(no subject)
Untitled Smutty Ficlet
Sailor Moon
A/Z
AN: for elianthos. I was reading her smutty ficlets today, and this happened. That woman's dangerous, I tell you :D
“Breathe.”
Her voice was low, hushed against the skin of his neck. He shivered as her breath fluttered against his beating pulse, sweat cooling on the small of his back. He smiled, eyes still closed as he held on for dear life, and leaned back as her deft fingers caressed his hair.
It had become loose during their activities, and it now fell in graceful waves down his back. Ami loved his hair, and he knew it, which was why his smile turned even wider when she made a small sound of pleasure as her fingers danced amidst the strawberry blond strands.
“Better?” she asked him, just the tiniest hint of amusement in her voice. He rocked his hips, driving himself deeper, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. “Much,” he told her, slowly beginning to pick up his rhythm again. She arched against him, slender body powerful and strong underneath his. Such soft skin, he thought, one hand cupping a small breast while his lips closed over the other nipple. He sucked, tongue swirling, quick and fast like lightning, and she cried out.
The sounds she made drove him mad.
So tight, so controlled, Ami was. But here, with him, she let go. And the thrill of knowing nobody else would ever see her like this, wild and unbound, fingernails scratching at his naked back as he drove himself into her, deeper, harder, was almost more than he could bear.
“Open your eyes,” he told her, needing to look into her as he took her. Needing to see those blue eyes glazed over by pleasure, lost to sex. She did, long eyelashes heavy and dark, and in those depths he saw the echoes of his thrusts, like flashes of exploding stars. Flesh met flesh, the hard planes of his hips cradled by the soft curves of her waist.
His hand moved lower, cupped her rear and pushed himself deeper still. She moaned again, the fingers of one hand clutching at his shoulder. “Take it,” he whispered, feeling her move around him, so wet, so tight! She nodded, pink tongue coming out to lick her lips, and he suddenly had to kiss her. He did, stealing her breath, her moans, claiming her body and soul.
They moved against each other, grinding, his cock deep inside. “Zane,” she said, voice husky and low, and he caught her meaning without her needing to say more. He smiled, leaning down to tenderly bite her earlobe and whisper: “Your turn.”
She rose above him like a mermaid, clad in nothing but moonlight and sweat. As he fell back on the sheets, a devilish smile on his face, he took it all in: the flush across her cheeks, the tender peaks of her nipples, the soft bounce of her breasts. The flat planes of her stomach, the patch of blue-black hair below. His erection proudly jutted out between his own legs, the purple head of his cock glistening with her juices still.
She watched him for a heartbeat or two, eyes half-lidded, just as he watched her. What did she see, he wondered? Whatever it was, she seemed to like it, because she moved closer, straddling his hips, sliding against him with ease.
It was his turn to moan this time, half a prayer and half a curse, in a language that had not been spoken for millennia or more. She liked this, he knew, could tell by the way her breathing quickened, by the way she bit her bottom lip. She liked to take, just as much as she liked to be taken, and it was something he gladly gave every time.
She did not mount him right away, though. She took her time, leaning down to brush her breasts against his chest, a torturous caress that had him biting his own cheek to keep his hands off her. “Turn about is fair play,” she whispered, forcing a choked laugh through his clenched lips. It was a loosing battle, though, and soon it became too much for him to bear.
His right hand found her, the tender flesh of her pussy slippery and warm. “So wet,” he muttered, mind half lost, his fingers flicking the sensitive bud of her clitoris with ease. She gasped, stilled, and cast him a reproachful look. One of his eyebrows rose, and he shrugged as best he could, all without interrupting his ministrations.
Zane was very good at multi-tasking.
But then, so was Ami.
She reached behind her, clasping him in her hand, deft fingers hitting him in just the right spot. His vision swam, and with the feel of her warm and wet against his palm, and his own cock tight in her own, well, it took all he had not to come right there and then.
“Are you going to behave now?”
It took a few seconds for her words to actually register, and by the time they did, she was already moving herself forward. Positioning herself right above him, he held him straight up with one hand - not that that part of his anatomy needed any assistance in that sense whatsoever - and slowly, so, so slowly, lowered himself over him. Her other hand came to rest on his chest, right above his heart, and through this connection he felt her heartbeat, fast and strong, beating in tune with his own.
“I love you,” he told her, and that was all he could say as he felt himself enter her, inch by delicious inch, her reply lost to his long moan of completion. Zane’s hand grabbed her hips, wanting to push her down, needing to push up, but he merely held on, leaving all control to her. She rewarded him with a brilliant smile, sweaty bangs sticking to her forehead.
She set the rhythm this time, finding her pleasure, slow and steady at times, fast and hard at others. Zane loved watching her, the tiny changes of her face as she neared climax, the tightening of her around him, the deeper flush that spread down to her chest. “Baby,” she told him, words clipped as she rose and fell to the staccato of their lovemaking. “Soon.”
She always warned him, no matter what, as if she was afraid she’d go and he would not notice. Impossible, that, given as right now, he only existed for her. He brought her down and closer to him, holding her tight, a slippery hug as she began moving faster and faster, letting go of all thought and control. He joined her, arching up as she pressed down, opposite motions that brought them ever closer together, a bump and grind that had the bed shaking in its legs. His hand moved between their bodies, found her clit, and that was all it took.
For all the noises she made during sex, Ami got every, very quiet when she came.
She stilled, every muscle in her body tight as a drum, and then just as suddenly let go. She liquefied against him, body supple and ripe, and Zane pounded once, twice, three times, and cried out as he finished himself.
They lay there for a few seconds, panting with effort, feeling the echoes of orgasm ripple across their bodies. Languid and limp, she rolled against him, cuddling against his side with a contented sigh. He preferred to stretch, lying on his back and letting the cool night air cool the sweat off his skin.
“You look like a porcupine,” she told him, blue eyes crinkling with amusement. He turned his head to look at her, hand coming up to brush his hair our of his face. “And whose fault is that?” he countered, his grin blossoming to match hers.
She kissed him, and she tasted of sex and love and mint.
***
END.
Sailor Moon
A/Z
AN: for elianthos. I was reading her smutty ficlets today, and this happened. That woman's dangerous, I tell you :D
“Breathe.”
Her voice was low, hushed against the skin of his neck. He shivered as her breath fluttered against his beating pulse, sweat cooling on the small of his back. He smiled, eyes still closed as he held on for dear life, and leaned back as her deft fingers caressed his hair.
It had become loose during their activities, and it now fell in graceful waves down his back. Ami loved his hair, and he knew it, which was why his smile turned even wider when she made a small sound of pleasure as her fingers danced amidst the strawberry blond strands.
“Better?” she asked him, just the tiniest hint of amusement in her voice. He rocked his hips, driving himself deeper, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. “Much,” he told her, slowly beginning to pick up his rhythm again. She arched against him, slender body powerful and strong underneath his. Such soft skin, he thought, one hand cupping a small breast while his lips closed over the other nipple. He sucked, tongue swirling, quick and fast like lightning, and she cried out.
The sounds she made drove him mad.
So tight, so controlled, Ami was. But here, with him, she let go. And the thrill of knowing nobody else would ever see her like this, wild and unbound, fingernails scratching at his naked back as he drove himself into her, deeper, harder, was almost more than he could bear.
“Open your eyes,” he told her, needing to look into her as he took her. Needing to see those blue eyes glazed over by pleasure, lost to sex. She did, long eyelashes heavy and dark, and in those depths he saw the echoes of his thrusts, like flashes of exploding stars. Flesh met flesh, the hard planes of his hips cradled by the soft curves of her waist.
His hand moved lower, cupped her rear and pushed himself deeper still. She moaned again, the fingers of one hand clutching at his shoulder. “Take it,” he whispered, feeling her move around him, so wet, so tight! She nodded, pink tongue coming out to lick her lips, and he suddenly had to kiss her. He did, stealing her breath, her moans, claiming her body and soul.
They moved against each other, grinding, his cock deep inside. “Zane,” she said, voice husky and low, and he caught her meaning without her needing to say more. He smiled, leaning down to tenderly bite her earlobe and whisper: “Your turn.”
She rose above him like a mermaid, clad in nothing but moonlight and sweat. As he fell back on the sheets, a devilish smile on his face, he took it all in: the flush across her cheeks, the tender peaks of her nipples, the soft bounce of her breasts. The flat planes of her stomach, the patch of blue-black hair below. His erection proudly jutted out between his own legs, the purple head of his cock glistening with her juices still.
She watched him for a heartbeat or two, eyes half-lidded, just as he watched her. What did she see, he wondered? Whatever it was, she seemed to like it, because she moved closer, straddling his hips, sliding against him with ease.
It was his turn to moan this time, half a prayer and half a curse, in a language that had not been spoken for millennia or more. She liked this, he knew, could tell by the way her breathing quickened, by the way she bit her bottom lip. She liked to take, just as much as she liked to be taken, and it was something he gladly gave every time.
She did not mount him right away, though. She took her time, leaning down to brush her breasts against his chest, a torturous caress that had him biting his own cheek to keep his hands off her. “Turn about is fair play,” she whispered, forcing a choked laugh through his clenched lips. It was a loosing battle, though, and soon it became too much for him to bear.
His right hand found her, the tender flesh of her pussy slippery and warm. “So wet,” he muttered, mind half lost, his fingers flicking the sensitive bud of her clitoris with ease. She gasped, stilled, and cast him a reproachful look. One of his eyebrows rose, and he shrugged as best he could, all without interrupting his ministrations.
Zane was very good at multi-tasking.
But then, so was Ami.
She reached behind her, clasping him in her hand, deft fingers hitting him in just the right spot. His vision swam, and with the feel of her warm and wet against his palm, and his own cock tight in her own, well, it took all he had not to come right there and then.
“Are you going to behave now?”
It took a few seconds for her words to actually register, and by the time they did, she was already moving herself forward. Positioning herself right above him, he held him straight up with one hand - not that that part of his anatomy needed any assistance in that sense whatsoever - and slowly, so, so slowly, lowered himself over him. Her other hand came to rest on his chest, right above his heart, and through this connection he felt her heartbeat, fast and strong, beating in tune with his own.
“I love you,” he told her, and that was all he could say as he felt himself enter her, inch by delicious inch, her reply lost to his long moan of completion. Zane’s hand grabbed her hips, wanting to push her down, needing to push up, but he merely held on, leaving all control to her. She rewarded him with a brilliant smile, sweaty bangs sticking to her forehead.
She set the rhythm this time, finding her pleasure, slow and steady at times, fast and hard at others. Zane loved watching her, the tiny changes of her face as she neared climax, the tightening of her around him, the deeper flush that spread down to her chest. “Baby,” she told him, words clipped as she rose and fell to the staccato of their lovemaking. “Soon.”
She always warned him, no matter what, as if she was afraid she’d go and he would not notice. Impossible, that, given as right now, he only existed for her. He brought her down and closer to him, holding her tight, a slippery hug as she began moving faster and faster, letting go of all thought and control. He joined her, arching up as she pressed down, opposite motions that brought them ever closer together, a bump and grind that had the bed shaking in its legs. His hand moved between their bodies, found her clit, and that was all it took.
For all the noises she made during sex, Ami got every, very quiet when she came.
She stilled, every muscle in her body tight as a drum, and then just as suddenly let go. She liquefied against him, body supple and ripe, and Zane pounded once, twice, three times, and cried out as he finished himself.
They lay there for a few seconds, panting with effort, feeling the echoes of orgasm ripple across their bodies. Languid and limp, she rolled against him, cuddling against his side with a contented sigh. He preferred to stretch, lying on his back and letting the cool night air cool the sweat off his skin.
“You look like a porcupine,” she told him, blue eyes crinkling with amusement. He turned his head to look at her, hand coming up to brush his hair our of his face. “And whose fault is that?” he countered, his grin blossoming to match hers.
She kissed him, and she tasted of sex and love and mint.
***
END.