[log] Noitora, Cuarta
Title: A Shoulder to Cry On
Characters: Cuarta (kendraxplague), Noitora (supahukevaizard)
Timeline: November 28, 2006
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: Noitora comes across a drunk, distraught Cuarta while dropping off homework. Porn ensues.
Noitora hadn't been best pleased when Aizen had presented him with a smile and a folder of homework Cuarta had missed that day. While bugging Cuarta was usually top of his to-do list, he just hadn't been in the mood, and guessed she would be even less happy to see him.
Apparently, today was her mother's 'death day', as it had been referred to, and Aizen had permitted Cuarta have the day off if she caught up on her work. So Noitora had been reduced to an errand boy, delivering this folder of work so that she could do sums and essays on the most depressing day of the year.
Sometimes, Noitora felt Aizen was actually Beelzebub.
He knocked on Cuarta's door and waited for her to answer, annoyed that he'd already missed the first half of House so that he could come here. Knowing her, all he'd get would be a spiteful glare and a door slammed in his face.
He knocked again, harder this time, and came close to shouting when he heard something smash in the hallway just behind the door. His eyebrows raised and he stepped back a little, not wanting to be hit by a flying blunt object.
Cuarta hated seeming weak. She hated crying, she hated missing school, and most of all, she hated having to ask permission to stay home from her teachers. Her mother had been dead for about four years now -- why couldn't she just let it go?
It was difficult, though, when she looked at her life now. Her father couldn't look at her, and had become so distant that he didn't even know what classes Cuarta was taking, or what she liked to do. Cuarta had very few friends, which also added to her loneliness -- and it made her miss her mother more than ever.
Her father wasn't even around. He never was, not on this day. He would go back to Hollywood and visit his wife's grave without his daughter, leaving her to mourn alone.
And mourn she did. She'd already gone through two beers and half a bottle of Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whiskey, and the floor was spinning. She luckily hadn't gotten around to crying just yet, but she was perilously close to it, her eyes red and shiny. She hadn't gotten dressed all day, and was still wearing her pyjamas, a pair of shorts and an old, white tank top.
She obviously hadn't expected anyone to stop by, and so when she heard the knock on the door, she thought she was merely imagining things. But the knocking persisted, and in her haste to reach the door, she knocked over one of the empty bottles of beer, cursing as it shattered and one of the shards cut into the top of her foot.
Cuarta opened the door, and her heart sank. Noitora. The last person she would ever have wanted to see -- he'd just be an asshole, and she didn't need that right now. "Can I help you?" she asked dully.
Noitora was surprised to say the least when Cuarta opened the door. The sight of blood on her foot almost made him worry, before he remembered this was no normal woman standing before him. Still, the fact that she was obviously upset did tug at his slightly withered heartstrings, and he moved his foot so that she couldn't close the door in his face just yet.
"I have this work for you." he stated dully, holding out the folder. "You're drunk off yer ass. Why?"
Genuine concern showed in his one good eye, even if it was helped a little by his improving acting skills. Even though his first thought wasn't that Noitora could turn this to his advantage, his subconcious was a sharper one than he, and he intended to see where this would go.
She stared at the folder, as though trying to figure out what work it could possibly be for, then took it, fingers shaking. "Thank you," she replied. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now, as if that wasn't horribly obvious.
"Why does it matter?" she inquired in that same, lifeless tone, stepping away from Noitora. "And I'm not drunk." The ground only looked like it was tilted at a bizarre angle, that was all.
Noitora rolled his eye and stepped forward over the threshold, holding up his hands to show her he wasn't trying to be threatening.
"Listen, Cuarta, I know drunk, I've seen it far too many times, and right now your head must be spinning. Why don't you sit down and I'll get you some nice, cold water?"
He was slightly horrified by the kind tone in his usual mirthless voice but pushed the thought away, knowing at least somewhat how it felt to be abandoned by one's family.
Cuarta wasn't sure if Noitora was actually trying to be nice or not, but at this point in time, she hardly cared. He was right, she noticed mournfully. The scenery was spinning, and it was making her faintly dizzy.
"All right," she said at long last, heading towards the couch in the living room. It was the nearest place she could sit, and she did so, wiping the blood from her foot. "Kitchen's to the left. If -- if the maid is in there, tell her I want her to go home, please."
She wasn't used to being this polite to people like Noitora, but considering her current condition, she hardly seemed to be aware of this change.
Noitora chuckled softly at the mention of a 'maid' but made sure Cuarta couldn't hear, shrugging off his jacket and striding into the kitchen after laying it over a chair. There wasn't a woman in sight but an apron was hanging on the back of the door, so he guessed that meant she wasn't home.
The kitchen was huge and Noitora felt almost dwarfed by it, flailing mentally at the thought of where he should even look for a glass. He would shout for Cuarta but didn't think she's appreciate that in her current state, so instead grabbed what he hoped was a clean glass from the side of the sink and filled it with water dispensable from the fridge door. He dumped a couple of ice cubes into it for good measure and walked back into the living room, offering the glass to Cuarta.
"Drink it slowly or you'll get brain freeze." he stated, before sitting on an armchair next to the couch.
Even if the glass hadn't been particularly clean, Cuarta would not have noticed it. A dirty cup was the last thing on her mind, that was for sure.
She nodded, then winced as the floor continued to spin. "Thank you," she muttered again, sipping it slowly. It did make her feel a little better, though not much. "I ... you needn't stay."
At this point, she wasn't even sure whether she wanted company or not. Yeah, she was lonely, but she didn't want anyone to see her in this state, either.
Noitora scoffed and waved his hand at her to dismiss the comment, reaching over to take the bottle of whiskey and enjoy a deep gulp, wincing a little as his throat burned from the harsh liquid. "I've seen you now, so you don't need to be embarassed about anything. I should stay in case you fall over and choke on your own vomit, mmkay?"
He smiled a little to try and show her that he wasn't serious, remembering he had told her to never treat him as such, and reached out a tentative hand to pat her arm. "Would you like some aspirin? Your kitchen is fucking huge but I'm sure I'll find it eventually."
Cuarta flushed, but said nothing. If Noitora wanted to stay, it didn't appear that there was anything she could do to stop him.
The maid entered the room, then, coat draped over her arm. "Miss Halibel, I'm taking my leave now," she said respectfully. "Is there anything you need before I go?"
Cuarta frowned at the mention of her real first name, but thought better of telling the woman off. "Aspirin," she muttered. Now, at least Noitora wouldn't have to find it. The woman nodded, disappearing for a moment before coming back with the whole bottle.
"I'll be back in the morning," the maid informed her, and left the house quickly. Cuarta didn't blame her. If anything happened to her, such as if she drank too much, at least she wouldn't be held responsible.
She took two aspirin, swallowing them down with water, then placed the bottle on the table beside her, resting her face in her hands. "Don't tell anyone about this," she said, an almost pleading edge to her voice as she finally looked up at him. "I'm not weak. I don't want anyone to think that I am."
Noitora watched as the maid produced aspirin and Cuarta swallowed them down quickly, not saying anything about the mention of her first name and merely locking it away for future-annoying. However, right now he didn't think she deserved teasing.
He simply shrugged languidly and settled back in the comfortable armchair, legs stretching out in front of him. "I won't tell anyone. They know you aren't weak, but I'm sure some of our less savoury club members would like some ammunition against you." usually, this would include him, but tonight he was nice Noitora.
"I know you're not weak." he repeated, glancing over at her as if to reinforce the point. Maybe talking like this would help sober her up.
"Good," she mumbled. "Because I'm not." Being drunk was possibly Cuarta's least favourite thing in the world to be, mainly because she sounded like a fool when she spoke and looked like an idiot (or perhaps even a slut) when she acted.
Despite Noitora's assurances, she did feel weak -- horribly and utterly weak -- and perhaps that was the reason that Cuarta spoke again, voice muffled by her hands. "He leaves ever year at this time to visit the grave without me. He acts like he's the only one who misses her. And that -- that's not true. It would be nice if he could acknowledge that I'm still alive, too, every once in a while." She shuddered, struggling to keep the tears at bay.
No. She would not cry -- not even when she was completely drunk off her ass and couldn't control herself at all.
Noitora just couldn't find the words to say. Unsurprisingly, comforting had never been his strong point, and he seemed to be clutching at straws.
He leant forward on his knees and reached out to pat her arm again, stoking softly in an attempt to at least comfort her physically. The way her body appeared to be shaking didn't encourage him that it was exactly working though.
"Hey, listen to me. You're a damn strong woman, I know 'cuz I've seen it first hand. Instead of sittin' here on yer ass and drinking you should take initiative. Tell your sad excuse for a father that you want to visit the grave with him. An' if he doesn't accept that, go yourself. Show him he can't beat you."
With that probably useless speech out of the way he took a deep breath and hung his head, taking his eyes off her. He actually felt a little embarassed at going off on a tirade like that, but a small part of him really hoped it would help.
She glanced up, red-eyed and a bit surprised at his words. Through the haze of alcohol, she wondered with the rational part of her brain why she had never tried doing such a thing before.
Perhaps she was simply so used to her father ignoring her that she never even tried anymore.
Noitora had a point, though, and the hand stroking her arm was comforting. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, fingers curling into his sleeve. "Thank you," she said in a voice that was nearly a whisper. "Stay a while longer. Please."
This was the point in Noitora's life when he could see a whole myriad of bad situations unfurling before him. He glanced down as though a tarantula had just started climbing up his arm, nervously patting Cuarta's hand. "Er...you...uh." the part of his brain controlled by his penis was starting to kick in, which unfortunately meant the function usually used for talking was left by the wayside.
He smiled weakly, fighting an inner battle against his teenage needs. "If that's...what you want. But, er...don't hate me or anything, okay? Cuz...you know..." He gulped and looked away from her, trying not to focus on how her shorts were riding up her toned thighs, or how her current position made it plainly clear that she wasn't wearing a bra. He gulped and burried his face in his free hand, wondering why he let these things happen to him.
Cuarta hardly listened to what he was saying. Drunk and distraught, her logic had flown out the window some time ago, and it was mostly because of this lack of rational thought that her lips found Noitora's throat.
It wasn't a very obvious action. It was light, more of an invitation than anything. Chances were that like any other teenaged male in his position, Noitora would have a difficult time ignoring this.
He felt his mouth fall open as the gentle caress of Cuarta's dry lips tickled along his skin. She...would definately kill him for this. Even if he just sat here and let her ravage him (which was a very inviting thought, actually), she'd find some way to pin the situation on him. And thus, he reasoned, it was a lose-lose situation. He might as well make the best of it.
He didn't move away from Cuarta's lips, merely twisted so that one elegant hand could find it's way down her ribcage and over the gentle rise of one hip, pushing up her tank top a little to stroke the dark skin now bared to him.
"You realise what you're doing, don't you?" he asked gently, knowing he'd surely regret it if she came to her senses now.
She made a small noise in the back of her throat in what sounded much like assent. Yes, of course she realized what she was doing. She was with Noitora and would probably end up having sex with him. Aside from that? No, she honestly had no idea at all.
She didn't stop what she was doing, however, and instead merely moved her hand so her fingers were not holding the fabric of his shirt so tightly. Shifting a bit on the couch, her mouth moved upwards, trailing up to his jaw. Cuarta needed and wanted this -- and whether it was Noitora or not ... well, at the moment, she couldn't care less who it was.
He shrugged and decided he'd given her enough of a chance, moving so that he could wrap his arms around her and pull her to him, trying to position her in his lap as he lay back in the armchair. His hands slid over her back, pressed in and kneaded the taught muscles there, before travelling lower, playfully flicking the elastic of her pyjama shorts. Granted, it might earn him a harsh glare, but it was worth it.
He then moved to her thighs, squeezing them gently as he had spent many a night imagining, not wanting to push her too fast too soon in case she got cold feet.
She got the idea quickly and moved so she was straddling his lap. She didn't seem to be at all annoyed about the movement of his hands, and in fact seemed to encourage him.
Her own hands slipped down until they were at the hem of his shirt, sliding underneath to trace over pale skin and muscle. Cuarta could properly appreciate the fact that yes, Noitora was an awful prick, but he did have a nice body, and that made everything else pale in comparison, at least for the moment.
The weight of her body against his enticed a husky groan from Noitora's throat. He so badly wanted to strip her and have his way with her, but that wouldn't do. For this to work properly he had to let her set the pace, no matter how frustrating it would be for him. Still, he guessed it would be worth the wait if his fantasies were anything like the truth.
He glanced down as her smaller hands hid themselves under his shirt, and hissed pleasure as her fingertips, calloused and rough from training, travelled over his skin. He reached down to tug the annoyance off and toss it to one side, running his hands up her arms to knead her shoulders.
Although Noitora seemed to be facing a rather difficult dilemma, Cuarta was unconcerned with any of it, and was moving at a steady pace. When Noitora's shirt came off, she wasted no time and instead leaned down to suck lightly on his collarbone.
Perhaps it was because she was fully clothed and he was not, but Cuarta felt as though she held the majority of control in this situation. Of course, this was only for now -- there was no doubt that Noitora would take over soon -- but it gave her a feeling of not being at the mercy of anyone else, even if she was drunk out of her mind.
Noitora began to realise that Cuarta, being in the state she was, was not looking for gentle, passionate sex. As he felt his skin prickle and burn beneath her lips he brought his hands up to cup her full breasts, thumbs rubbing over her hardening nipples and he massaged the soft flesh under his palms. He began to feel his arousal press painfully at his jeans, moving his hips in an attempt to grind against her for some friction, at least, to relieve some of the pressure.
She did not stop his grinding, and instead actually welcomed the friction. Cuarta gasped almost inaudibly, wriggling out of her shirt as Noitora's hands squeezed and massaged her breasts. They were both half-unclothed now, and she pulled her mouth away from his skin.
Instead of stopping completely, though, she pressed the heel of her hand onto his crotch, feeling the heat even through two layers of fabric.
He grunted with pleasure and let his head loll back; closing his eyes to concentrate on the sensations she was gracing him with. He let his hands wander blindly over her exposed skin, warm to the touch yet smooth and soft, the opposite to his, really. He gazed at her with his one good eye, slipping a hand down to push into her shorts and press against the slick warmth between her thighs, repaying her for the welcome pressure on his aching member.
"Fuck, Cuarta..." he breathed, smirking in a way she must have been used to, "Didn't think I could make you feel this good."
She looked him in the eye as he spoke, a flicker of sober annoyance showing on her face. It was gone in an instant, luckily for Noitora. Had she been in her right mind, she would have pushed him away and told him to go home, but as it was, she had no mind to do such a thing.
"You're taking too long," was the only thing she said, unbuttoning his pants with one hand, the other bracing herself on the back of the armchair.
"Or maybe you're just impatient?" he countered, but complied with her none-the-less. He pushed his hips up and aided her in pushing down his pants as well as his underwear, trying to tug down her shorts as much as their positions would allow. He held her ass with one hand to steady her and leered up at her, leaning forward to flick his tongue over one pert nipple while his free hand slid up her inner thigh, two fingers pushing into her opening suddenly to try and quench her thirst for pleasure.
"Possibly," she acknowledged, though said nothing more on the topic. She was far too preoccuppied with the attention she was receiving, her head falling back as she felt fingers enter her and wetness engulf one nipple.
She'd forgotten how good this felt. She hadn't had sex with anyone since ... well, she didn't even know when the last time had been.
Attempting to think through this onslaught of sensation was difficult, but she remembered enough to pull down his boxers and pants a bit further before her fingers moved to encircle his now-obvious erection.
This was getting too much for Noitora. While her heavier breathing and the feeling of her body surrounding him was quite delectable, Noitora had never been one to hold out on his own pleasure for too long. He moved both hands to hold her hips tightly, blunt nails digging into her skin as he tugged her closer to him, the head of his member pressing against her as he attempted to bring her down around him.
By now his mind was blank, only processing her feel and taste and smell. His mouth still worked over her breast, nibbling gently before kissing across to the other, giving it the same treatment with his lips and tongue.
Cuarta was just as eager to get on with it as Noitora was, and so did not complain when he began to get restless. She shifted slightly, guiding him into her, slowly moving so she was completely straddling him until he was completely inside.
Her own nails dug into his shoulders, though hers were decidedly sharper than Noitora's own blunt ones. She gasped as she felt teeth digging ever so gently into her sensitive flesh, a low moan escaping from her throat.
The nails in his skin were welcome jolts of pain for Noitora, and they only encouraged him to encite a more vocal response in Cuarta. For too long he had wanted this with her, and he knew he'd never get a chance like this again, so he was determined to make her cry out his name at least this once.
He lifted his head from her chest to latch onto her neck instead, suckling the skin above her pulse before pinching it not-so-gently with his teeth. His fingers clutched at her as he began to move, thrusting up slow but hard until he felt she was used to the instrusion, his pace steadily growing.
Cuarta gripped his shoulders as he began to move more quickly, thrusting harder and faster as the moments dragged. She found herself panting as Noitora's mouth moved from her chest to her neck, nibbling and sucking on the tender skin.
She would have marks after this, she realised faintly, but at this point, there was little she could do but feel the waves of pleasure washing over her with each and every movement of Noitora's hips.
He gasped against her throat and raked his nails down her thighs, realising now that for them to have enjoyed this more he should really have chosen a more...well...flat surface to do the deed. But no matter; she looked amazing as she moved against him, her breath tickling his forehead and shifting some of the hair in his fringe.
He grit his teeth and pushed up harder, deeper, willing her to move harder against him even though he already felt so close to his climax.
Cuarta was moving too, now, working in tandem with Noitora to get him to hit the best possible spots at the best possible angle, encouraging him to go deeper each time.
Eyes closed, she could feel Noitora's otherwise inaudible gasp, and she let out a whimper of her own as his nails left stinging welts down her thighs. "Fuck..." she gasped out. She would never curse normally, but she had lost her composure a while ago.
He grinned a little at her cursing, moving so that he would rub against what he hoped where her sensitive points, the places where he seemed to be getting the best reactions from her.
However, despite his best efforts, Noitora was only a simple male, and soon felt his orgasm about to hit. Still managing some coherent thought, he pulled away from Cuarta, instead spilling out onto her thighs and lower abdomen. The last thing he needed was for an accident to happen now. He lay back panting and draped an arm over his eyes, for the moment not caring that she hadn't quite had her release yet.
Her orgasm hadn't hit before Noitora pulled out, but she was so close to her release that she could feel it. She didn't waste time, merely slipping her own fingers in to replace what had just been removed. It did not take long for her own release to come, and when it did, she leaned against Noitora, her lower body a mess of sticky fluids, her vision blurring.
She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Her limbs felt too shaky to move just yet as it was.
Noitora groaned as she slumped against him, lifting his arms to wrap them around her and stroke her back lightly. His limbs felt like lead, but he welcomed it, fingertips pressing into Cuarta's lower back to move in tight circles.
His mouth rested near her ear, and through a voice still heavy with the effort to breathe he managed to whisper, "Hey, Cuarta. Don't hate me in the morning when you wake up and realise this was all a horrible mistake. Okay?"
He considered moving her so that he could get dressed and leave, but she was practically a dead weight against him and he had to admit, her warmth and breasts against his bare skin were certainly a welcome feeling.
She shut her eyes, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Perhaps this wouldn't be the nicest place to sleep, but she didn't particularly care. The alcohol was finally really getting to her, and the sex had left her boneless and exhausted.
She heard his words almost through a haze, but said nothing more than, "Go to sleep, Noitora." It was the first time she'd said his name throughout their sexual encounter, and made it clear that she did, indeed, know who she was currently sleeping with.
Noitora sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, the other still wrapped around her naked back. If this was what she wanted, then so be it. He wasn't going to argue now.
He settled back and shifted her lighter frame so that she was in a more comfortable position, arms supporting her while her head pressed against his chest.
Now, if he could leave when she was fast asleep, he'd manage to keep his balls.
Characters: Cuarta (kendraxplague), Noitora (supahukevaizard)
Timeline: November 28, 2006
Rating: NC-17.
Summary: Noitora comes across a drunk, distraught Cuarta while dropping off homework. Porn ensues.
Noitora hadn't been best pleased when Aizen had presented him with a smile and a folder of homework Cuarta had missed that day. While bugging Cuarta was usually top of his to-do list, he just hadn't been in the mood, and guessed she would be even less happy to see him.
Apparently, today was her mother's 'death day', as it had been referred to, and Aizen had permitted Cuarta have the day off if she caught up on her work. So Noitora had been reduced to an errand boy, delivering this folder of work so that she could do sums and essays on the most depressing day of the year.
Sometimes, Noitora felt Aizen was actually Beelzebub.
He knocked on Cuarta's door and waited for her to answer, annoyed that he'd already missed the first half of House so that he could come here. Knowing her, all he'd get would be a spiteful glare and a door slammed in his face.
He knocked again, harder this time, and came close to shouting when he heard something smash in the hallway just behind the door. His eyebrows raised and he stepped back a little, not wanting to be hit by a flying blunt object.
Cuarta hated seeming weak. She hated crying, she hated missing school, and most of all, she hated having to ask permission to stay home from her teachers. Her mother had been dead for about four years now -- why couldn't she just let it go?
It was difficult, though, when she looked at her life now. Her father couldn't look at her, and had become so distant that he didn't even know what classes Cuarta was taking, or what she liked to do. Cuarta had very few friends, which also added to her loneliness -- and it made her miss her mother more than ever.
Her father wasn't even around. He never was, not on this day. He would go back to Hollywood and visit his wife's grave without his daughter, leaving her to mourn alone.
And mourn she did. She'd already gone through two beers and half a bottle of Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whiskey, and the floor was spinning. She luckily hadn't gotten around to crying just yet, but she was perilously close to it, her eyes red and shiny. She hadn't gotten dressed all day, and was still wearing her pyjamas, a pair of shorts and an old, white tank top.
She obviously hadn't expected anyone to stop by, and so when she heard the knock on the door, she thought she was merely imagining things. But the knocking persisted, and in her haste to reach the door, she knocked over one of the empty bottles of beer, cursing as it shattered and one of the shards cut into the top of her foot.
Cuarta opened the door, and her heart sank. Noitora. The last person she would ever have wanted to see -- he'd just be an asshole, and she didn't need that right now. "Can I help you?" she asked dully.
Noitora was surprised to say the least when Cuarta opened the door. The sight of blood on her foot almost made him worry, before he remembered this was no normal woman standing before him. Still, the fact that she was obviously upset did tug at his slightly withered heartstrings, and he moved his foot so that she couldn't close the door in his face just yet.
"I have this work for you." he stated dully, holding out the folder. "You're drunk off yer ass. Why?"
Genuine concern showed in his one good eye, even if it was helped a little by his improving acting skills. Even though his first thought wasn't that Noitora could turn this to his advantage, his subconcious was a sharper one than he, and he intended to see where this would go.
She stared at the folder, as though trying to figure out what work it could possibly be for, then took it, fingers shaking. "Thank you," she replied. She didn't want to talk to anyone right now, as if that wasn't horribly obvious.
"Why does it matter?" she inquired in that same, lifeless tone, stepping away from Noitora. "And I'm not drunk." The ground only looked like it was tilted at a bizarre angle, that was all.
Noitora rolled his eye and stepped forward over the threshold, holding up his hands to show her he wasn't trying to be threatening.
"Listen, Cuarta, I know drunk, I've seen it far too many times, and right now your head must be spinning. Why don't you sit down and I'll get you some nice, cold water?"
He was slightly horrified by the kind tone in his usual mirthless voice but pushed the thought away, knowing at least somewhat how it felt to be abandoned by one's family.
Cuarta wasn't sure if Noitora was actually trying to be nice or not, but at this point in time, she hardly cared. He was right, she noticed mournfully. The scenery was spinning, and it was making her faintly dizzy.
"All right," she said at long last, heading towards the couch in the living room. It was the nearest place she could sit, and she did so, wiping the blood from her foot. "Kitchen's to the left. If -- if the maid is in there, tell her I want her to go home, please."
She wasn't used to being this polite to people like Noitora, but considering her current condition, she hardly seemed to be aware of this change.
Noitora chuckled softly at the mention of a 'maid' but made sure Cuarta couldn't hear, shrugging off his jacket and striding into the kitchen after laying it over a chair. There wasn't a woman in sight but an apron was hanging on the back of the door, so he guessed that meant she wasn't home.
The kitchen was huge and Noitora felt almost dwarfed by it, flailing mentally at the thought of where he should even look for a glass. He would shout for Cuarta but didn't think she's appreciate that in her current state, so instead grabbed what he hoped was a clean glass from the side of the sink and filled it with water dispensable from the fridge door. He dumped a couple of ice cubes into it for good measure and walked back into the living room, offering the glass to Cuarta.
"Drink it slowly or you'll get brain freeze." he stated, before sitting on an armchair next to the couch.
Even if the glass hadn't been particularly clean, Cuarta would not have noticed it. A dirty cup was the last thing on her mind, that was for sure.
She nodded, then winced as the floor continued to spin. "Thank you," she muttered again, sipping it slowly. It did make her feel a little better, though not much. "I ... you needn't stay."
At this point, she wasn't even sure whether she wanted company or not. Yeah, she was lonely, but she didn't want anyone to see her in this state, either.
Noitora scoffed and waved his hand at her to dismiss the comment, reaching over to take the bottle of whiskey and enjoy a deep gulp, wincing a little as his throat burned from the harsh liquid. "I've seen you now, so you don't need to be embarassed about anything. I should stay in case you fall over and choke on your own vomit, mmkay?"
He smiled a little to try and show her that he wasn't serious, remembering he had told her to never treat him as such, and reached out a tentative hand to pat her arm. "Would you like some aspirin? Your kitchen is fucking huge but I'm sure I'll find it eventually."
Cuarta flushed, but said nothing. If Noitora wanted to stay, it didn't appear that there was anything she could do to stop him.
The maid entered the room, then, coat draped over her arm. "Miss Halibel, I'm taking my leave now," she said respectfully. "Is there anything you need before I go?"
Cuarta frowned at the mention of her real first name, but thought better of telling the woman off. "Aspirin," she muttered. Now, at least Noitora wouldn't have to find it. The woman nodded, disappearing for a moment before coming back with the whole bottle.
"I'll be back in the morning," the maid informed her, and left the house quickly. Cuarta didn't blame her. If anything happened to her, such as if she drank too much, at least she wouldn't be held responsible.
She took two aspirin, swallowing them down with water, then placed the bottle on the table beside her, resting her face in her hands. "Don't tell anyone about this," she said, an almost pleading edge to her voice as she finally looked up at him. "I'm not weak. I don't want anyone to think that I am."
Noitora watched as the maid produced aspirin and Cuarta swallowed them down quickly, not saying anything about the mention of her first name and merely locking it away for future-annoying. However, right now he didn't think she deserved teasing.
He simply shrugged languidly and settled back in the comfortable armchair, legs stretching out in front of him. "I won't tell anyone. They know you aren't weak, but I'm sure some of our less savoury club members would like some ammunition against you." usually, this would include him, but tonight he was nice Noitora.
"I know you're not weak." he repeated, glancing over at her as if to reinforce the point. Maybe talking like this would help sober her up.
"Good," she mumbled. "Because I'm not." Being drunk was possibly Cuarta's least favourite thing in the world to be, mainly because she sounded like a fool when she spoke and looked like an idiot (or perhaps even a slut) when she acted.
Despite Noitora's assurances, she did feel weak -- horribly and utterly weak -- and perhaps that was the reason that Cuarta spoke again, voice muffled by her hands. "He leaves ever year at this time to visit the grave without me. He acts like he's the only one who misses her. And that -- that's not true. It would be nice if he could acknowledge that I'm still alive, too, every once in a while." She shuddered, struggling to keep the tears at bay.
No. She would not cry -- not even when she was completely drunk off her ass and couldn't control herself at all.
Noitora just couldn't find the words to say. Unsurprisingly, comforting had never been his strong point, and he seemed to be clutching at straws.
He leant forward on his knees and reached out to pat her arm again, stoking softly in an attempt to at least comfort her physically. The way her body appeared to be shaking didn't encourage him that it was exactly working though.
"Hey, listen to me. You're a damn strong woman, I know 'cuz I've seen it first hand. Instead of sittin' here on yer ass and drinking you should take initiative. Tell your sad excuse for a father that you want to visit the grave with him. An' if he doesn't accept that, go yourself. Show him he can't beat you."
With that probably useless speech out of the way he took a deep breath and hung his head, taking his eyes off her. He actually felt a little embarassed at going off on a tirade like that, but a small part of him really hoped it would help.
She glanced up, red-eyed and a bit surprised at his words. Through the haze of alcohol, she wondered with the rational part of her brain why she had never tried doing such a thing before.
Perhaps she was simply so used to her father ignoring her that she never even tried anymore.
Noitora had a point, though, and the hand stroking her arm was comforting. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, fingers curling into his sleeve. "Thank you," she said in a voice that was nearly a whisper. "Stay a while longer. Please."
This was the point in Noitora's life when he could see a whole myriad of bad situations unfurling before him. He glanced down as though a tarantula had just started climbing up his arm, nervously patting Cuarta's hand. "Er...you...uh." the part of his brain controlled by his penis was starting to kick in, which unfortunately meant the function usually used for talking was left by the wayside.
He smiled weakly, fighting an inner battle against his teenage needs. "If that's...what you want. But, er...don't hate me or anything, okay? Cuz...you know..." He gulped and looked away from her, trying not to focus on how her shorts were riding up her toned thighs, or how her current position made it plainly clear that she wasn't wearing a bra. He gulped and burried his face in his free hand, wondering why he let these things happen to him.
Cuarta hardly listened to what he was saying. Drunk and distraught, her logic had flown out the window some time ago, and it was mostly because of this lack of rational thought that her lips found Noitora's throat.
It wasn't a very obvious action. It was light, more of an invitation than anything. Chances were that like any other teenaged male in his position, Noitora would have a difficult time ignoring this.
He felt his mouth fall open as the gentle caress of Cuarta's dry lips tickled along his skin. She...would definately kill him for this. Even if he just sat here and let her ravage him (which was a very inviting thought, actually), she'd find some way to pin the situation on him. And thus, he reasoned, it was a lose-lose situation. He might as well make the best of it.
He didn't move away from Cuarta's lips, merely twisted so that one elegant hand could find it's way down her ribcage and over the gentle rise of one hip, pushing up her tank top a little to stroke the dark skin now bared to him.
"You realise what you're doing, don't you?" he asked gently, knowing he'd surely regret it if she came to her senses now.
She made a small noise in the back of her throat in what sounded much like assent. Yes, of course she realized what she was doing. She was with Noitora and would probably end up having sex with him. Aside from that? No, she honestly had no idea at all.
She didn't stop what she was doing, however, and instead merely moved her hand so her fingers were not holding the fabric of his shirt so tightly. Shifting a bit on the couch, her mouth moved upwards, trailing up to his jaw. Cuarta needed and wanted this -- and whether it was Noitora or not ... well, at the moment, she couldn't care less who it was.
He shrugged and decided he'd given her enough of a chance, moving so that he could wrap his arms around her and pull her to him, trying to position her in his lap as he lay back in the armchair. His hands slid over her back, pressed in and kneaded the taught muscles there, before travelling lower, playfully flicking the elastic of her pyjama shorts. Granted, it might earn him a harsh glare, but it was worth it.
He then moved to her thighs, squeezing them gently as he had spent many a night imagining, not wanting to push her too fast too soon in case she got cold feet.
She got the idea quickly and moved so she was straddling his lap. She didn't seem to be at all annoyed about the movement of his hands, and in fact seemed to encourage him.
Her own hands slipped down until they were at the hem of his shirt, sliding underneath to trace over pale skin and muscle. Cuarta could properly appreciate the fact that yes, Noitora was an awful prick, but he did have a nice body, and that made everything else pale in comparison, at least for the moment.
The weight of her body against his enticed a husky groan from Noitora's throat. He so badly wanted to strip her and have his way with her, but that wouldn't do. For this to work properly he had to let her set the pace, no matter how frustrating it would be for him. Still, he guessed it would be worth the wait if his fantasies were anything like the truth.
He glanced down as her smaller hands hid themselves under his shirt, and hissed pleasure as her fingertips, calloused and rough from training, travelled over his skin. He reached down to tug the annoyance off and toss it to one side, running his hands up her arms to knead her shoulders.
Although Noitora seemed to be facing a rather difficult dilemma, Cuarta was unconcerned with any of it, and was moving at a steady pace. When Noitora's shirt came off, she wasted no time and instead leaned down to suck lightly on his collarbone.
Perhaps it was because she was fully clothed and he was not, but Cuarta felt as though she held the majority of control in this situation. Of course, this was only for now -- there was no doubt that Noitora would take over soon -- but it gave her a feeling of not being at the mercy of anyone else, even if she was drunk out of her mind.
Noitora began to realise that Cuarta, being in the state she was, was not looking for gentle, passionate sex. As he felt his skin prickle and burn beneath her lips he brought his hands up to cup her full breasts, thumbs rubbing over her hardening nipples and he massaged the soft flesh under his palms. He began to feel his arousal press painfully at his jeans, moving his hips in an attempt to grind against her for some friction, at least, to relieve some of the pressure.
She did not stop his grinding, and instead actually welcomed the friction. Cuarta gasped almost inaudibly, wriggling out of her shirt as Noitora's hands squeezed and massaged her breasts. They were both half-unclothed now, and she pulled her mouth away from his skin.
Instead of stopping completely, though, she pressed the heel of her hand onto his crotch, feeling the heat even through two layers of fabric.
He grunted with pleasure and let his head loll back; closing his eyes to concentrate on the sensations she was gracing him with. He let his hands wander blindly over her exposed skin, warm to the touch yet smooth and soft, the opposite to his, really. He gazed at her with his one good eye, slipping a hand down to push into her shorts and press against the slick warmth between her thighs, repaying her for the welcome pressure on his aching member.
"Fuck, Cuarta..." he breathed, smirking in a way she must have been used to, "Didn't think I could make you feel this good."
She looked him in the eye as he spoke, a flicker of sober annoyance showing on her face. It was gone in an instant, luckily for Noitora. Had she been in her right mind, she would have pushed him away and told him to go home, but as it was, she had no mind to do such a thing.
"You're taking too long," was the only thing she said, unbuttoning his pants with one hand, the other bracing herself on the back of the armchair.
"Or maybe you're just impatient?" he countered, but complied with her none-the-less. He pushed his hips up and aided her in pushing down his pants as well as his underwear, trying to tug down her shorts as much as their positions would allow. He held her ass with one hand to steady her and leered up at her, leaning forward to flick his tongue over one pert nipple while his free hand slid up her inner thigh, two fingers pushing into her opening suddenly to try and quench her thirst for pleasure.
"Possibly," she acknowledged, though said nothing more on the topic. She was far too preoccuppied with the attention she was receiving, her head falling back as she felt fingers enter her and wetness engulf one nipple.
She'd forgotten how good this felt. She hadn't had sex with anyone since ... well, she didn't even know when the last time had been.
Attempting to think through this onslaught of sensation was difficult, but she remembered enough to pull down his boxers and pants a bit further before her fingers moved to encircle his now-obvious erection.
This was getting too much for Noitora. While her heavier breathing and the feeling of her body surrounding him was quite delectable, Noitora had never been one to hold out on his own pleasure for too long. He moved both hands to hold her hips tightly, blunt nails digging into her skin as he tugged her closer to him, the head of his member pressing against her as he attempted to bring her down around him.
By now his mind was blank, only processing her feel and taste and smell. His mouth still worked over her breast, nibbling gently before kissing across to the other, giving it the same treatment with his lips and tongue.
Cuarta was just as eager to get on with it as Noitora was, and so did not complain when he began to get restless. She shifted slightly, guiding him into her, slowly moving so she was completely straddling him until he was completely inside.
Her own nails dug into his shoulders, though hers were decidedly sharper than Noitora's own blunt ones. She gasped as she felt teeth digging ever so gently into her sensitive flesh, a low moan escaping from her throat.
The nails in his skin were welcome jolts of pain for Noitora, and they only encouraged him to encite a more vocal response in Cuarta. For too long he had wanted this with her, and he knew he'd never get a chance like this again, so he was determined to make her cry out his name at least this once.
He lifted his head from her chest to latch onto her neck instead, suckling the skin above her pulse before pinching it not-so-gently with his teeth. His fingers clutched at her as he began to move, thrusting up slow but hard until he felt she was used to the instrusion, his pace steadily growing.
Cuarta gripped his shoulders as he began to move more quickly, thrusting harder and faster as the moments dragged. She found herself panting as Noitora's mouth moved from her chest to her neck, nibbling and sucking on the tender skin.
She would have marks after this, she realised faintly, but at this point, there was little she could do but feel the waves of pleasure washing over her with each and every movement of Noitora's hips.
He gasped against her throat and raked his nails down her thighs, realising now that for them to have enjoyed this more he should really have chosen a more...well...flat surface to do the deed. But no matter; she looked amazing as she moved against him, her breath tickling his forehead and shifting some of the hair in his fringe.
He grit his teeth and pushed up harder, deeper, willing her to move harder against him even though he already felt so close to his climax.
Cuarta was moving too, now, working in tandem with Noitora to get him to hit the best possible spots at the best possible angle, encouraging him to go deeper each time.
Eyes closed, she could feel Noitora's otherwise inaudible gasp, and she let out a whimper of her own as his nails left stinging welts down her thighs. "Fuck..." she gasped out. She would never curse normally, but she had lost her composure a while ago.
He grinned a little at her cursing, moving so that he would rub against what he hoped where her sensitive points, the places where he seemed to be getting the best reactions from her.
However, despite his best efforts, Noitora was only a simple male, and soon felt his orgasm about to hit. Still managing some coherent thought, he pulled away from Cuarta, instead spilling out onto her thighs and lower abdomen. The last thing he needed was for an accident to happen now. He lay back panting and draped an arm over his eyes, for the moment not caring that she hadn't quite had her release yet.
Her orgasm hadn't hit before Noitora pulled out, but she was so close to her release that she could feel it. She didn't waste time, merely slipping her own fingers in to replace what had just been removed. It did not take long for her own release to come, and when it did, she leaned against Noitora, her lower body a mess of sticky fluids, her vision blurring.
She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Her limbs felt too shaky to move just yet as it was.
Noitora groaned as she slumped against him, lifting his arms to wrap them around her and stroke her back lightly. His limbs felt like lead, but he welcomed it, fingertips pressing into Cuarta's lower back to move in tight circles.
His mouth rested near her ear, and through a voice still heavy with the effort to breathe he managed to whisper, "Hey, Cuarta. Don't hate me in the morning when you wake up and realise this was all a horrible mistake. Okay?"
He considered moving her so that he could get dressed and leave, but she was practically a dead weight against him and he had to admit, her warmth and breasts against his bare skin were certainly a welcome feeling.
She shut her eyes, resting her cheek on his shoulder. Perhaps this wouldn't be the nicest place to sleep, but she didn't particularly care. The alcohol was finally really getting to her, and the sex had left her boneless and exhausted.
She heard his words almost through a haze, but said nothing more than, "Go to sleep, Noitora." It was the first time she'd said his name throughout their sexual encounter, and made it clear that she did, indeed, know who she was currently sleeping with.
Noitora sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, the other still wrapped around her naked back. If this was what she wanted, then so be it. He wasn't going to argue now.
He settled back and shifted her lighter frame so that she was in a more comfortable position, arms supporting her while her head pressed against his chest.
Now, if he could leave when she was fast asleep, he'd manage to keep his balls.