Death Note Anonymous Kink Meme
Welcome to the Death Note Anonymous Kink Meme!
How it works:
* Comment anonymously with a kinkfic request. All requests must contain a character or pairing/threesome/moresome (any combination of guys/girls/shinigami/whatever are OK, crossovers are fine too), and at least one kink. If you need inspiration, check out this huge list of kinks by eliade. ( Read more... )
How it works:
* Comment anonymously with a kinkfic request. All requests must contain a character or pairing/threesome/moresome (any combination of guys/girls/shinigami/whatever are OK, crossovers are fine too), and at least one kink. If you need inspiration, check out this huge list of kinks by eliade. ( Read more... )
“You’re a very demanding man, Mikami-san,” she whispered as he slowly stroked her hip.
“Do you wish an apology?”
His voice was husky with want and he moved closer, cupping her face with his other hand and kissing her deeply. This time he didn’t protest as she brought her hands up to run through his hair and over his shoulders. His other hand stayed on her hip and she thought for a moment that he might be scared but when she tried to move her lower body closer to his, his grip tightened a little, pushing her away. No, his wants were specific and normally that would annoy her but this, this was fascinating and more erotic than anything she’d ever experienced before.
Finally, his hand slid lower, down past her hip, over the top of her thigh, slipping delicately between her legs. She was already damp and his hand increased that. It was so delicate, so different some all other touches she’d felt, still so careful, so thoughtful, not as though he was trying to arouse her at all. His kisses were growing more passionate, more desperate and he moaned when she rested one of her hands on his lower back.
“Mikami-san,” she whispered. “Mikami-san … ”
“I … please do not rush me … ”
His voice was hoarse now and Takada wondered if perhaps the sex wouldn’t live up to the foreplay, if he would come before he even made it inside her. But she could probably survive that if he continued to stroke her like that. He was kissing her throat now and he moved down to her breasts, gently exploring and caressing with his tongue and she arched her back and moaned softly to show that she was enjoying it.
“Takada-san,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Please … please lay on your back. Put your hands above your head and spread your legs.”
She did what he asked because she knew that if she didn’t, he would stop and she really didn’t want him to. And she was thoroughly compelled by him now, trying to work out why he was doing this the way he was, what guided him, what he intended to do next. Mikami-san sat up and unwrapped the condom that she had brought. He applied it with skill and she watched the action, watched the way those long white fingers wrapped around his erection and briefly slipped into fantasies of what he looked like when he touched himself; if it was like this, ruled and regulated and if he ever, ever lost control …
He touched her again before he entered her, fingers carefully exploring, loosening, stroking. He kissed her mouth softly, then her neck and then very gently entered her. When she tried to help him, he shook his head and mumbled “Please stay still, Takada-san.” so she did. His voice was raw with lust now, his entire body shaking and she was suddenly thrilled by the idea of inspiring a loss of control, of ripping him apart layer by layer, despite this desperate, compulsive need to control everything. She moved her hips upwards and he gave a rasping moan and then his own hips jerked and she saw him bite his lip, clearly trying to stop himself.
“You’re a beautiful man,” she murmured, letting her eyes fall half-closed, squirming beneath him.
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