Tuesday night
[That night.]Keira's belly hurts from laughing, her throat hoarse and her mouth set in a permanent grin when she clambers out of Paul's car onto the drive of her building. Nic is usually fairly adept at convincing him to drive them to and from places if neither of them feel like being particularly responsible, and that's most of the time
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The hand that she doesn't have wrapped around the base of his cock is curled gently around his balls. He can feel the side of her thumb pressing between them lightly, then sweeping across that tender, shivering skin, and his legs shift wider without his permission or direction. Oh, he wants to say, or maybe yeah, but he says nothing because his lungs have locked up tight, though every time her soft little fist clenches gently around his balls his breath is shoved out of him in tremulous gusts.
He closes his eyes because the only thing to look at is her ceiling, cracked and water spotted, and he doesn't have the coordination necessary to shove back up onto his elbows so that he can look at her, which is the only thing he wants to look at.
For long moments that's all she does, tongue a wetly heated teasing around the head of his cock, slender fingers exerting expert pressure on his balls. He's barely aware of the her shifting before she is fucking going down on him, and the thought that he's the luckiest bastard alive shoots briefly through his mind before he feels the tip of his cock hit the roof of her mouth, then glide, smooth as silk, into her throat.
"Oh holy fuck," he groans throatily, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice, and he strains to keep his hips still, keep from arching up into the constricting heat of her fucking amazing throat. "Fuck," he repeats, faintly this time, and her hand around his balls kneads again, careful and precise, and something coarse and husky escapes from his throat without the benefit of having been shaped into anything as useless as words.
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It's not like she's never seen Bill vulnerable, never heard him curse incoherently out of anger or frustration, but his voice when she's the one wringing it out of him (low and grumbled and gravel-worn like Glasgow, the way she remembers it from a family trip there ten years ago) makes her want to hold him down and break him completely.
He's struggling to stay still now that she's let her lips slide down his dick again. His hips half jerk up with every slight press of her fingers behind his balls and Keira fucking loves the way his thighs are parting; there's nothing hotter than a straight bloke giving it up a little.
Keira pulls away, drags lips and tongue and just a hint of teeth along Bill's cock until she suckling the head again, drawing out the most interesting little squeak out of Bill (she smiles at that, and it grows wider when she wonders if he can feel it against his cock head). He whineys gruffly when she pulls away so she tightens her hold on him, sliding her fist snugly over the spit-slick skin (warm to the touch) while she wets two of her own fingers.
One of his legs has conveniently bent at the knee, foot flat against the mattress, which affords Keira a nice angle when she reaches behind his testicles again and rubs the blunt pads of her fingers a little further than before.
She's rewarded with a sudden silence in the wake of an intake of breath that has yet to be pushed back out. Keira smiles and dips her head to run her tongue across his sac, dragging it slowly all the way to the leaking tip of his cock.
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Like Nic, who only subs for girls.
Um..., he thinks, and then her lips are descending again, not around his cock -- her hand is taking care of that now, steady, tight strokes creating an urgently pleasant twisting at the base of his spine -- but across his balls, lips warm and sucking, tongue wet and lapping, and he can hear himself gasping desperately. His hips twist upward, beyond his ability to still this time, and she obligingly swipes her tongue lower. The slick, hot pressure of her tongue on the underside of his nuts is enough to unwire him, leave him snarling wordlessly and helplessly up at the ceiling, aware of her hand on the back of his thigh, pressing it up, presumably to give her room, but absolutely unable to resist it and uncertain if he actually would if he could.
He presses his heel into the matress and sets his weight on it to keep it here, as it seems only polite to be as helpful as possible if she's going to suck on his fucking nuts.
She makes an appreciative sound (oh, you're welcome, he thinks dazedly), and her hand around his cock twists and squeezes hard at once. He groans and resists the urge to pump up into her fist; it's not so much that he's in a hurry as that he feels like he's gearing up, revving like an engine and waiting for her to step on the gas.
Her tongue presses firmly just behind his nuts, licks upward, presses again, and he doesn't really even have time to wonder if she's going to before she does, and he...
"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He twists a little, helpless not to, and he supposes blearily that it's allowable, understandable even, as he's never had a tongue in his arse before, and he had no bloody idea it would be enough to drag such an appalling whine from his throat or draw his balls up in such a clenching, painfully good fashion, and when her hand strokes up his cock again, still with the same steady, practiced pressure, its wet when it travels back down the shaft again, slick with something, either his own precome or lube maybe, but it's good, fucking great and he shoves his cock up and through her palm restlessly.
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She's sure Bill will appreciate.
She's briefly taken her hand off his cock to uncap the tube and squeeze out a palmful of it, all the while pushing her tongue in as deep as he'll let her, which isn't much right now, but she'll fix that. He groans when she takes both hand and mouth away for a second, but the groan is cut short on a choke when she slides two slick fingers along his balls to his asshole. She rubs at the tight muscles gently, propped up on her elbow so she can watch him.
He's gone completely silent, expectant, but his body is everything but still: tiny ripples of muscle in his thighs, his belly; the staccato heaving of his chest, the slight hitch in his hips. Keira pushes at the back of his thigh again, this time making his foot leave the mattress completely.
She pauses the gentle rubbing to apply, with the pads of her fingers, a bit of pressure where the skin is already slick with her spit, already a little loosened. His hole tightens a bit at the feeling, but admits the first knuckle of her finger easily enough.
She pauses, watching his face. "Bill?"
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"Bill?" she murmurs again, and her hand around his cock administers a gentle squeeze and then a long, slick pull, and breath he hadn't been aware of holding escapes past his lips with a hiss. She leans forward (he feels her weight on the edge of the bed, and the only thing he can think to do is curl his fists tighter into her comforter) and her tongue presses wetly against his nuts again. He shifts, breath catching uncomfortably in his throat at the oddity of the combination, the slick and heated pressure of her hand around his cock, the wet, soft barely there friction of her tongue on his nuts and the not painful, but not exactly pleasurable feel of her finger inside him, and he's pretty sure that's supposed to feel good (prostate, right? where exactly is that thing when he needs it), but instead it just feels weird. "Okay?" she murmurs right up agains his nuts, which causes and interstingly tickling vibration.
He shivers at her voice, husky and hopeful, and he can't tell her no. He just can't, and it's not like it hurts, and obviously she wants to and he wants her to have what she wants (although he sort of wishes she hadn't asked, had just done it, because he's finding the idea of actually saying it's okay with him if she jams a finger or two up his arse a bit unsettling). He manages a slightly garbled, "Aye, okay," and doesn't open his eyes.
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The tone of his voice, the tight lines of his mouth, and sudden clench around her finger; he's not quite enjoying it yet, and while she knows it's just a matter of relaxing into it, she doesn't like to see him that way. She slides out and offers a more comfortable, familiar kneading of his balls while she walks up and over him to settle an elbow on the mattress near his shoulder. He opens his eyes at his and looks directly at her, looking both painfully aroused and slightly panicked.
She smiles, small and real, before kissing him softly but deeply. His breath shivers shakily into hers and she waits for a calmer inhale before reaching past his balls again and just slicking her fingers over his hole again, without pressing in.
His teeth dig into her lip and he inhales sharply again, but he doesn't stop kissing her, and his cock twitches wetly against her stomach. One of his hands finally abandon the sheets to curl a little desperately at the back of her neck.
She smiles into his mouth, rubs her fingertips harder against the taut skin behind his balls. "Yeah. This better?"
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He slides his fingers up from her neck and into her hair -- he's not sure about the why, but having his fingers tangled in her hair is sexy, the way it feels is sexy and the way it makes her breathe, and the way it makes her look, eyes half-lidded and smoldering, when he tugs firmly with his fist full of warm, smooth strands of it -- and smiles a little at the way her teeth catch at her lip, and then ruins the sultry half-smile thing totally with a totally undignified gulping sound as she sweeps her thumb across his balls.
"Okay?" she asks, and presses just behind his balls, and why had he never known to do that, because wow, it's insanely good, sends heated, clenching shivers all the way up his spine, and the best he can do is another gulpy sounding groan, and she chuckles softly against his lips.
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"Will you let me touch you again?" His breath hitches against her mouth, and if there's reluctance in his non-answer, it's superceded by the evident spark her words are already kindling. She nudges his thigh higher with hers and he opens up without resistence, opens up for her, just as the muscles underneath her fingertips clench tightly, then loosen when she slides her tongue into his mouth again, licking hotly. "I want to be inside you, Bill, like that." She presses a fingertip against his hole again, intent but still not insistent yet. "Fuck you and suck your cock till you come screaming." He's stopped breathing again, and she nips at the prickly angle of his jaw, breathing the last word low. "Will you let me?"
Funny how even though she's the one asking, grammatically speaking, he's the one about to beg.
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"Aye," he breathes, and her mouth on his bites briefly, a sharp counterpoint of pain to the pleasure of her soft lips and gentle fingers, and then she moves down his body so quickly that he doesn't even have time (nor the presence of mind truthfully) to untangle his fingers from her hair.
When her mouth closes around his cock, his fist clenches tight and he's exerting pressure before he really knows it, pushing her down while his hips arch up. He thinks fleetingly that doing that isn't gentlemanly at all, but Jesus God, her mouth, and then she drags her teeth along the shaft of his cock just hard enough to both scare him and send a rocking pulse of pleasure straight to his balls, and he'd laugh if he could breathe (he recognizes a warning when he feels one, even during an amazing oral experience), but since he can't he just whines a little and opens his hand, which immediately goes back to the comforter and curls frantically around a slightly sweat-damp fold of it.
She murmurs -- wordlessly, of course -- and he shudders because that's, oh, that's amazing, yeah, and it seems like hours before he's able to drag a breath into his lungs (his vision actually seems to be darkening at the edges, but maybe that's his imagination, or does he have his eyes closed?), and realizes with utter shock, that she's managed to slide a finger inside him without him actually really noticing, had distracted him from being tense or uncertain with her talented (oh God, really really talented, ought to have it's own movie or something, except it sort of does, along with the rest of her talented parts, several of them actually) mouth, and now that he's aware of it, it feels neither bad nor weird (though he's willing to admit that evisceration probably wouldn't feel bad or weird as long as she sucked his cock while she did it), it feels...
"...oh..." he whispers, and feels his eyes go wide, sees the ceiling, white, but he can't focus enough to trace the cracks as he had before.
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Keira waits till the tension in Bill’s thighs and belly is just right, fits his cock snuggly against her tongue and pushes a little farther in and crooks her finger just so. Then Bill’s body does go still, completely still, more still than she’s honestly ever known it, and he lets out a small, “...Oh.”, croaked and weak and just what she was hoping for.
She pulls her mouth off him almost abruptly, his cock bobbing, wet and spit-shiny, against her cheek when she leans in, twisting her wrist again. There’s a tremor in his belly again, and his legs fall open completely on a muffled groan.
She’d be calling it reckless if she wasn’t so sure, for no real reason she can think of, of the reaction she’ll get. She clears her throat, kisses his cock softly, pulls mostly out and adds a second finger, not in yet but just there, promising more than offering. Rubs, pushes, rubs.
“I did this to Nic the first time we fucked. In Johnny’s bed, two hours after I met him,” she whispers with a smile against his thigh. She nips at it, licks. Slicks her fingers up again and slides, curls, pulls out. “He asked me and I did, because it was fucking hot, Bill. Watching him take it.”
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It's like discovering something utterly unanticipated, it's like finding her had been, almost, so unprecedented that he doesn't even know what to do with the feeling.
No wonder... he thinks, but the thought stalls out, and he's distracted by the feel of her lapping at the head of his cock, kitten-laps, just heat, almost no pressure at all, but it makes his eyes flutter and clench and want to roll into the back of his head. The pressure of her fingers is still here, still steady, but he understands that she's waiting for something, waiting for something from him, though he feels too overwhelmed, overpowered even, to think of what.
"Do you want me to ask?" he asks, and he might be uncomfortable with the way his voice sounds, unsteady and... something else, he doesn't know, surely not pleading, but he can't find it in himself to care at this moment. "I will if you want me to."
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At his strained silence, she applies a slow, thorough lick to his balls and a simultaneous slightly penetrating push of her fingertips.
"Dominic," she whispers against the shaky muscles of his thigh, "he likes to lie on his stomach when I fuck him like this. Sometimes he asks to be tied up. You'd like that, I bet, Nic tied up and speechless for once, gasping against the pillows. He loves to beg for it, Bill. Loves it. What is it you want, Bill?"
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He doesn't ask, though, because then she might answer, and at the moment he doesn't want to hear it. Doesn't want to talk at all, and doesn't want to hear her talking about Nic anymore, not because he's jealous (he's not, why would he be jealous of Nic for fuck's sake, bloke is about as threatening to Bill's masculinity as a sodding plush toy), but because it's just distracting and inexplicable, and he'd rather be fucking her, or, yeah, having her fuck him, and nevermind that the newness of that causes some kind of dissonant frission in both mind and body, two parts hotwhite need and one part nervy uncertainty.
She wants to, he wants her to, they're both adults and it's not like it's fucking illegal (or actually, strictly speaking it is, pretty much anything sodomy related is technically illegal, but that's another matter entirely, and besides, he doesn't think this actually qualifies as sodomy, and also, he doesn't fucking care), and he can't work out why his head is rushing like this at all.
"Quaen," he says, and finds it rather easier than expected to unfist one hand from her bedclothes to reach betwen their bodies and wrap it around her wrist. "Want you to shut up and fuck me."
She does shut up, but she also makes a soft, sort of hitching sound (which Bill feels oddly triumphant about, made the porn-star all hitch-y breathed, good show) as he tugs on her wrist, urges fingers forward and into his body, and there is a sharp moment of pain, likely brought on by his own clumsiness (he doesn't know what the fuck he is doing), which he doesn't have to ignore long because she moves, her wrist twisting and slippery in his grasp, because she knows exactly what she's doing, and then that same lurch of unexpectedly dazzling clenchneedpleasure.
"Ah, fuck," he hears himself say faintly.
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"Can't beg and boss around at the same time, Bill." She shakes his hand off hers completely, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to push both fingers in deep as she says, "And if you're done with me I'll just go have that cake now."
She knows it won't take much now, and that if he does beg she can finish him off in a minute flat, if that. But this won't do, the Bill way he said that, half plea half order. Won't have that.
There's a moment where neither of them speak, but the air is charged, electric, like there's a storm gathering outside making their very bodies crackle with it.
Keira pushes in further and crooks her fingers again, going for the prize, and simultaneously pushes her thumb again the back of his balls.
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There is a pause, like she's waiting for something, and her breath is ghosting hotly across the tightly aching shaft of his cock. He isn't sure if she thinks he doesn't mean it, or if maybe she thinks it was an accident, or if maybe she just gets off on watching him tremble (God knows he gets off on watching her tremble), but she doesn't move and he isn't sure how much more of this he can take. At this point, the bits of his brain still functioning (minimal at best) are leaning toward just getting up and grabbing her, pushing her down and pushing in just to fucking feel her, and maybe that makes his voice a little more desperate than it might otherwise be, or maybe he honestly is that desperate, when he murmurs, "Keira, for God's sake, please."
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Ah, here we go.
Keira can't help feeling a little triumphant, reducing him to this. Besides, he asked for it.
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