He curls his fingers into fists. If he could somehow melt into the wood behind him he would. As things stand though, Tatsu is backed up against the wall with nowhere else to go. Who knew that four-inch high heels could make such a difference in Miki's height.
"I'm not attracted to you at all, you know." He manages to grit out the words even as the spirit inhabting Miki's body presses up against him, a dangerously sly smile spreading on her lips.
"Oh I know," the creature says in Miki's voice; not that Miki would talk in that tone, or wear that sorry excuse for a dress. "But I can smell your attraction, your arousal to this body. So, tell me, boy. Why not just give in?"
Smut/Kink
"Miki," Tatsuya whispers, fingers curling around her wrists. "Miki, get a hold of yourself." He moves her hands away, but she presses close, her mouth fastening on his.
"I need..."
He swallows a groan as her lips move to his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He shudders when her tongue flicks against his skin, his fingers losing their grip on her hands.
It's like liquid fire. It needs to burn out on its own. If you try to smother it, you'll only make it worse.
"I am so sorry," he whispers harshly before he cups her face in his hands and kisses her full on the mouth. He is, and he also isn't. He's spent too many nights staring at the ceiling after waking from some half-remembered dream that involved her and him and this.
Her hands are surprisingly clever as they slip under his shirt, her thumbs kneading the sides of his stomach. For a moment he feels a lance of jealousy shoot through him because they've never spoken about the people she's known from the time she was away.
He maneuvers them to the couch, his fingers threading through her hair, palms skimming down her back. When she makes a move to shed her clothes, he catches her hands in his and presses his lips to her palms.
"I want..."
He hushes her, guiding her onto his lap, his mouth pressing against hers.
She tastes so sweet, he wants to preserve that sweetness. The last thing he wants is for them to be at odds in the morning. Right now, its the potion that has set fire to the blood in her veins. Right now, it's not her acting of her own accord but because an aphrodisiac was slipped in her drink or her food.
"Why are you doing this? Why won't you--" He finds himself surprised at the bite in her voice and the way her fingers fist in his hair before she crushes her mouth against his, her tongue tasting the inside of his mouth. "I thought, when you kissed me I thought--"
The frustration is a low purr in her throat that goes straight to the pit of his stomach and Tatsuya gives in and drags her closer, as if it were not enough that they are pressed against each other like this.
"I'm not made of glass, Tatsu..."
He doesn't tell her that he knows. Instead, he smoothes his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks and kisses her again before he turns the tables so that she is beneath him, her hair falling against the cushions.
He's dreamt of this far too often for him to deny that he thinks of her that way no matter what else he says. He smoothes a hand over her stomach, a gentle pressure against the softness of her.
He's had women before. Not as many as some would think, but enough for him to know his limits, his preferences and inclinations. He knows full well that he is not a patient lover, but when his hands tremble as he catches the backs of her knees, he thinks that maybe it was that he was impatient for the real thing; the one that mattered, as if every other opportunity were just steps in a long flight of stairs leading up to this.
He curls his fingers into fists. If he could somehow melt into the wood behind him he would. As things stand though, Tatsu is backed up against the wall with nowhere else to go. Who knew that four-inch high heels could make such a difference in Miki's height.
"I'm not attracted to you at all, you know." He manages to grit out the words even as the spirit inhabting Miki's body presses up against him, a dangerously sly smile spreading on her lips.
"Oh I know," the creature says in Miki's voice; not that Miki would talk in that tone, or wear that sorry excuse for a dress. "But I can smell your attraction, your arousal to this body. So, tell me, boy. Why not just give in?"
Smut/Kink
"Miki," Tatsuya whispers, fingers curling around her wrists. "Miki, get a hold of yourself." He moves her hands away, but she presses close, her mouth fastening on his.
"I need..."
He swallows a groan as her lips move to his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He shudders when her tongue flicks against his skin, his fingers losing their grip on her hands.
It's like liquid fire. It needs to burn out on its own. If you try to smother it, you'll only make it worse.
"I am so sorry," he whispers harshly before he cups her face in his hands and kisses her full on the mouth. He is, and he also isn't. He's spent too many nights staring at the ceiling after waking from some half-remembered dream that involved her and him and this.
Her hands are surprisingly clever as they slip under his shirt, her thumbs kneading the sides of his stomach. For a moment he feels a lance of jealousy shoot through him because they've never spoken about the people she's known from the time she was away.
He maneuvers them to the couch, his fingers threading through her hair, palms skimming down her back. When she makes a move to shed her clothes, he catches her hands in his and presses his lips to her palms.
"I want..."
He hushes her, guiding her onto his lap, his mouth pressing against hers.
She tastes so sweet, he wants to preserve that sweetness. The last thing he wants is for them to be at odds in the morning. Right now, its the potion that has set fire to the blood in her veins. Right now, it's not her acting of her own accord but because an aphrodisiac was slipped in her drink or her food.
"Why are you doing this? Why won't you--" He finds himself surprised at the bite in her voice and the way her fingers fist in his hair before she crushes her mouth against his, her tongue tasting the inside of his mouth. "I thought, when you kissed me I thought--"
The frustration is a low purr in her throat that goes straight to the pit of his stomach and Tatsuya gives in and drags her closer, as if it were not enough that they are pressed against each other like this.
"I'm not made of glass, Tatsu..."
He doesn't tell her that he knows. Instead, he smoothes his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks and kisses her again before he turns the tables so that she is beneath him, her hair falling against the cushions.
He's dreamt of this far too often for him to deny that he thinks of her that way no matter what else he says. He smoothes a hand over her stomach, a gentle pressure against the softness of her.
He's had women before. Not as many as some would think, but enough for him to know his limits, his preferences and inclinations. He knows full well that he is not a patient lover, but when his hands tremble as he catches the backs of her knees, he thinks that maybe it was that he was impatient for the real thing; the one that mattered, as if every other opportunity were just steps in a long flight of stairs leading up to this.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment