town more often.”  Then he rolls onto his back and drags her on top of him, hooking her knee over his legs as he does.
She hums in agreement, presses open mouthed kisses over the pale, crescent shaped scars on his shoulder, and whispers, “I’m sure the others are just as happy to be rid of us.  We do tend to make a lot of noise.”  She giggles and he squeezes her hip playfully.
Their brief getaway from Forks has done wonders for them already, despite it being a very short one month vacation.  (Very short for them, naturally.)  The constant drama with Bella and Edward and their new daughter has certainly taken its toll on the family, in good and bad ways.  Good, because Renesmee is a lovely child and Edward has stopped sulking and bemoaning his eternal bachelor status.  Bad, because with all the drama (and having a vampire hybrid child in the house), Jasper and Melody’s sex life has taken a sharp downward spiral.
(Something that the others have been no doubt enjoyed, but it’s only made her more moody.  Her libido is very high.)
After a while, Edward apparently got so sick of having to listen to the couple’s sex-deprived thoughts that he practically forced them to take a vacation and get out of the house for a while.  So really, it’s a win-win for all of them.  Edward doesn’t have to listen to Jasper’s thoughts of where he wants to take Melody next, and Melody gets to lay in bed all day long and have her body properly worshipped like she deserves.  It can’t get any better than this.
She hums when she feels Jasper’s hand slide down her hip and trace patterns against her inner thigh.  The move definitely catches her attention and she sends him a leering smirk that he laughs at.  The one good thing about being a vampire is the fact that Jasper has an inhuman recovery rate.  Which she happens to be very thankful of, because she could go all night and never get tired of him.  (Or in this case, all day.)
“It’s our last day here,” she murmurs quietly, her mouth still quirked up in that smirk.  The mischief in her eyes makes them shine like molten gold.  Jasper watches them carefully as he props himself up on his elbow and looks down at her. 
He raises an eyebrow and smirks back.  “So…we should probably take full advantage of it, right?” he asks, shucking her leg up higher before twisting his hand down to grasp her ass.
Melody hums in agreement.  “Quite right.  And this time I want to take you like this.”  She lifts herself up and settles down in his lap, feeling his already hardening erection press against her rear.  He chuckles darkly.
“In my time, people would call you a floozie,” he jokes, tucking his hands beneath her thighs and heaving her closer to him.  She wrinkles her nose at the word and huffs.
“Yeah?  Well these days it’s called being an empowered woman who knows what she wants,” Melody purrs, leaning forward and shuffling her hips against his.  She watches his reaction with a smirk, noting the shiver that spins down his spine and the way his fingers tense against her skin. 
Jasper tilts his head back and closes his eyes, swallowing tightly when she starts grinding down against him. 
“Never said there was anything wrong with that,” he mutters.  His hands slide up her body and he shivers again when Melody presses her bare chest against his.  She tangles her fingers into his wavy hair and crashes her mouth against his.  As always, he meets her half way, kissing her back with a vengeance as if he’s merely been waiting for her to act. 
It’s all fangs and tongue, brutal in a way that’s made purely of a particular brand of breathless desire.  It hangs above them as if it’s part of the spiraling weave of dimming sunlight that filters into the room and gets under their skin in the most wistfully intense manner.  She can hardly describe it, hardly understand – words were never her strong point, but she sinks into him anyway because sometimes, words aren’t necessary anyhow.
Jasper reads her like a book without a summary, skimming his hands up and down her body as he constantly takes in her silent waves of passion.  When he nips at her lower lip, Melody moans and clutches his hair tighter, grinding her hips down against his in payback.
He growls and the sound sends a flurry of instinctual need down her body.  He kisses her like he’s never wanted to kiss anyone quite so badly in his very long life, and she loves every second of his desperate fiery desire as he presses it into hers.  Moments like these, she barely remembers that he can do that – mold his emotions with hers, send her toppling over with the full brunt of his passion.  It feels so much like her own that the naturalness of it takes her breath away.  They’re two sides of the same coin; a mirror image of intense frenzy.
“Mm – that’s not fair, Jazz,” she groans as she feels her desire abruptly skyrocket in an almost fabricated way.  It’s not fabricated; it’s just not entirely hers.  Or at least it hadn’t been before she’d felt it.  Her body is suddenly on fire, aching all the way down to her toes.  The arousal that he’s sharing with her is a fluttery mess of desire and hungry need, and she suddenly can’t think of anything except pulling him inside her to sate the fast burning pulse of desire.
He has the gall to look innocently confused, but she can see the mischief behind his golden eyes even when he quite skillfully wonders, “What’s not fair?”
He smirks and spreads her ass, drifting his hand down the crevice to trace over her folds.  She’s dripping wet – undoubtedly a result of both her own natural desire for him (which is always there, lurking in the back of her mind), and his own particular talents making her body go haywire. 
He’s pulled this trick before and she doesn’t really mind.  She loves to feel what he feels; to know the full extent of his passion and what she does to him.  She just likes to have a little warning before he unleashes his emotive power on her.  Not that she’s going to complain, of course.  To be honest, all she wants to do right now is fuck him so hard he’ll see stars.  (And her, too, if she’s lucky.)
Melody moans and hovers close to his face, lips brushing over his as her expression tumbles into melted need.  He watches her closely as his fingers stroke her cunt.  When he flicks over the nub at the top of her clit, she feels a burst of powerful, curdling hunger and he smiles because he feels it too, drifting from her skin into his.
Sex with Jasper Hale is never boring, at least.
“Your emotions are all on fire,” he whispers, almost in wonderment despite the fact that they’ve danced with dance before and it shouldn’t surprise him so much.  But it always does, these feelings, her love for him coming forth in physical form.  It never fails to amaze him in the best possible way.
As he slides two fingers inside her, he breathes, “It’s like you’re burning.  Are those your emotions or mine?” 
The question hangs in the air for a moment as Melody groggily shifts through his words.  It’s a bit hard to pay attention when he’s thrusting his fingers inside her like that, rubbing against her inner walls and twisting a messy orgasm into existence at the back of her mind.  Somehow she manages to hear him though, and against his neck she moans, “Ours – mmm…they’re ours.”
And they’re spinning together in a cocktail of undecipherable lust. 
Jasper chuckles throatily and leans down to kiss her neck.  His sharp teeth drift over her skin and, when he sinks them gently into the crease of her shoulder, she keens and rocks her hips down, taking his fingers deeper inside her.  The move very nearly makes him lose his self control, which is already indulgently frayed from spending the afternoon between these sheets.
He’s never had very good control anyhow and Melody likes to see it break.  She wriggles her hips against his fingers again and moans louder – a drawn out sound that edges into his name, with a generous ‘fuck yes’ attached to the end.  It’s enough to leave Jasper feeling more than a little out of control, and this time he acts on it.
She’s flat on her back within seconds, and he’s filling her up before she can even orient herself to the sudden change in position.  She catches on quick though – it’s impossible not to when he’s thrusting into her with that reckless wanton need – and Melody arches into him with a hissing keen that sounds half delirious, half pleased.
“Fuck Jasper!” she groans, nails scratching their way down his back as he hovers over her.  His hands are hot against her hips and he drags them forcibly against him, bucking into her like it’s the only thing he knows how to do.  The way his hips piston into hers leaves her ragged and she drowns into the mattress with a sharp cry as he breaches her in all the right places.
He groans, coming down onto his elbows.  One hand remains poised at her hip as he shucks her forward, encouraging her to meet his thrusts.  She does, hips bucking frantically as she tries to take him as deeply as possible.  His teeth bear down to her neck again, scraping at the skin but not breaking it.  It sends thrills down her spine when she feels his fangs against her, and she looks down at the mass of dark blonde curls that her fingers are currently gripping. 
She throws her head back and exposes the graceful arch of her neck to him, thoroughly enjoying the way his lips immediately caress every inch of it.  When he licks her pulse point and murmurs, “That it, darlin’,” against her, Melody clenches down on him harder and he groans.
One other good thing about vampires: they’re really fast.  His hips move so quickly that Melody barely gets a break before he’s slamming into her once more.  His cock drags back, the tip remaining buried just inches inside her folds, and then he pounds forward with a force that, had she been a breakable human, would have left Melody with a broken pelvis.
But she’s not a fragile human; she’s a vampire capable of meeting Jasper halfway in the bedroom and today, she’s not about to ignore her own strength. 
She hooks her leg around him and flips him over on his backward thrust, pushing him so hard into the mattress that he lets out a surprise ‘omph!’ and rips the sheet he’d been gripping near her head.  His cock slides out of her but remains rigid as she slowly meanders over his form – too slowly, she knows as his eyes flashes dangerous up at her from the halo of his curls.  He growls.  She just raises an eyebrow and crawls into his lap.
“Couldn’t keep up?” he snarks in a rare display of sarcasm.  Melody purrs at the sight of him and doesn’t complain when he grabs her hips and shucks her against his length.  She wants him inside of her again, and she’d be blind and stupid not to see how badly he wants to sink into her too – but she wants to do it her way this time.  A little bedroom dominance never hurt anyone.
“Let’s see if you can keep up,” she murmurs, eyes narrowing into a maelstrom of desire and danger.  He smirks and watches her line his cock up and sink down on him.  The feel of her tight heat surrounding him is exquisite and he immediately tries to buck up and push his length further inside her.  But Melody only hums and lifts her hips to stop his rebellious move.  He scowls at her.
“I’m not in the mood for teasing, Mel,” he growls, gripping her hips with a force that should have left dark bruises on her skin.  It’s a good thing she’s resilient.  He looks perfectly dangerous and seconds away from rolling her over and fucking her like he’d done before, so she gives in.
She rocks down on his cock and takes all of him in one sudden thrust, leaving him groaning deeply and squeezing her hips harder.  Barely a moment passes before she’s thrusting back, dragging him out of her and then – forward again, until he’s hilted balls deep and Melody is setting a pace just as furious as his.
She wonders if they look like rutting wild animals.  That’s what she feels like as she throws herself against him, hands on his chest for leverage, and bucks her hips relentless against his.  Beneath her, Jasper’s expression is tight and loose at the same time – a perfect clash of warring emotions that always means he’s trying to hold back his orgasm.  She loves that expression.  Loves the fact that he’s trying to hold out for her.  But what she really loves?  When he comes without meaning to and she gets to watch every single desire pass over his face as she drags his finish out for him.
She leans down and bites at his chest, trailing her mouth over the scars that litter his skin.  It’s an intimate area for him – both emotionally and physically – and he groans and cups her head when she nips gently at the pale marks.  Then, tearing her mouth to his neck and biting at his jaw, she growls, “Come on, Jazz…fuck me harder…mmm, that’s right…”
He bucks hard upward and she moans.  There’s a tight look in his eyes when he catches hers.  He knows exactly what she’s trying to do, talking like that, and his eyes narrow.  When he keeps bucking hard against her, Melody’s not entirely sure if he’s trying to make her pay for trying to push his orgasm faster, or if it’s because he genuinely can’t help himself.
Naturally she needs to find out.  Her curiosity is ravenous.
She threads her hands into his hair and pulls it, watching his eyes flutter and feeling his fingers fluctuate against her hips.  With a moan that makes him shiver, she breathes, “Feels so good inside me…fuck, that’s good – Jasper – “
He suddenly thunders upright into a sitting position and growls, “Good girls shouldn’t say such dirty things, darlin’.”  He scoops one arm around her hips and reaches up to clutch at her breast before ducking his head down to suck at it.  He lets her keep the pace though, and she doesn’t disappoint as she rocks her hips in time with his.
Melody groans and bites his ear, “I don’t want to be a good girl; it just want you to come inside me and fill me up.” 
The groan he lets out when he hears her is so enticing that she feels her own orgasm lick at the edges of her vision.  The uncontrollable way Jasper suddenly twists them around and pushes her into the edge of the mattress should be warning enough for his orgasm.  Her loud moan as he bucks into her warns him too.  His final thrusts are so powerful and deep that he actually shifts the bed several inches before coming with a growl, fisting the sheets near her hips so hard that he can feel the threads break.
“Fuck,” Melody moans when he finally stills, her face buried against his neck.  After a moment, Jasper gives a long exhale and shifts her into his arms, laying her onto the mattress before following her down.  The sunlight has dimmed and they lie together in a pool of it for a few minutes before Melody turns and catches his eye.
“Well,” she grins, looking perfectly satiated and very pleased.  Jasper laughs at the sight and rests his arms behind his head and a boyish smile.
“Well,” he responds, as if they haven’t just had the best sex she can remember and left the bed in tatters.
“We’ll probably have to pay for this,” she murmurs, feeling several of the holes in the sheets before turning to Jasper with a purring smirk.  He watches her carefully, looking like a chiseled God stretched out like that, all his perfect skin on display.  He wears nudity very well, she notes, and slides a hand down his chest.
“…Sometimes I think you have a stronger sex drive than I do,” he mutters, but ultimately doesn’t stop her as she wraps her fingers around his cock and starts pumping it in her hands.  He feels himself harden in her grasp and hums when he watches her sit up and kiss his hip.  So she wants to play it this way?
Melody gives him a mischievous smirk and responds, “Today’s our last day.  We have to make the most of it.”
Jasper only groans as he feels her mouth slide down his length.  He suddenly doesn’t have the words to answer her.  He doubts very much that she minds.
Third good thing about being a vampire: they don’t have to sleep.  As late afternoon turns to evening and then night, they continue to make love and let time skip along without them.

~~~

Friday, September 23, 2016

A Pietro Maximoff Lemon -- Red Ravine

Character: Pietro Maximoff

Fandom: The Avengers

OC: Charlotte, quiet, bit of a bookworm

Inspiration: I couldn’t resist writing one for Pietro. ;) Enjoy!


Charlotte loves Autumn.  She loves watching the trees changes color from her window and curling up with a blanket and a good book.  She loves taking walks outside the Avengers Tower where she works and have the chilly breeze take her breath away.  Autumn is her favorite season.  But that doesn’t necessarily mean that she wants to be out in said chilly weather all the time.
She doesn’t know why she agreed to this.
(Well actually she does, but she doesn’t want to admit that her interest in Pietro Maximoff goes beyond the mandatory crush.)
“Look!” he says with a grin, gesturing at one of the wooden signs that have been staked into the trail.  “We’re almost at the top.”
He turns back to her to share his excitement and she tries to smile back, but the way Pietro’s eyebrow jaunts up, she knows she doesn’t fool him.  He chuckles.
“You know you didn’t have to come,” he tells her, uncapping a water bottle and handing it over.  She wrinkles her nose at him but takes it nonetheless, not about to refuse when her throat is parched and her heart rate is elevated from the exercise.
For someone who spends the majority of her day in the lab doing research for Tony’s latest ideas, she doesn’t get out much.  She leaves the tough workouts to the people who can actually handle them.
“I know, but you had such a pitiful look on your face when you asked me,” Charlotte mumbles, taking a swig of the water.  Pietro snorts and crosses his arms.  She immediately blushes and hurries to add, “Plus I wanted to!  Really.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
“You said you liked hiking,” he reminds her as she hands the bottle back to him.  He puts it in the backpack he’s wearing, which is empty save for food and water.  She’s glad he’s not hauling around a tent or something – the idea of spending the night with him intrigues her, but she’s sure she’d embarrass herself in some colossal way before morning and he’d never ask her to do something like this again.
Charlotte glances up at him and tentatively says, “…I didn’t realize you wanted to climb a literal mountain.”
He laughs and pats her on the shoulder.  “What’s that American phrase Wilson’s always saying?  Go big or go home?”
She snorts at the way his accent drips over the phrase and rubs her forehead.  Sam Wilson would say something like that.  He’s as obsessed with working out as the rest of them.
Pietro shrugs and turns back to the trail.  Over his shoulder, he calls, “Besides, it’s not like you have to hike back down.  I’ll just run us to the bottom.” 
Charlotte stares at his back with a hesitant expression that he can’t see because he’s looking ahead at where the trail bends around a large boulder.  She turns his words around in her head with some chagrin and feels herself blush again.  Running them back down the mountain would save hours of time, but it would also mean that he’d have to hold her.  The sense of giddy fear that bubbles to the surface of her emotions makes her pause long enough for Pietro to notice.
“Coming?” he asks, tilting his head at her like a cat.
He’s nothing like a cat though, not really.  He’s more like a Labrador, always on the move to the next best thing, leaving behind anything that’s too slow for his liking.  She doesn’t want to be left behind, so Charlotte trudges forward earnestly, her mind set on what it will feel like to have his arms around her as the world rushes her by.
It’s as much incentive as any to reach their destination, and by the time they walk out onto the mountaintop, Charlotte is happy she’d accepted to his invitation. 
To call it a mountain is really an exaggeration, but it certainly does look impressive as she joins him near the manmade platform at the top.  They look down at the vivid display of oranges and golds and reds.  It’s like an ocean of fire that seems to stretch on forever. 
There’s no one else here despite this being a New York public park, and it lends to the tender atmosphere Charlotte can feel building up between them.  Pietro, for once, is completely still and seems somewhat awed by the view. 
She’s tempted to say something, anything to break the silence.  But it’s not an uncomfortable one and so she just lets it linger, turning her attention outward and wondering why she’s never done something like this before.
When Pietro had asked her to go with him, she’d been in the middle of the lab with her nose practically attached to her laptop screen.  Her desk had been strewn with papers and she’d been scribbling messily in one of her many journals, working out the kinks of Tony’s most recent invention.  The genius could’ve done all that himself, of course, but he’s been busy doing other things.  Like saving the world and trying to appease an every-annoyed fiancĂ©e each time he accidentally breaks the law in the name of justice.  (I.e. more frequently than the PR division lets the public believe.)
She hadn’t expected Pietro to waltz into the lab and ask her what she was up to.  Hadn’t expected him to randomly ask, “You like Autumn, right?”
She hadn’t expected him to invite her along on this hike, but when he’d told her that no one else wanted to go with him…
She’s a sucker for the underdog.  (And besides, it’s Pietro.  Pietro who she’s had an enormous crush on since the first time she saw him all those months before, in the middle of happily aggravating Tony when he’d ran into her and sent her huge stack of paperwork flying in every direction.)
Charlotte doesn’t know how he’d remembered that she likes Autumn or that she enjoys being outside during this season.  He must’ve been paying more attention than she’s used to people paying to her – especially ridiculously attractive men who coincidentally have super powers beyond the ordinary.
When she feels him start fidgeting beside her, Charlotte laughs and glances at him.
“Finished taking in the view?” she wonders, knowing full well how narrow his range of attention can be when he’s bored.
He raises an eyebrow and glances down at her in an almost callous way, eyes ducking from her face to her legs.  Then he says with a smirk, “Just getting started.”
She gapes at him.  Did he just check her out in a ridiculously obvious way and then hit on her?  Her normal response would be to blush and step away, but it’s Pietro and the normal rules don’t apply.  Instead she gives a surprised laugh because for some reason it’s suddenly hilarious and shakes her head at him.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she mumbles, turning back to the sea of orange that tumbles down the mountainside.
Pietro grunts and gives a shrug.  He’s standing closer than she’d thought, because his shoulder brushes hers.
“What, you didn’t see that coming?” he innocently asks.  She rolls her eyes at the use of his favorite catchphrase and he chuckles.
A gentle breeze blows over the mountain and Charlotte shifts, suddenly unsure as she remembers his altogether random invitation for today’s excursion.  It had been so unexpected that she is still reeling from it…as well as wondering if she really is just the ‘back-up’ friend that he’d asked only because no one else would go with him.  She’s been there before and it’s not a nice realization, especially when the person in question happens to be a long time crush.
“Why did you ask me to go on this hike with you?” she asks, feeling a startlingly potent need to know the truth.  It’s been bugging her for a while now, ever since the initial excitement had started to dull down.
Pietro doesn’t seem to expect the question though.  When he looks at her, there is surprise in his gaze.  He clearly hadn’t seen that coming.
After a pause, Pietro furrows his eyebrows and says, “Because I wanted to.”
It’s such a classic male response that Charlotte gives him a look.  He laughs and adds, “Do I need a reason to hang out with you?”
Suddenly knowing how silly she’s being, Charlotte shakes her head.  “No, of course not.  It’s just that we don’t normally…hang out.”
He tilts his head and looks at her as if she’s a wildly complicated problem that he can’t puzzle out.
“All the more reason,” he shrugs, then grins down at her.  “Besides, I thought it’d be a good date idea.”
Charlotte, who had turned back to the spectacular view, makes a shocked choking noise at the words.  She swings her head toward him to look at his amused face and blurts, “What?”
It’s his turn to give her a look, but there’s some surprise lingering behind his words as he says, “Wait, you didn’t know this was a date?”
She stares in incredulous silence and Pietro laughs.
“But you’re wearing nice clothes.  You put make-up on.  And you’ve been staring at my ass the entire time we were hiking,” he adds with a mischievous smirk.
Her face immediately turns a bright red.  Is she really that transparent?  She opens her mouth, then shuts it again.  With an air of complete denial, Charlotte insists, “I always wear nice clothes and I was not checking you out the entire time.”
He chuckles like he doesn’t believe her.
“But you were checking me out for part of the time.”
Charlotte groans and mutters, “I can’t be held responsible for that.”  Seriously.  Pietro has a really great ass.  It would be a sin not to look.
She tentatively glances up at him, blushing hard.  He’s got that look in his eyes that make her wary.  It’s the look he gets whenever he’s about to do something that will totally shock her.
With a hum, Pietro shuffles closer, resting his hand on the railing that overlooks the orange ravine they’re standing in front of.  “I guess Tony was right.  You are a little oblivious.”
Charlotte scowls up at him, heart hammering as he shuffles even closer.  Her initial reaction is to take a step back and it’s very hard not to.  Pietro makes her want to turn and run whilst simultaneously throw her arms around him.  It’s a little conflicting, to be honest.
“I am not,” she tells him with a frown.
He makes a face.  “Are too.”
“Not I’m – “
“Cause if you weren’t oblivious, you’d know that when I asked you to come with me today, I was asking you out on a date,” he interrupts with a smirk, and she falls quiet.
Okay, maybe she’s a little oblivious.  Just a little.  That doesn’t mean she’s going to admit it though.
“How was I supposed to know that?  You flirt with everyone – “
Her words fall immediately silent when Pietro zeros in on her, pushing her against the railing as he shuffles into her personal space.  Their thighs are touching, denim on denim, and both his arms are caging her in.  He has her cornered in the most delicious way.
“I do not flirt with everyone,” he insists, falling easily back into their previously childish banter.
Charlotte raises an eyebrow.  “You do too.”
“I only seriously flirt with you,” he tells her, and she falls silent again for a different reason.  Hope flares up inside her. 
In an unusual moment of courage, Charlotte murmurs, “I only seriously flirt with you, too.”
He smiles as if it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him.  Though it doesn’t stop him from snarking, “You never flirt anyway.”
She’s about to tell him that she does too flirt, but Pietro cuts her off again.  This time, with his mouth.
He kisses her so quickly that she loses her breath from surprise, rather than satisfaction.  When he pulls away, Pietro smirks at her red cheeks and leans in again, but this time she’s ready for him.  As his lips press against hers once more, Charlotte raises her hands to grasp his neck and hold him in place.
She decides that this is much better than having a circular argument that will get them nowhere, and when she kisses him back, Pietro proves her point.  His lips move against hers like he’s been thinking of kissing her for months – maybe he has, and Charlotte really is as oblivious as he claims.  At this point she doesn’t care.
All she cares about is the way her heart is fluttering and the way he’s moving his hands to hold her and the fact that she’s actually kissing Pietro Maximoff.
He groans against her mouth and takes it deeper, sucking at her bottom lip and tracing his tongue over it.  The exchange of heat makes her cling to him, gripping his broad shoulders tightly and careening against his body with a boldness she never knew she had. 
Her unusual courage is going to extremes today.
“Pietro…” she murmurs, sighing out as he slowly releases her lip from between his.  When her eyes flutter open, she sees that he’s already looking at her.  His usually sharp blue eyes are silvery in the late afternoon light, and they’re filled with an emotion she can’t quite place.  They’re soft in a way she’s never seen them, gentle and almost caressing.  They’re as beautiful as the rest of him.
“Say it again,” he whispers.  His lips brush hers very lightly, like a butterfly’s wings.  A shiver rocks through her.
“Pietro,” she says, firmer this time but with the same shaky desire.  He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to hers, breathing out slowly.
“I don’t want to leave yet,” he admits, chuckling a little as if he’s wondering what’s wrong with him.  She joins in quietly, lifting her fingers to brush them over his cheek and down the stubble of his jaw.  When her thumb traces the edge of his mouth, he opens his eyes to look at her.  Her breath catches in her throat at the passion that creases through them.
She doesn’t know what makes her say it.  Well, maybe she does know.  Maybe she’s never known anything as absolutely as she knows this.  Maybe she doesn’t want her courage to end before she takes full advantage of it.
When she murmurs, “…Then stay,” she’s not fully sure of what she’s asking but has a pretty good idea.  She knows, at least, that she isn’t finished kissing him.
A smirk splits his face.  He looks extremely sure of himself all of the sudden, as if she’s just given him permission to do whatever he wants.  Such an expression would normally make her feel wary, even afraid.  But coming from Pietro, all she feels is unbound excitement and the desire to take this, whatever this is, to a level all its own.
She doesn’t expect him to tighten his arms around her and lift her up.  Doesn’t expect him to pull her against his chest and for the world to become and uncalculated blur around her.  But when she’s suddenly being pushed against a tree, legs tight around his waist, her heart is giddy with more than just excitement.
The world slows back down and she stares at him for about two seconds before Pietro is rushing forward and kissing her again, and this time his kiss makes her moan.
“This…mmm…wasn’t exactly what I meant,” she says, voice muffled because she’s kissing him back just as eagerly.  Her fingers thread into his hair, thighs tightening around his waist as his hands drift up her hips. 
She is not the type of girl to hook up with guys in the middle of the forest, but today has been a day of change.  Change is healthy, right?  She can’t currently think of a reason for it not to be.
Pietro grins against her mouth and squeezes her leg playfully.  “Just tell me to stop and I will,” he says, drawing back for a fraction of a second to look at her.
There’s a touch of seriousness coloring his eyes and she knows he means it.  He probably expects her to take him up on it too, because he doesn’t lean back in to continue kissing her.
She has the reputation of being the good girl.  She always has and probably always will.  There’s just this innate sense of goodness about her that she can never seem to shake no matter what trouble she gets into.  Granted, she’s never really gotten into trouble to begin with, but…well, Pietro is considered to be a bit of a troublemaker, and she finds herself astoundingly curious about how it feels to break the rules.
So instead of drawing back and telling him to stop, Charlotte just purses her mouth and murmurs, “How about I tell you to kiss me again?”
His grin widens.  With a chuckle, Pietro shrugs.  His nose brushes against her jaw.  She can feel the heat of his breath on her neck when he whispers, “I think I can do that.”
They’re both grinning giddily when he presses his mouth to hers once more, but it isn’t long before they lose the smiles.  Smiling and kissing is a bit difficult when one is overcome by other, darker desires.  And the desire that suddenly shoots through Charlotte is much more potent than any she’s ever felt.  She can’t possibly stop herself – the way he pushes his hips against hers is addicting in more ways than one.  Especially when she feels the edge of something hard grinding against her as he pulls her hips close to his.
She gasps and moans, wriggling her hips against him in a rare, bold move.  Her cheeks are on fire with embarrassment but the passion that’s caught up to her makes it seem dulled down.  She doesn’t usually give into these desires, but with him, all bets are off.
He makes a pleased noise and pushes her further against the tree.  His hips pin her down in one firm move and she gasps again.  When his tongue darts out to trace her bottom lip, Charlotte doesn’t even hesitate as she opens her mouth for him.  Then their tongues are meeting, rubbing together as his hands drag over her waist and beneath her shirt.
The little circles he rubs into the skin of her hips is addicting and she arches into him, kissing harder as if she’s silently telling him she wants more.  The feeling is clearly reciprocated as he starts to slowly grind his clothed erection against her core.  That’s about the time where she decides that being taken in the middle of the woods is the best idea ever.
“Mm…I guess they’re right,” he suddenly murmurs with a boyish grin, pulling back from the kiss.  He presses his lips against her jaw and, as he mouths her neck, he whispers, “The quiet ones are always the best.”
Charlotte laughs, then groans when she feels his hands slide up her stomach.  His eyebrows raise up when he feels the cloth bralette she’s wearing.  He experimentally covers her breasts with his hands and squeezes her, enjoying the thin material and the way he can so easily feel her taut nipples through it.
“Is this lace?” he wonders, running his thumbs over her nipples and watching her eyelids flutter in response.  He smirks at her reaction to his touch and nips at her jaw.
Charlotte moans, “Mmm…”  He’s not entirely sure if it’s a groan of pleasure or of agreement, so he naturally decides to find out for sure.
He starts unbuttoning the plaid shirt she’s wearing with one hand, keeping his other firmly cupping her breast.  When he rolls her nipple through the bra, Charlotte inhales sharply and tilts her head back, watching him through half lidded eyes.  He’s got fast fingers, and her shirt is being pushed aside within seconds, revealing the dusty pink lace to his hungry eyes.
Pietro groans at the sight and immediately darts down to kiss her breast through the material.  She tangles her fingers into his hair and is suddenly grateful that she decided to wear this instead of the sports bra she’d briefly considered.  She never liked sports bras, and besides, her breasts are on the petit side so she figured it wouldn’t matter what she wore.  Pietro definitely seems to like it too, which is always a plus.
Also, he seems enamored with the lacy frills of it. 
She’s never had sensitive breasts and never fully understood the male fascination with this particular part of the female anatomy, but dear Lord she likes what he’s doing to her right now.  Squeezing her, twisting her nipples in his fingers, licking over them through the cloth – and he hasn’t even taken the thing off yet.  She’s already wet from his ministrations and knows right then and there that she’s done for.
He slides the tiny strap down her shoulder and kisses her chest, right above the lace.  Against her skin he groans, “You’re not wearing matching underwear, are you?”
The question makes her raise an eyebrow at look down at him.  His eyes are strangely pleading.  She’s not sure if he wants her to or not, so when she slowly nods, Pietro’s response takes her a little off guard.
“Mmm.  You’re making me insane and you’re still wearing all your clothes,” he mutters with a chuckle, and presses a kiss to her shoulder.
Charlotte laughs again and wriggles into him, feeling the full extent of his self-declared ‘insanity’.  He’s harder than before and she really wants to get rid of those jeans and see him properly.
Apparently he’s on the same wavelength, or at least a similar one, because Pietro suddenly slips the straps of her bralette down her arms and peels the fabric away from her breasts without warning.  Charlotte has long decided that she doesn’t need him to warn her, not when she wants to jump his bones right about now, but the abrupt chill of the air on her breasts makes her inhale sharply.  Luckily Pietro has a fix for that.
His mouth comes down on her breast within moments of him shuffling the bra down her stomach.  He doesn’t take it off – probably doesn’t have the patience to – and so it falls down her waist instead of on the forest floor.  She doesn’t really care where it goes, just as long as he keeps doing that thing with his mouth –
“Pietro,” she moans, arching into him and pushing her breasts further into his grasp.  His tongue is trailing around her nipple, sending shivers racing through her as he feels her properly.  The warmth of his breath and his hand and his kisses make her feel like she’s melting and she shakes her hips down against his erection again, feeling a shot of pleasure invade her entire body.
He feels it too because he groans and nips at her breast before pulling back and tugging his shirt off.  The arch of his body sends his hips more firmly into hers and Charlotte moans, partly because of that, but mostly because of the sight he makes with his upper body bared.
He has a runner’s body, all finely tuned muscles and firm abs.  She immediately draws her hands down his chest with a sigh and leans in to kiss it, feeling strangely emboldened.  When her fingers lower to trace the line of his jeans, Pietro grits his teeth and releases a rattled breath.  He doesn’t go to stop her though, and she unbuttons the top of them without an issue.
It’s when she’s pulling the zipper down over the tented hardness beneath the fabric that Pietro stops her, but only to twist her out of his arms to better remove their remaining clothes.  His movements are so fast that Charlotte can barely follow him – one moment, she’s standing there half dressed with her shirt still hanging off her frame, the next, the shirt is falling to the ground and he’s shoving her jeans down her hips. 
She would have laughed at the sensation of being very suddenly naked if she didn’t have more interesting things to focus on.  Like the fact that Pietro is kneeling in front of her and pressing a heated kiss against her thigh.  
He guides one leg over his shoulder and throatily says, “I need to taste you.  Will you let me?”  He looks up to her for permission, and she’s a little bit surprised that he even asked.  The way his eyes glint hungrily gives her the impression that the pause takes something of a toll on him.  So she wastes no time in nodding and pulling his head closer to her aching core.
“Please,” she whispers, and he all but growls at the sweet word.
His tongue is licking over the thin fabric of her matching lace panties before she can even ground herself.  She moans and leans back against the tree trunk, hitching her leg further over his shoulder and holding his head tightly between her hands.  Pietro grasps her firmly, thumbing circles into her hips as he licks at her.  It’s not enough though – the feeling is dulled down because she’s still wearing her panties and she needs more.
“Pietro, please,” she moans, shifting one hand to the hem of her underwear and starting to tug it down.  He grabs the hand tightly and swats it away, looking up at her with a teasing, mischievous expression.
Then, just when she thinks he’s not going to touch her properly, the way she needs him to, he hooks one finger around the fabric and moves it to the side, giving one long lick against her folds.  She nearly cries out at the abrupt touch and would have slid right down to the ground had he not been holding her up.
Shaking her hips into his mouth, she moans, “Mmm!  Pietro!”
He groans and murmurs, “Keep saying my name.  Just like that, that’s right…”  He slips a finger inside her and watches her carefully as he sucks at the nub on top of her clit.  The way she immediately keens and arches into him is enough of an indication that she likes what he’s doing.  So he keeps doing it.
He adds another finger and starts thrusting them in and out of her.  He can’t wait to get his cock out but – he needs to be patient.  He wants to make her come like this.  He wants to watch her expression melt and see her buck against his mouth and beg for it.  And he doesn’t have to wait very long.
A burst of masculine pride shoots through him when Charlotte moans his name and rocks forward, shuffling into a sloppy thrust.  He gently bites at her folds, dragging her into his mouth and sucking at her, lapping his tongue along her clit and twisting his fingers inside her as he brings her to her orgasm.  What a sight it is – all breathless moans that sounds like his name, spun together like sugar as she shakes into her tree and his mouth.
It’s beautiful and he keeps at it until she stops bucking into him.  Only then does he pull away, stands up, and finish unzipping his jeans.  He’s rock hard and desperately needs to be inside her, especially after the sight he just witnessed, just created.
“Come here,” he murmurs, kissing her gently as he kicks his boxers away.  Charlotte opens her eyes and looks down at him.  There’s something heated and lustful in her gaze that makes his shiver.  When she reaches down to take his hard cock into her hand, Pietro groans and clenches her waist tightly.
“Did I taste good?” she whispers, brushing her thumb over his tip.  He swallows and chuckles deeply.  It sounds like the low rumble of a storm and she’d love to be in the center of it, so she leans back against the tree and opens her arms out for him.  He brings her close.
“Better than I imagined,” he growls, and lifts her up abruptly, barely giving her any time before sinking his cock inside her and pushing her into the tree.
She moans and holds him tightly, gasping and breathless as his thrusts shake her down.  He waits only a moment for her to adjust before setting an immediately fast pace that makes her more and more crazy with every passing second. 
He fills her so perfectly, hitting places she didn’t know existed.  Perhaps it’s the angle of his thrusts, the haphazard position they’re in against the tree, but she’s never known sex to be quite so gratifying.  Maybe it’s just because it’s Pietro and she’s never been as attracted to anyone before him. 
She tugs at his hair, buried her face into his shoulder and tries to keep her moans muffled.  They’re not that far away from the mountaintop platform and she doesn’t want to draw attention from the odd hiker.  They can’t stop now, not when she’s this aroused and he’s thrusting into her so perfectly.
“Say my name again,” he grunts into her neck, groaning at the tight way she clenches over his cock.  It feels so good, so wet and hot and tight that he can’t help but go faster, bucking his hips into hers with reckless abandon.  He needs release.  He needs to feel her orgasm around him.  He’s never wanted anything so badly.
Charlotte moans and murmurs his name, getting louder and louder with every thrust as he hits her perfectly each time.  When he realizes what he’s doing, he angles his hips and does it again, thrusting his cock into her and feeling her inner walls spasm around him. 
Her orgasm tilts her over somewhere between, ‘Pietro’ and ‘fuck yes!’, and she starts bucking furiously against him as she comes.  Pietro groans at the feeling of her clenching around him and pushes her harder into the tree, his hips moving so quickly that it almost feels like a piston firing against her, again and again until her throat feels raw from the moaning.
She can’t remember ever coming so hard before, but it’s like the world itself turns into a beautiful blur of sightless color as she feels her finish rock through her.  And Pietro, the way he groans against her neck and gives several hard thrusts as he fills her up…it makes her want to do it all over again.
He keeps thrusting, dragging out both of their orgasms, until her muscles have stopped clenching around his length and he’s flaccid inside her.  Then he wraps his arms around her and sighs, long and drawn out and happy.  Charlotte kisses his temple and chuckles.
“I’m not usually a ‘sex-on-the-first-date’ kind of girl, you know,” she tells him, wanting to get it straight and not have him think less of her.  At this point, though, Pietro doubts very much that such a thing is possible.  Especially not when he feels so satisfied.
“Mmm…especially since you hadn’t realized this was a date to begin with,” he can’t help but add, laughing.  Charlotte joins in because he’s right, and maybe she is a little oblivious.  But the be honest she doesn’t have it in her to care about all that right now, so long as they can get off this mountain as soon as possible.  There’s quite a few other things she’d rather be doing right about now, preferably with him.
He pulls back as if reading her thoughts and gives her a boyish smile before stepping away.  Her feet find the ground and they go about shucking their clothes back on, occasionally assisting each other and leaving heated touches in their wake.  Charlotte has the distinct feeling that this is far from over.
She’s right.  When he runs them back down the mountain in about five minutes flat and they make their way back to the base, he doesn’t just walk her to her room and leave her there.  No, instead he invites himself into her suite, locks the door behind him, and proceeds to show her everything she’s been missing for the past few months, all in the space of several glorious hours.
She’s very happy she agreed to go on that hike with him.

~~~

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

A Lavi Lemon -- Ensnared (With You)

Character: Lavi

Fandom: D. Gray-Man

OC: [Name]

Inspiration: Here’s some Lavi smut for you guys.  I’m slowly cycling through all the requests, so be patient with me please.  In a perfect world I would inhale coffee instead of oxygen and spend all my time writing but.  It’s not a perfect world and unfortunately we need oxygen to survive.  Tragedy.


Before this moment, you’ve never considered the multiple uses of silk scarves.  Lavi has a lot of ideas though, and they’re usually pretty great.  You’re just not entirely sure if this one fits into that particular category.
“…It’s comfortable, at least,” you mutter, watching him lean over you as he knots the scarf around your wrist.  He flashes you a grin and checks the knot to make sure it’s tight enough.
“Sure is,” he responds, dropping down to kiss your wrist before unraveling another silk scarf.  “And it’s pretty hot, too.”
You roll your eyes, but some part of you can’t deny that he’s right.  It is kind of hot.  You’ve never been tied to a bed before, so it’s also very novel.
“How’s that?” he asks, tugging on the knot that he’s just tied around your other wrist.  You twist your face up and shift experimentally.  They aren’t budging.
“It’s fine,” you say, and you’re surprised to find that you actually mean it.  If anyone else were to suggest something like this, you would not be so comfortable.  But Lavi has this amazing (and sometimes infuriating) way of making everything perfect.  Even something like bondage seems light and fresh when he’s the one tying you up.
He leans back and looks down at you with a critical eye, as if he’s checking his work.  It’s almost amusing, really, the way his fingers flutter over your body and tug at the knots and at your clothes.  He shifts them aside – it’s easy cause they’re already loosened and undone – and smirks at you.  Yes, it would’ve been amusing, except all you feel right now is the dull ache of arousal, which you’ve been pushing aside for as long as you could manage.  You don’t want to appear too overeager.
“Mmm…you look great,” he tells you, brushing his fingers beneath the cups of your bra.  His calloused fingertips seem to burn you, washing your skin with a heat that extends far beyond his touch.  You peer up into his eyes, and the lighthearted desire that touches their edges make you smirk.
“Do I?” you wonder, twisting a little as you test the strength of the bonds.  You noticed the way his eyes flashed at you when you did it before and you’ve got a feeling he likes the sight of you writhing around. 
Lavi’s hands drop down your body, skimming over the edge of your panties and up the tops of your thighs.  He presses a kiss to you bent knee and lifts your leg into the air, uncurling it and resting your limb on his shoulder.  When he turns his head to kiss your ankle, you sigh.
“Should I tie up your legs, too?” he murmurs, spearing you with a heated look that sends shivers roiling up and down your spine.
You wrap your other leg around his waist and pout.  “I want to be able to hold you like this, at least,” you say, and use the momentum of your body to arch into his groin.  The hard feeling of his clothed erection makes you bite your lip as arousal shoots through you. 
He laughs, but it’s a shaky sort of sound, dredged up from the dark recesses of his passion.  His eyes flutter closed as you grind down against him and he squeezes your ankle as if trying to reign in his self control.  He has quite a lot of it, but you tend to make him feel like a kid just discovering sex for the first time.  It might concern him if it isn’t so thrilling.
“I guess I can’t argue with that,” he mutters, still overcome by the raw desire that thunders through him as you continue to bear down on him.  The thought of tying you up complete is certainly intriguing though.  He might have to keep a few of his scarves by the bed in the future.
His scarves are the main reason you’re in your current situation.  You have (in his opinion) a rather endearing habit of buying them for him whenever you go out on missions.  He likes your gifts, but you’ve noticed how he rarely ever wears them around his neck.  You always see him in his favorite green scarf and you cornered him about it just a little while ago, asking if he even likes the other ones you’ve bought and if you should stop wasting money on things he’ll never use. 
So he’d decided to show you just how useful a collection of silk scarves can be.  You’re not upset now, at any rate.
Hovering above you with a growing smirk, Lavi leans forward.  His hands move to either side of your head and he sinks down, rocking his hips into yours and watching the way your eyes flutter just so.  There is a strange, intense gentleness of the air that’s hard to describe but beautiful to witness, and when he kisses you it goes straight to your heart.
“Mmm…” you sigh, kissing him back eagerly.  In your eagerness, you’re a little bit sloppy, but Lavi doesn’t seem to mind.  He chuckles against your mouth and darts his tongue out to taste you, rocking his hips incessantly against yours.  You’re both still wearing underwear but the feeling of his arousal pressing against your heat is still ridiculously arousing.
It’s strange, not being able to lift your hand and bury it into his hair.  You try to, forgetting that you’re tied down and unable to move your arms.  When you don’t budge from your position you whimper in aggravation, wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into. 
Lavi just smirks at the sound and murmurs, “What’s wrong, you don’t like the submissive position?”  He gives a low laugh and nips at your bottom lip as if driving the point home.
As he starts pressing kisses down your body, you squirm against the restraints and him, panting, “I don’t know yet.  I just wish I could touch you properly.”
It’s such an honest answer that Lavi groans against your neck.  He loves that about you – the way you’re so frank when it comes to things like this.  And everything else, too, but especially sex.  You’re unafraid to say what’s on your mind.
He nips at your collarbone and whispers, “Maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll give you a reward.”  The smile he sends you then is really more like a smirk in disguise and you frown at him. 
“I’m not a dog,” you mutter, wrapping both legs around his waist and pouting up at the ceiling.  You don’t pout for very long though.
Lavi’s fingers are brushing over your bra, hooking into the cups and dragging them down below your breasts.  Your nipples are already taut and sensitive, so when his lips come down to suck at one, you can’t possibly stop the whimper from darting into existence.
He’s really good with his hands, you’ll give him that.  Especially when you realize where his other one is going.
“Lavi – oh!” you gasp, and immediately roll your hips against the hand that’s suddenly between the apex of your thighs, rubbing you through your panties as his mouth continues his assault on your breast.
“Like that?” he wonders almost casually, and abandons your nipple for just a moment to send you a leering grin.  He’s back before you can respond, switching to your other breast and giving it an almost harsh suck that has your toes curling…or is your reaction due to the way his fingers are bypassing the thin fabric of your panties and touching you properly?  You don’t even know anymore.
“Lavi,” you moan, body twisting indulgently on the mattress.  His fingers are wicked as they stroke your heat and slowly push inside you.  “More…give me another…” you tell him in a shaky voice.  He chuckles and thumbs over the top of your clit, watching you moan and shiver with heady eyes.
“So demanding,” he tsks, but doesn’t tease you too much.  He adds another finger inside you and starts pumping them in and out of your cunt.  You’re so wet already and it makes him slightly crazy, but not enough to go too fast.  He wants to enjoy unraveling you.
You open your mouth to answer him but your breath is taken away when he nips at your breast and simultaneously curls his fingers inside your core.  The keen you give is enough to make his cock twitch in excitement.  He rubs your inner walls until he finds your G-spot, and at that point you’re a total mess as you sink into the mattress with a drawn out moan.
“You wanna come?” Lavi purrs, licking your nipple with a smirk.  His eyes are mischief exemplified and he wears it well. 
“Y-y-yes!” you pant, tilting your hips up frantically.  You’re so close already from that little move of his that you know it won’t take long…but Lavi seems to be in a patient mood tonight.  He draws his fingers out of you a moment later and chuckles at the way you immediately glare at him.
“Lavi, you – fuck, what are – oh God!” you moan as he crawls down your body and starts licking at your dripping cunt without preamble.  If either of you is a dog, it’s him, because he’s practically lapping at you as if you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“Mmmm…” he moans against your folds.  The vibration of his voice is subtle but still enough where you feel it buzzing over you, and you gasp sharply as his fingers join the fray once more.  Before long, he’s pumping two digits into you and spinning his tongue over every inch of your slit. 
Your orgasm thunders through you without warning and you clamp down on your bottom lip, head thrown back as you tug on the restraints.  It’s an exquisite sight, Lavi thinks as he watches from between your legs.  He coaxes your orgasm from you tenaciously, even when your cunt stops spasming around his fingers and you sink down bonelessly.  He wants to see if he can make you come twice in one go.  He likes a challenge.
So he doesn’t stop, just keeps licking and pumping.  The only difference is that now he’s going faster, sucking harder, rubbing at your G-spot more frantically.  And you react so beautifully as he does, hips pushing up as he works at your sensitive flesh.
“Lavi,” you murmur, chest heaving.  You’re caught between being over-sensitive and not getting enough of his constant movements.  The world around you is blurry and dulled down, and all you can think about is the way those sharp green eyes are watching you.
“Come for me again.  Let me watch you,” he says, taking a short break as he kisses your inner thigh.  His mouth is bruised and reddish, shining with your juices as he looks down at you.  The sight is addictive and extremely satisfying.
“Give me your cock and I’ll come for you,” you purr, grinding your hips against his hand.  He swallows, pauses, before deciding that he really can’t say no to that.  A moment later, he’s shuffling out of his boxers and tossing the remainder of his clothes to the floor, along with the panties that are still clinging to your knees.
Your first thought is that he’s stunningly glorious when he’s naked and hard.  Your second thought, as he leans back and pulls your thighs together, is that you’re not sure what he’s doing.  Your third thought isn’t so much of a thought as it is a shot of burning desire, because that’s when you realize where he’s going with this.
His cock is pushing between your legs, sliding against the outer folds of your cunt.  He throws your legs over one of his shoulders and smoothes his hands down your thighs, dragging you rather abruptly down the mattress so that the backs of your thighs are pressed against the crevice of his hips and waist.
And then he starts thrusting, and you swear that even sex itself isn’t as arousing as the sight he makes.
You look down at watch as he ruts against you, squeezing your thighs tightly.  Every forward movement and you see the tip of his cock slide into the small thatch of hair above your clit; every backward thrust and his cock drags down against your wet folds with abandon.  You feel him against your thighs and against your cunt and it’s almost as arousing as feeling him inside you.  Almost.
Lavi turns his head and kisses the knee that’s propped up over his shoulder.  When he looks back down and catches your eye, his gaze is bleary with arousal and not as sharp anymore.  You’re personally finding it very difficult to breathe, and the look on his face only adds to the difficulty.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” he murmurs with a groan, thrusting forward again.  When he drags back, he pauses and reaches down for his cock before pressing it against your entrance.  You hold your breath tightly…and then release it when he only pushes in a few inches before drawing back and returning to your thighs.
“Lavi,” you moan, your voice sounding more like a complaint than anything else.  You glower at him from below and he chuckles darkly.
He does it again, guiding it cock only a few inches inside you before pulling out.  But this time, he keeps thrusting very shallowly into you and it’s quickly making your impatient skyrocket.
You take matters into your own hands.  (Or there-lack of.)
With a huff, you tilt your thighs down and force his cock deeper inside you.  Lavi inhales sharply, eyelids fluttering, and squeezes your legs.  But he doesn’t pull out of you.  The mere thought of doing so has utterly vanished when you circle your hips, grinding down against him while groaning his name.
“Impatient,” he mutters, but doesn’t seem to be complaining.  He pulls your legs off his shoulders and nestles between your thighs before bearing down on you with the full force of his thrusts.  You immediately moan at the feel of him filling you so perfectly and tilt your hips up to take him deeper.
“You were t-teasing too much,” you pant as he quickens his pace.  His thrusts are so fast that you can barely keep up, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.  You twist your body, writhing beneath him as stars cloud your vision.  Another orgasm already?  Christ, he’s good.
Lavi feels your walls convulsing around him and he thunders forward, pumping into you and loving the way your cunt tightens as you come.  You do so with a cry, expression melting so beautifully that it takes all he’s got not to follow after you.
He wants to enjoy you more. 
“Okay,” he pants, hips rolling forward without pause.  “That was two.  Think I can make you come one more time?”  He circles his hips into yours with a smirk and you cry out again because you’re so sensitive.
“You’re gonna make me die!” you murmur into your arm, turning your face away and closing your eyes.  It feels so good, so good to have him like this, so arousing to be tied down and to have him do whatever he wants. 
Lavi hums, draws back, and throws one of your legs over.  Suddenly you’re rolling on your side and Lavi is shoving his knee between your legs, hands moving over your body as he guides his cock back inside you.  The ties binding your wrists twist from the new position and prohibit your movements even more than before, which is oddly even more exciting.  You bite your lip when he slides back into you and your back arches without permission.
Just when you think it can’t get any better, Lavi’s hand twists between your legs and starts rubbing at you relentlessly, and suddenly you’re moaning loudly and bucking your hips back against him and coming for the third time in less than thirty minutes.
He groans at the sight you make.  You’re even wetter than before and when you start to come again, the way your muscles spasm over his cock is nothing short of heavenly.  Which is probably why he doesn’t even try to stop himself from coming too.  He can’t possibly hold it off any longer, especially not when you’re bucking so furiously against him and moaning like that into the pillow.
He lets himself with a grunt, burying his face into your neck as his hips move harder against yours.  He feels himself explode and groans.  It feels so good to come undone inside you that he keeps going just for the sheer sake of it, until finally he pulls out and curls himself around you.
You’re so out of it that you barely notice him untying the scarves until he’s gently rolling you over and pulling you into his arms.
Lavi smirks and kisses your temple.  “How’d you feel?” he asks, rubbing his hand up your back idly.
You’re still breathing hard when you snuggle into him and murmur, “Like I could sleep for days.”  You pause, then add, “Also I’m going to keep buying you scarves.  I kinda like how you use them.”  You kiss the center of his chest with a tired grin.
Lavi laughs.  “I told you it’d be worth it.  Next time I’m tying up your ankles too.”
You have just enough energy to playfully slap him and mutter, “Next time, I’m tying you up and making you come three times.”
He snorts.  “Yeah?  Be prepared to not get any sleep then.”
You shrug.  One sleepless night is a small price to pay, especially when it involves him.

~~~