[Vix] Them
Them
NC17; ??/Ruki/??
Written for the psc_domination 'Any Excuse for Smut' challenge, for which my prompt was 'one-night stand'.
-
Lights. Music. Bodies.
You move with the sounds, letting them flow through your body like water as you dance with a cat-like grace, performing for everyone and no-one in your own little bubble. The dance floor is yours; you feel the warmth of others, more people dancing, gyrating around you, but you pay them no heed, allowing the music to determine your path. The alcohol your friends had plied you with earlier now a pleasant buzz, a gentle heat pulsing in your veins. You don't spare a thought for where they have gone, though, all that matters is the here and now, the flash of lights, dulled by your closed eyelids, the press of bodies against your own, hands brushing across your raised arms as you dance.
Your position is perfect for him, and he moves in, slipping fluidly between the mass of people pressing against each other until he reaches you. You do not know it, but he has been watching you all night, watching you as you laugh with your friends, silently urging you on from afar as you accept another drink, willing your friends to leave so that he can claim what he has been fantasizing about since the moment you walked in.
You startle slightly as his hands slide around your waist, but the music is not stopping, so neither are you, and he moves with you, matching your movements perfectly, almost as if he knows what you are going to do before you do. It should worry you, should make you stop and turn around, question his motives, but you do not. You just press back against his body, tipping your head back to lean on his shoulder as his hands move to your hips, fingers slipping underneath the skimpy fabric of your shirt to brush against heated flesh.
Bodies. Hands. Mouths.
Outside, the air is cold, but that is the last thing on your mind as he takes your breath away with his mouth, hands all over you, under your clothes, splaying across your back as he pulls you closer, nails digging into your sides as you comply.
"H-hi," You gasp out in between feverish, hungry kisses, "I'm-"
But you are shoved roughly against the wall before he you can even finish your sentence, and the other man's husky voice is growling in your ear, "I don't care who you are."
He may not know you, but you know him. It's impossible not to know him, his face is everywhere. Billboards, television screens, CD covers, posters, you cannot escape him.
Mouths. Tongues. Lust.
He is Ruki. And his voice, his lips, his touch is so maddeningly addictive that you don't care that he is being rough, being rude, being cruel... No, you welcome it, parting eagerly for him as he swoops in for another kiss, moaning softly as his teeth catch your lips.
Had he not caused your mind to fog with lust, you would have seen him pull out a cell phone, typing a quick message and shoving it back in his pocket without ever breaking away from your mouth. You would have seen the glint in his eye as he tore your lips apart, teeth soon sinking into your neck, would have felt the anticipation in his touch as his hands slid down to your thighs, his thumbs drawing soft patterns on the denim covering your legs. But your body was practically thrumming with need, arching wantonly into his touch, clutching desperately at his shirt, his hair, anything, as he continued his sweet torture on your neck.
So, you were completely taken off guard when a third hand took ahold of your head, fingers curling in your hair and tugging, another set of lips covering yours. But you are too far gone to do anything but open for them like the obedient little whore you are, allowing this other person to plunder your mouth with their tongue. The height tells you this is another man, as your head is being tilted up so that his lips can meet your own, and the force being used only helps to solidify that theory. No woman would grip that hard, would - and succeed - in dominating the kiss like that.
Lust. Need. Desire.
"You got him, then," The one against his mouth murmurs, but you know the beautifully deep voice is not being directed at you when the smaller man hums his reply against your throat.
"Mmm, so pretty..."
The question must have been rhetorical, because the first to speak is back, attacking your mouth with his own, his kisses hard, brutal, and utterly delicious, and you are caving beneath him, beneath them, not caring about the meaning behind their exchange. It's not important that the smaller of the two has obviously planned this, all that matters is that they don't stop, that they never stop, and you cling onto them both for dear life, your actions begging them not to leave just yet.
Indulgence. Desire. Heat.
Hands are pushing your shirt up, bunching it around your chest, and long fingers are unfastening your jeans, pushing them until they pool around your ankles, baring you to them. You can almost feel their eyes on you, the way they burn your skin, the hunger in them hot like fire.
You press eagerly into the hands on your hips, silently begging for more. The cool breeze and the rough concrete behind you are beginning to bring you to your senses, and you can't have that. You need to have more of them, need them clouding your mind again, need their heat, their touch, their lust to keep you floating above the ground, away from the harshness of reality. You need them to make you forget why this is wrong, why you shouldn't be doing this.
To your relief, they comply, and soon you are spiralling out of control again beneath their knowing fingers.
Heat. Sweat. Desperation.
The pleasure is coiling deep in your belly, you can feel it rising, pulsing, threatening to spill over as you are filled over and over again by the man whose face you have yet to catch a glimpse of. He has been so careful in evading your gaze, although he didn't need to be - you have had your eyes scrunched closed ever since Ruki forced you up against the wall for the first time.
The unashamed moans and gasps that should be flowing freely from your lips are muffled against the thick flesh in your mouth, and you know that it's Ruki's hands that are tangled in your hair, setting the pace for you, pushing himself in deeper, harder, occasionally making you choke, but you just breathe through it and keep going, desperate to bring him over the edge with you.
You feel a bead of perspiration slide down the arch of your back, only to be swept away by the wind, and you almost bite down on your mouthful as he hits you just right, the vibrations from your cry pulling an answering groan of satisfaction from the man with your head in a vice-like grip. His hips pick up speed as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, and you do all you can to help him along, trying to keep your lips tight, your tongue seeking out the spots you think will bring him closer.
Desperation. Gratification. Release.
A calloused hand curls slides between your legs, the thrusts of the other man losing their rhythm, becoming more and more erratic, and before you know it you are tumbling, falling into sweet oblivion, their hands the only things holding you up. You whimper softly as they both pull away from you, and you brace yourself on the wall with one arm, still trying to catch your breath. A low, soft moan reaches your ears, your only warning before hot liquid is covering your face, hitting your forehead and your cheek, the last few spurts reaching your slightly-parted lips, and you can't resist a taste, your tongue sneaking out to draw some of the bitter fluid into your mouth. A quiet grunt from somewhere behind you tells you the other has also reached his peak, and you feel his release cover your back, cooling rapidly in the spring air.
You sink to the floor, the hard ground rough and unforgiving underneath you, but your legs refuse to hold you any longer. You want them to stay, but you know they can't. You know you were just another nameless face for them to forget about once morning comes. But that doesn't stop the lazy smile that curls your lips in the knowledge that even though it was just one night, you were the one chosen.
Ruki surprises you, pressing an uncharacteristically soft kiss on your lips, which you assume to be his thanks, before he is rising and walking away, clothes already back in place.
From your spot on the floor, cold, debauched and utterly content, you manage to muster up the strength to loll your head to the side in a last-ditch attempt to catch a glimpse of your mystery man. At first, you think you were too slow as you see Ruki slip out of sight around the corner, but then the other, taller man -blonde, you notice- turns the corner too, and your eyes can just make out the sight of him tying a long piece of fabric around his nose.
Release. Defiled. Abandoned.
Used.
Sated.
NC17; ??/Ruki/??
Written for the psc_domination 'Any Excuse for Smut' challenge, for which my prompt was 'one-night stand'.
-
Lights. Music. Bodies.
You move with the sounds, letting them flow through your body like water as you dance with a cat-like grace, performing for everyone and no-one in your own little bubble. The dance floor is yours; you feel the warmth of others, more people dancing, gyrating around you, but you pay them no heed, allowing the music to determine your path. The alcohol your friends had plied you with earlier now a pleasant buzz, a gentle heat pulsing in your veins. You don't spare a thought for where they have gone, though, all that matters is the here and now, the flash of lights, dulled by your closed eyelids, the press of bodies against your own, hands brushing across your raised arms as you dance.
Your position is perfect for him, and he moves in, slipping fluidly between the mass of people pressing against each other until he reaches you. You do not know it, but he has been watching you all night, watching you as you laugh with your friends, silently urging you on from afar as you accept another drink, willing your friends to leave so that he can claim what he has been fantasizing about since the moment you walked in.
You startle slightly as his hands slide around your waist, but the music is not stopping, so neither are you, and he moves with you, matching your movements perfectly, almost as if he knows what you are going to do before you do. It should worry you, should make you stop and turn around, question his motives, but you do not. You just press back against his body, tipping your head back to lean on his shoulder as his hands move to your hips, fingers slipping underneath the skimpy fabric of your shirt to brush against heated flesh.
Bodies. Hands. Mouths.
Outside, the air is cold, but that is the last thing on your mind as he takes your breath away with his mouth, hands all over you, under your clothes, splaying across your back as he pulls you closer, nails digging into your sides as you comply.
"H-hi," You gasp out in between feverish, hungry kisses, "I'm-"
But you are shoved roughly against the wall before he you can even finish your sentence, and the other man's husky voice is growling in your ear, "I don't care who you are."
He may not know you, but you know him. It's impossible not to know him, his face is everywhere. Billboards, television screens, CD covers, posters, you cannot escape him.
Mouths. Tongues. Lust.
He is Ruki. And his voice, his lips, his touch is so maddeningly addictive that you don't care that he is being rough, being rude, being cruel... No, you welcome it, parting eagerly for him as he swoops in for another kiss, moaning softly as his teeth catch your lips.
Had he not caused your mind to fog with lust, you would have seen him pull out a cell phone, typing a quick message and shoving it back in his pocket without ever breaking away from your mouth. You would have seen the glint in his eye as he tore your lips apart, teeth soon sinking into your neck, would have felt the anticipation in his touch as his hands slid down to your thighs, his thumbs drawing soft patterns on the denim covering your legs. But your body was practically thrumming with need, arching wantonly into his touch, clutching desperately at his shirt, his hair, anything, as he continued his sweet torture on your neck.
So, you were completely taken off guard when a third hand took ahold of your head, fingers curling in your hair and tugging, another set of lips covering yours. But you are too far gone to do anything but open for them like the obedient little whore you are, allowing this other person to plunder your mouth with their tongue. The height tells you this is another man, as your head is being tilted up so that his lips can meet your own, and the force being used only helps to solidify that theory. No woman would grip that hard, would - and succeed - in dominating the kiss like that.
Lust. Need. Desire.
"You got him, then," The one against his mouth murmurs, but you know the beautifully deep voice is not being directed at you when the smaller man hums his reply against your throat.
"Mmm, so pretty..."
The question must have been rhetorical, because the first to speak is back, attacking your mouth with his own, his kisses hard, brutal, and utterly delicious, and you are caving beneath him, beneath them, not caring about the meaning behind their exchange. It's not important that the smaller of the two has obviously planned this, all that matters is that they don't stop, that they never stop, and you cling onto them both for dear life, your actions begging them not to leave just yet.
Indulgence. Desire. Heat.
Hands are pushing your shirt up, bunching it around your chest, and long fingers are unfastening your jeans, pushing them until they pool around your ankles, baring you to them. You can almost feel their eyes on you, the way they burn your skin, the hunger in them hot like fire.
You press eagerly into the hands on your hips, silently begging for more. The cool breeze and the rough concrete behind you are beginning to bring you to your senses, and you can't have that. You need to have more of them, need them clouding your mind again, need their heat, their touch, their lust to keep you floating above the ground, away from the harshness of reality. You need them to make you forget why this is wrong, why you shouldn't be doing this.
To your relief, they comply, and soon you are spiralling out of control again beneath their knowing fingers.
Heat. Sweat. Desperation.
The pleasure is coiling deep in your belly, you can feel it rising, pulsing, threatening to spill over as you are filled over and over again by the man whose face you have yet to catch a glimpse of. He has been so careful in evading your gaze, although he didn't need to be - you have had your eyes scrunched closed ever since Ruki forced you up against the wall for the first time.
The unashamed moans and gasps that should be flowing freely from your lips are muffled against the thick flesh in your mouth, and you know that it's Ruki's hands that are tangled in your hair, setting the pace for you, pushing himself in deeper, harder, occasionally making you choke, but you just breathe through it and keep going, desperate to bring him over the edge with you.
You feel a bead of perspiration slide down the arch of your back, only to be swept away by the wind, and you almost bite down on your mouthful as he hits you just right, the vibrations from your cry pulling an answering groan of satisfaction from the man with your head in a vice-like grip. His hips pick up speed as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, and you do all you can to help him along, trying to keep your lips tight, your tongue seeking out the spots you think will bring him closer.
Desperation. Gratification. Release.
A calloused hand curls slides between your legs, the thrusts of the other man losing their rhythm, becoming more and more erratic, and before you know it you are tumbling, falling into sweet oblivion, their hands the only things holding you up. You whimper softly as they both pull away from you, and you brace yourself on the wall with one arm, still trying to catch your breath. A low, soft moan reaches your ears, your only warning before hot liquid is covering your face, hitting your forehead and your cheek, the last few spurts reaching your slightly-parted lips, and you can't resist a taste, your tongue sneaking out to draw some of the bitter fluid into your mouth. A quiet grunt from somewhere behind you tells you the other has also reached his peak, and you feel his release cover your back, cooling rapidly in the spring air.
You sink to the floor, the hard ground rough and unforgiving underneath you, but your legs refuse to hold you any longer. You want them to stay, but you know they can't. You know you were just another nameless face for them to forget about once morning comes. But that doesn't stop the lazy smile that curls your lips in the knowledge that even though it was just one night, you were the one chosen.
Ruki surprises you, pressing an uncharacteristically soft kiss on your lips, which you assume to be his thanks, before he is rising and walking away, clothes already back in place.
From your spot on the floor, cold, debauched and utterly content, you manage to muster up the strength to loll your head to the side in a last-ditch attempt to catch a glimpse of your mystery man. At first, you think you were too slow as you see Ruki slip out of sight around the corner, but then the other, taller man -blonde, you notice- turns the corner too, and your eyes can just make out the sight of him tying a long piece of fabric around his nose.
Release. Defiled. Abandoned.
Used.
Sated.