create [suzaku/kallen][s/a]
Slowly she leans forward, pressing their noses together. His eyes open lazily, yet there is urgency. Green and blue mix and she kisses him, feverish. He’s inside her now, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. He sucks her bottom lip into his mouth and nibbles carefully, and slowly, she takes her hands from his hips and guides them up the strong contours of his chest.
Once her hands move, his hips jerk, and the sloppy kiss breaks and she gasps. He’s completely inside of her and their bare chests and pressed together. She can feel the sweat, a sheen on her body, and she’s never felt this way before. But all too soon they have gathered up a natural rhythm, a slow pace, slipping down as he pushes up, and vice versa.
She’s shocked because she can already feel the pleasure in the pit of her stomach, coiling, heat in her face and patches of skin flushed. The pace quickens, but no words are spoken. He moans once or twice, quiet though, held back. She bites hard on her lip, and she thinks it might bleed. She doesn’t look down, but keeps her eyes shut, clutching his shoulders.
He presses a soft kiss to her collarbone and she gasps. Her thighs are quivering, positioned next to his, and she’s aching all over. Her back arches and her hair sticks to her forehead, and she finds her eyes half-opened despite an attempt not to see. They’re both thrusting shallowly and she finally lets herself moan softly, surprised at the sudden build up as she comes.
He’s surprised too, and his hands rest gently on her waist, and she’s surprised by the subtle touch. She can feel herself clenching around him, both of their gentle moans glancing off the walls. He comes too, but she doesn’t feel it because he bothered with a condom. They bothered with a condom. She thinks about the phrase for a moment as they both catch their breath, feeling the last clenches of her orgasm. Thinks about them as something more than just two separate entities, two people mixed up in this crazy world.
He’s careful and shockingly gentle, lifting her body off of him and she cries out softly because she can feel the sudden ache. He swears and she crawls away from him, opening her eyes.
Zero’s room is still dark, the only light the dim sun managing to shine through the curtain. She reaches for her panties and slips them on, trying to ignore the blood drops on the sheets. “Sorry,” she whispers weakly, and she can still hear his pants on the other side of the bed. She closes her eyes again and sits on the edge of the bed, letting her feet touch the floor.
“You…didn’t say…you were…a virgin…” he whispers, and she feels herself earnestly blushing.
“Sorry,” she murmurs again, reaching for her bra lying on the floor and fumbling to clip it. She fails and warm hands touch her shoulders, working the clip perfectly. She takes a breath and turns her head slightly, looking back at him. His green eyes are warm but a little tense. His chest is still tan and muscular, despite the fact that he never goes out anymore.
She blinks and realizes she’s crying. A sob bubbles up in her chest and chokes her, and she lets her chin fall to her chest. She continues to cry, half twisted to be turned towards him, and warm hands are on the sides of her face, caressing gently, wiping away her tears with calloused thumbs.
He keeps one comforting hand on her cheek and reaches out for the rest of her clothes - a black tank top, a dark skirt. He helps her redress and sits there, still naked.
Their eyes connect again and she leans forwards and kisses him, before standing and slipping out of the room.
They could only create for so long.
Once her hands move, his hips jerk, and the sloppy kiss breaks and she gasps. He’s completely inside of her and their bare chests and pressed together. She can feel the sweat, a sheen on her body, and she’s never felt this way before. But all too soon they have gathered up a natural rhythm, a slow pace, slipping down as he pushes up, and vice versa.
She’s shocked because she can already feel the pleasure in the pit of her stomach, coiling, heat in her face and patches of skin flushed. The pace quickens, but no words are spoken. He moans once or twice, quiet though, held back. She bites hard on her lip, and she thinks it might bleed. She doesn’t look down, but keeps her eyes shut, clutching his shoulders.
He presses a soft kiss to her collarbone and she gasps. Her thighs are quivering, positioned next to his, and she’s aching all over. Her back arches and her hair sticks to her forehead, and she finds her eyes half-opened despite an attempt not to see. They’re both thrusting shallowly and she finally lets herself moan softly, surprised at the sudden build up as she comes.
He’s surprised too, and his hands rest gently on her waist, and she’s surprised by the subtle touch. She can feel herself clenching around him, both of their gentle moans glancing off the walls. He comes too, but she doesn’t feel it because he bothered with a condom. They bothered with a condom. She thinks about the phrase for a moment as they both catch their breath, feeling the last clenches of her orgasm. Thinks about them as something more than just two separate entities, two people mixed up in this crazy world.
He’s careful and shockingly gentle, lifting her body off of him and she cries out softly because she can feel the sudden ache. He swears and she crawls away from him, opening her eyes.
Zero’s room is still dark, the only light the dim sun managing to shine through the curtain. She reaches for her panties and slips them on, trying to ignore the blood drops on the sheets. “Sorry,” she whispers weakly, and she can still hear his pants on the other side of the bed. She closes her eyes again and sits on the edge of the bed, letting her feet touch the floor.
“You…didn’t say…you were…a virgin…” he whispers, and she feels herself earnestly blushing.
“Sorry,” she murmurs again, reaching for her bra lying on the floor and fumbling to clip it. She fails and warm hands touch her shoulders, working the clip perfectly. She takes a breath and turns her head slightly, looking back at him. His green eyes are warm but a little tense. His chest is still tan and muscular, despite the fact that he never goes out anymore.
She blinks and realizes she’s crying. A sob bubbles up in her chest and chokes her, and she lets her chin fall to her chest. She continues to cry, half twisted to be turned towards him, and warm hands are on the sides of her face, caressing gently, wiping away her tears with calloused thumbs.
He keeps one comforting hand on her cheek and reaches out for the rest of her clothes - a black tank top, a dark skirt. He helps her redress and sits there, still naked.
Their eyes connect again and she leans forwards and kisses him, before standing and slipping out of the room.
They could only create for so long.