Your Hands Around My Neck {2/3}afterandalasiaJuly 16 2011, 17:19:35 UTC
There is no reply for that. He draws back, letting her away, only to push her up against the wall again. The way that the breath is forced from her lungs and her head thrown back burns through him; he goes back to her, cupping her jaw to hold her mouth still. One of her legs raises, bare foot scraping along his leg, and then he hooks one hand beneath her thigh to hitch it up around his waist. The movements are animal, instinctual; he is sure that only a demon such as her could draw such motions from him. Esmerelda groans as he kisses the upturned line of her throat, licks and nips at her skin, his hand forcing itself up the toned, soft lines of her thighs beneath her skirt.
For succumbing, he thinks, it makes me a man. But he cannot speak whilst he is sucking on her neck, and she does not seem to care anyway as he slips his hand further and further up her thighs, already parted for him, the musky warmth between slick beneath his fingers. He bites her skin at the same time as he sinks two fingers into her, and he is not sure which it is that makes her gasp.
One of her hands slides down the back of his robes, the rough skin of her palm at first but then the points of her fingertips, her nails, dragging over his shoulderblades. Frollo rocks his fingers into her, the heel of his hand rubbing against her pubis, to feel the soft movement of her inner muscles around him as she reaches up, pressing her fingers into his mouth.
He swirls his tongue around them and looks up to meet her eyes again, both their gazes hazy with lust. Her lips are parted, reddened from their ferocious meeting with his, and she muffles sounds in her throat as he finds with his fingers a place that makes her buck against him, reaching for it over and over as he watched her face start to sheen with sweat and felt her fingers trace across his tongue.
"Where did you learn your tricks, Judge Frollo?" she murmurs, leaning in to let her breath dance on his face. Her fingers hook his teeth, make him jerk against her, as her other hand digs her nails into his back. "With whores in backstreets? With other women in this house of God? Or does it come from your sick mind when you fuck your hand at night, because no woman will take you?"
He bites down on her fingers, and she withdraws them with a hiss, at the same time as he pulls his hand away. He plants it against the stone wall, his fingers leaving slick marks on the stone, the other hand still tight on her side to hold her to him. "The demon you put in me is enough, gypsy," he snarls, and the pounding of his heartbeat seems to be coming more from his cock than from his chest. He fumbles to hitch up his robes, and hears her laugh darkly as he tries to pull the fabric aside. Anger flashing, Frollo spins the gypsy around so that she is pushed face-first against the wall, her head turned sideways to press her cheek into the stone.
For succumbing, he thinks, it makes me a man. But he cannot speak whilst he is sucking on her neck, and she does not seem to care anyway as he slips his hand further and further up her thighs, already parted for him, the musky warmth between slick beneath his fingers. He bites her skin at the same time as he sinks two fingers into her, and he is not sure which it is that makes her gasp.
One of her hands slides down the back of his robes, the rough skin of her palm at first but then the points of her fingertips, her nails, dragging over his shoulderblades. Frollo rocks his fingers into her, the heel of his hand rubbing against her pubis, to feel the soft movement of her inner muscles around him as she reaches up, pressing her fingers into his mouth.
He swirls his tongue around them and looks up to meet her eyes again, both their gazes hazy with lust. Her lips are parted, reddened from their ferocious meeting with his, and she muffles sounds in her throat as he finds with his fingers a place that makes her buck against him, reaching for it over and over as he watched her face start to sheen with sweat and felt her fingers trace across his tongue.
"Where did you learn your tricks, Judge Frollo?" she murmurs, leaning in to let her breath dance on his face. Her fingers hook his teeth, make him jerk against her, as her other hand digs her nails into his back. "With whores in backstreets? With other women in this house of God? Or does it come from your sick mind when you fuck your hand at night, because no woman will take you?"
He bites down on her fingers, and she withdraws them with a hiss, at the same time as he pulls his hand away. He plants it against the stone wall, his fingers leaving slick marks on the stone, the other hand still tight on her side to hold her to him. "The demon you put in me is enough, gypsy," he snarls, and the pounding of his heartbeat seems to be coming more from his cock than from his chest. He fumbles to hitch up his robes, and hears her laugh darkly as he tries to pull the fabric aside. Anger flashing, Frollo spins the gypsy around so that she is pushed face-first against the wall, her head turned sideways to press her cheek into the stone.
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