Breakfast at Tiffany's [Open Rp]
((OOC: NSFW - China's mun puts forward a warning: There will be Smut! Crowd roars. I, personally, didn't see that coming. But come on, Kuronue is in it. Speaks for itself.))
It was eight in the morning and the air was crisp and cool. China was sitting at one of the room-length tables reading the Daily Prophet. Beside her was a plate with three ( Read more... )
It was eight in the morning and the air was crisp and cool. China was sitting at one of the room-length tables reading the Daily Prophet. Beside her was a plate with three ( Read more... )
Ah. She was one of those. Like Kayo, he thought. He got the vibe that she wanted a relationship which he did not. Even if he had, Yukimura probably would have disliked the thought. He did, after all, slightly dislike the idea of Sasuke and Yukimura getting together in a more serious kind of way.
So he needed to scare her off, just a little. Which wasn't hard, he thought that all he had to do was tell her the truth. "Back in Makai, in the Demon World, I had a hobby of taking pretty things. Things like humans, as well as jewels and other objects. The ones I liked taking the most were geisha, artists of the time back then. They were delicate, pretty, floated along in their kimono and existed only to entertain, to be there to admire." He looked down to the table, smiling, and handed Miyako another piece of fruit.
"I liked taking pretty things and making them not, China. I liked to fuck the geisha, use them until they broke or ran away." He looked up at her, raised an eyebrow. "My like for pretty, doll-like things has not diminished in my centuries I spent alive or dead."
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Her sex was heating up. She felt the familiar tightening of her cervix.
She crossed her legs and ignored it. She wasn't getting involved with Kuronue. Ever.
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"I'm not interested in anything more than fucking," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't want a serious relationship. And I sure as hell will not turn monogamous." He waved a hand. "Even if I did, Yukimura would probably have your ass for it." Sometimes Yukimura could be possessive too, perhaps not as much as Kuronue, to a point where it almost bordered on obsession, but it was there in him not liking other people leaving their marks on him, in the words that slipped out of his mouth when they fucked.
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Ok, she hated saying that. He did save her after all. But it needed to be said, as bluntly as he had mentioned 'fucking' her. It would hopefully snap that log wedge in his mind that told him she wanted more.
Her sex tightened.
China smiled. "Besides, I wouldn't want to get in-between you and this, Yukimura, fellow." She was feeling uncomfortable in her pants. She didn't like this feeling. Maybe there was a spell or potion in a book in the library that could get rid of it. It made her feel vulnerable, a trait she on no account wanted to feel again.
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"I haven't," he agreed. He meant it. He didn't. At least not with her. With Yukimura, it was somehow different.
Still, looking at her as she was now, he wanted to dive across the table and fuck her into it.
He didn't think he'd ever talked to someone so much before fucking them.
He leaned forward and pulled his hat off his head, set it beside him on the table, shifted Miyako's platter of fruit to the side and scooped her up, set her down by it. Path cleared, at least. He looked up to her and smiled, just a little. "I will admit, China, I do find you...appealing, to say the least." Understatement. Her scent made his head reel.
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"They all do."
God... she wanted to run her hands through his hair. Her finger twitched with the fantasy. She took in a deep breath and moved back somewhat, as if distancing herself from him.
She felt like one of those stupid girls in romantic films, the ones that find out some sort of crap about the leading man, then probe him with questions like, 'How do I know this is real?' and 'I can't trust that what I feel is true, or a product of the...' spell, potion, comedic situation that ends up biting everyone on the ass. She swore internally.
She knew he only found her 'appealing' because of one thing.
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He tensed, his muscles coiling tight, just in case she said that, no, there wouldn't be a problem. He'd leap over the table and take her right here, damn it. He almost ached he wanted her, on impulse, right now. And, if not her, then someone/.
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"I really don't think it wise," she said. Her no ricocheted in her mind.
God only knew she needed a good fuck, it had been years, seriously, hundreds or more. Being in the Great Hall for breakfast only festooned more logs to the fire between her legs, she had a thing for morning sex. China bit her lip, hoping her denial wasn't all that potent to his nose, and that her no was taken well. She didn't want it done in the Hall, she was a traditionalist in that regard. In a bed, or nothing.
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He swept her plates and cutlery off the table with demonic speed and then launched himself across the table at her. He tackled her, twisted so that it wasn't her that hit the floor, and pulled and pushed at her until she was on the table and he was between her legs looking down at her. He let go of her arms. which he hand held by her head, and kissed her instead, pressing himself against her so that she could feel his hardness as much as he could feel how soft and yielding she was under him.
For all he loved the hard lines of males, delicate females were quite something to. Especially self righteous and proper ones, like China.
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She was about to yell at him, protest, swear, but then his lips were on hers and all that she planned to say melted in her throat. Her eyes slowly closed and her cheeks warmed with the heated blood that her sex was generous enough to share. Her body went soft under the kiss, her mind whirled, buzzing like it harboured a colony of bees. Her heart hammered against her ribcage not unlike the way a squirrel slammed a nut against a rock or branch to crack it. Her rationality screamed through the fog in her head, pleading with her to stop this somehow, to break from the vulnerability of the situation.
But she ignored it.
She moaned, without shame.
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Her giving in was all the confirmation he needed to continue. He tilted his head just that little further, forced her mouth open to kiss her as deeply as he could, and let his hands cup her face. They lingered for a moment, as he worked his lips against hers and toyed with her tongue, then slid down her neck to her shoulders and then down to her breasts, which he framed with his hands briefly and then let them wander down to her hips and ass. He rocked down in to her, moaning himself at the friction it caused.
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Her rationality took note of the feel of him, the way he touched her. It shouted, but the fogged muffled the sounds.
But who cared?
He was oh my god! More! She needed friction!
Her hand reached out and rested on his hip, her deft fingers manoeuvred under his vest and layers until her manicured fingers caressed skin. His skin, she moaned again. She directed her hands further under they were nudging the hem of his pants.
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His breathing was heavy and he stared down at her with pure lust in his eyes as he licked his lips, tasting her on them. She looked so fuckable, flushed and needy.
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She opened her eyes.
She all but screamed.
She had a moment were instead of seeing Kuronue's form over her, she was staring into the cruel, depth-less eyes of Apos. His cruel smile widening worse than the Cheshire Cat's. His chuckle and tormenting words echoed in her ears, her head. She cringed away from the memory, only to find herself staring into Kuronue's eyes.
Her eyes prickled with tears.
Her hands left his clothes and she pushed at his chest, trying to marshal her words so they didn't crack to much, and lost. "I-I'm sorry. I can't." She pushed harder and crawled out from under him. Tears started to stream down her coloured cheeks. She felt like an idiot. The memory should have been enough to extinguish the flames between her legs, but she kept thinking of Kuronue and his lips, and his hands and the forest-fire continued.
She stepped on to the bench to jump to the floor, but lost her footing, slipping on a piece of fruit that had been scattered when Kuronue had seized his chance.
The floor rushed her.
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Gently, he fixed what of her clothes he'd undone, then reached up and smoothed her hair back. He'd be lying to say he hadn't at least expected something like this. People dealt with things in different ways, after all. Not everyone went through PTSD after the kind of attacks Apos seemed to prefer.
Her scent was still thick around them and whatever floral perfume she was wearing almost made him wrinkle his nose at the chemical edge to it. He placed his hands back in his lap, worked on slowing his breathing down. "Okay?" he asked, voice soft.
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She buried her head in her hands, after a moment, she mumbled a thank you yet again saving her life. That ass-hole didn't just take her dignity, but also took away an opportunity to have sex! She'd wanted sex, wanted it with Kuronue. Fucking Apos, fuck him!
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Once her heart had slowed down, and her sex was only a dull roar between her thighs, she emerged from behind her hands. She let them fall to her lap, she sighed. Her mascara was running down her cheeks, as she stared into Kuronue's eyes. This would have to be too much melodrama for him. She felt ridiculous. She was supposed to be a pillar, a pillar of independence and strength. A tower against the norms of human emotion. She had to keep herself in check.
She blushed in embarrassment.
She had kept Kuronue waiting long enough. "Sorry," she muttered. Her eyebrows pushed together, knotting her expression in a frustrated frown. She wasn't sure what else to say, nothing could really be said. She wanted to do it, to feel him inside her, to relinquish just that small bit of herself, to not have to be so much in control. But...
China reflected. Her heat for Kuronue was gone, replaced by a buzz, the sour remains of what could have been. She was uncomfortable. She sighed and looked up to the ceiling, away from his eyes, hopefully his rejection would be swift.
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