ON YOUR MOUTH LIKE LIQUOR: A PORN FI(ght)C-ATHON BC IT'S NOT A BATTLE
myself and magisterequitum were very sad that the porn battle wasn't happening this year so we talked about having a mini ficathon focused on well... porn. so that's what we did. BOW CHICKA POW.
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“You need to stop,” he snarls. Her throat works against the vise of his hand, his thumb and forefinger pressed directly against her pulse points. The jewel hanging from her choker digs into her skin. Backed and pinned against the wall by his body, she swallows a quip about minding the tapestry Louis had commissioned for her - priceless, of course.
Instead, she reaches down and cups him, not bothering to smooth away her smirk when she finds him fully erect.
“Is that what you want, truly?” she says, stroking him once.
His moan rolls into a feral sound she’s never heard from him before, his grip on her windpipe tightens, and for the heartbeat that their eyes meet, she feels a flicker of fear. And then he replaces his hand with his teeth, savagely sinking them into her skin as he scatters a bruising battery of kisses. Another heartbeat, and he’s pushed them both to the marble tiles. It becomes her turn to moan as he wrenches up her skirts and immediately puts his mouth against her, tongue and hands remembering exactly where she always liked them best and applying raw force in a rhythm that has her biting the back of her hand in an attempt to keep from screaming. She does not succeed.
As soon as she reaches the brink, he pulls away. Her entire back arches off the floor when he finally slides inside of her. She winds her fingers into his hair, easing her fingertips against his scalp before clenching them together in a fist as she sits up and straddles his waist. The violence of their rocking hips matches the warring of their mouths, both attempting to wrest control from the other.
“Everything in this chamber is mine,” she goads directly into his ear. She earns herself another bite at that, one that she suspects finally draws blood.
“So what does it mean, Milady,” he rasps between thrusts, “if you are mine?”
The fullness of his length stretching her, filling her, feels exactly as it always did. Release and return. Pulling back, almost all the way out, before it drives harder, deeper. She drags her nails down his back to distract him as she buries her face in his neck, hiding her tears.
At the moment of her climax, he pushes the pace even further and she holds tightly to him. When he spills his seed into her in shuddering jerks, he instinctively tethers himself by gripping her in return, a hand tangled in her hair and his arm around her back. And for the span of a heartbeat, she allows herself to pretend.
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