Precisely Diverting
Title: Precisely Diverting
Author: Angel Leviathan
Disclaimer: Wicked, the characters, concept, etc, isn't mine.
Rating: R
Verse: Book
Prompt Name: Graduation
Summary: It was the unspoken rule: she didn’t mention his wife and he didn’t mention Glinda.
Notes: None.
She knew he had waited until the moment he knew she would be unable to protest or form decent argument. Elphaba certainly didn’t want to have the conversation at all and she knew he had noticed how she tended to shut down upon hearing tales from after she had left them all to it at university. She occasionally asked careful questions and expected careful answers. Well-aware that what was currently occurring was a planned... well, a planned something (seduction was too fanciful a word for his determination to distract her mind with her body) she made every effort to resist.
“She expected you to be at her graduation, you know.”
She was nameless and not. About to utter something scathing, the very second following her words were stolen away, replaced by a breath of air desperately dragged in and the feel of the flick of his tongue right where she had - in some great traitorous action of body over mind - let it be known might render her incoherent. He kept his hands where she could see them, of course, presently digging bruises at her hips, but his mouth... Well, somewhere along the way, that had become another matter entirely.
Elphaba groaned as much at his touch as for the betrayal of her body, as her hips bucked sharply, unbidden and beyond her control. She closed her eyes to prevent her being witness to her own want and grabbed at the sheet beneath her as if it might ground her and remind her that that a world existed away from the terrifying need that blinded her to all but him.
“She kept glancing about, this way and that, as if you might appear from somewhere.”
“’Yero...” she breathed, trying to form some kind of protest. She heard a sudden cry, her own voice twisted high and utterly feminine as she felt his lips close and pressure build, only to be halted abruptly as his attention strayed and drew a long, shuddering sigh from her instead.
“She would never admit it.”
“...Don’t.”
He sounded immeasurably smug in the moment he uttered, “Don’t what?” and she swore she could feel his satisfied smirk, not merely know of its presence even through her self-imposed darkness.
“Stop,” Elphaba insisted, barely able to concentrate on anything but the slow rhythm she could feel beginning to fall together: calculated friction he knew never failed to reduce her to low moans, coupled with lips closing tight around sensitive nerves, making her cry out but not quite, not quite...
It was the unspoken rule: she didn’t mention his wife and he didn’t mention Glinda. It was somehow acceptable to reference her as part of a group - when there were no specifics and it was just Glinda, like it was just Crope or just Avaric - but she was not to be remembered; not to be analyzed, only exist. Vengeance would be exacted in the morning, when she would let him sleepily explore and then make him leave unsatisfied.
“She cried when she thought we weren’t looking.”
“Stop,” she begged, because she really shouldn’t - couldn’t - be thinking of Glinda when he was determined to tear a scream from her. His fingers clawed more forcefully at her hips and his thoughtful hum of a note as he dropped his head once more resonated right through her, enough to leave her arching from the bed as one slow, hard stroke of his tongue sent her over the edge.
She knew he watched her, as he always did, during those moments in which all sense left her and she was undeniably his. It had unnerved her to begin with, but if she was to let him render her so, then what gave her the right to deny him? As if detached from her body, Elphaba felt her rocking hips slow as he ceased attempts to draw softer cries from her; heard her own voice fade and a low growl from him as he crawled up her body to drop lips to one breast as he entered her.
The mewing noise was most certainly not her, Elphaba decided, nor was the gasp and hitch of breath as he moved too soon and made her arch involuntarily. He waited then, trembling with the effort to stay still, nuzzling at her neck and murmuring under his breath.
“Didn’t you want to make sure she made it through?”
She rolled her hips as she wrapped her legs around him. Patience be damned. She didn’t want time to think.
“Didn’t you want to see her? See Nessa, too?”
Elphaba flexed, tensing muscles in a move that made him cry out in a hoarse voice and nip at her jaw. Determined not to echo his cry, she dug her nails firmly into his back as he began to rock against and into her. She found him content to be silent as far as sensible words went - bar her name - as his mouth found hers and need rather than careful thought claimed him. Her voice rose again, over the low sounds of desperate want that spilled from him, and she tensed once more, sooner than she expected, only jolted back to reality by his loud cry and the rough jerk of his hips as he lost control.
It was only when she knew he didn’t care for a response that she offered her false one, as he lay over her, spent and gasping for breath.
“No.”
Fin
Author: Angel Leviathan
Disclaimer: Wicked, the characters, concept, etc, isn't mine.
Rating: R
Verse: Book
Prompt Name: Graduation
Summary: It was the unspoken rule: she didn’t mention his wife and he didn’t mention Glinda.
Notes: None.
She knew he had waited until the moment he knew she would be unable to protest or form decent argument. Elphaba certainly didn’t want to have the conversation at all and she knew he had noticed how she tended to shut down upon hearing tales from after she had left them all to it at university. She occasionally asked careful questions and expected careful answers. Well-aware that what was currently occurring was a planned... well, a planned something (seduction was too fanciful a word for his determination to distract her mind with her body) she made every effort to resist.
“She expected you to be at her graduation, you know.”
She was nameless and not. About to utter something scathing, the very second following her words were stolen away, replaced by a breath of air desperately dragged in and the feel of the flick of his tongue right where she had - in some great traitorous action of body over mind - let it be known might render her incoherent. He kept his hands where she could see them, of course, presently digging bruises at her hips, but his mouth... Well, somewhere along the way, that had become another matter entirely.
Elphaba groaned as much at his touch as for the betrayal of her body, as her hips bucked sharply, unbidden and beyond her control. She closed her eyes to prevent her being witness to her own want and grabbed at the sheet beneath her as if it might ground her and remind her that that a world existed away from the terrifying need that blinded her to all but him.
“She kept glancing about, this way and that, as if you might appear from somewhere.”
“’Yero...” she breathed, trying to form some kind of protest. She heard a sudden cry, her own voice twisted high and utterly feminine as she felt his lips close and pressure build, only to be halted abruptly as his attention strayed and drew a long, shuddering sigh from her instead.
“She would never admit it.”
“...Don’t.”
He sounded immeasurably smug in the moment he uttered, “Don’t what?” and she swore she could feel his satisfied smirk, not merely know of its presence even through her self-imposed darkness.
“Stop,” Elphaba insisted, barely able to concentrate on anything but the slow rhythm she could feel beginning to fall together: calculated friction he knew never failed to reduce her to low moans, coupled with lips closing tight around sensitive nerves, making her cry out but not quite, not quite...
It was the unspoken rule: she didn’t mention his wife and he didn’t mention Glinda. It was somehow acceptable to reference her as part of a group - when there were no specifics and it was just Glinda, like it was just Crope or just Avaric - but she was not to be remembered; not to be analyzed, only exist. Vengeance would be exacted in the morning, when she would let him sleepily explore and then make him leave unsatisfied.
“She cried when she thought we weren’t looking.”
“Stop,” she begged, because she really shouldn’t - couldn’t - be thinking of Glinda when he was determined to tear a scream from her. His fingers clawed more forcefully at her hips and his thoughtful hum of a note as he dropped his head once more resonated right through her, enough to leave her arching from the bed as one slow, hard stroke of his tongue sent her over the edge.
She knew he watched her, as he always did, during those moments in which all sense left her and she was undeniably his. It had unnerved her to begin with, but if she was to let him render her so, then what gave her the right to deny him? As if detached from her body, Elphaba felt her rocking hips slow as he ceased attempts to draw softer cries from her; heard her own voice fade and a low growl from him as he crawled up her body to drop lips to one breast as he entered her.
The mewing noise was most certainly not her, Elphaba decided, nor was the gasp and hitch of breath as he moved too soon and made her arch involuntarily. He waited then, trembling with the effort to stay still, nuzzling at her neck and murmuring under his breath.
“Didn’t you want to make sure she made it through?”
She rolled her hips as she wrapped her legs around him. Patience be damned. She didn’t want time to think.
“Didn’t you want to see her? See Nessa, too?”
Elphaba flexed, tensing muscles in a move that made him cry out in a hoarse voice and nip at her jaw. Determined not to echo his cry, she dug her nails firmly into his back as he began to rock against and into her. She found him content to be silent as far as sensible words went - bar her name - as his mouth found hers and need rather than careful thought claimed him. Her voice rose again, over the low sounds of desperate want that spilled from him, and she tensed once more, sooner than she expected, only jolted back to reality by his loud cry and the rough jerk of his hips as he lost control.
It was only when she knew he didn’t care for a response that she offered her false one, as he lay over her, spent and gasping for breath.
“No.”
Fin