fic: What I'd Do To You (Part III)
TITLE: What I’d Do To You (Part III)
AUTHOR: Brio
WORDS: 1,750ish
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Following on from Part I and Part II, it's time to wash off the chocolate.
NOTES: There were requests for some more parts to this fic (pleasurechest, I’m looking at you). Thanks to Darch for the beta.
You feel your back hit the cool tiles of the shower as she pushes you playfully and you send a(nother) silent thank you skywards for the previous owners’ decision to install a shower large enough for two people in the en-suite. Her mouth clashes against yours as her fingers tangle in your hair.
“I could have sworn you were exhausted when you got home,” she muses, mouth breaking away from yours, leaving you more than a little breathless.
“I was. I am. But I figure I can sleep all day tomorrow. At this rate, I will sleep all day tomorrow,” you respond, leaning forward to push your lips to hers again. You could spend days kissing those lips and your mind flits back to the earlier stages of your relationship when, on the rare occasion that you both had sufficient time off, you spent entire days in bed or on the couch, completely naked, exploring each other’s bodies.
You realised quickly that she isn’t shy. Not when it comes to her body and not when it comes to telling you exactly what she wants. Or what she wants to do to you. And although it took you a while to open up to her, to be as frank as she is, you’ve never been this comfortable with anyone, never felt this open or exposed to anyone.
Her hands snap you back to the present as they leave your hair and cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your straining nipples and you sigh contentedly as a pulse shoots through your body. Her eyes lock with yours and another pulse causes you to part your lips and moan softly.
“What do you want?” she asks, shaking the wet hair from her eyes. You think about it briefly, a memory fluttering through your mind: a Sunday afternoon, a hike, a shower, the rest of the day in bed.
“I want you against the wall,” you hear yourself say and reverse your positions, pushing her back against the tiles and clasping her wrists to bring her hands up above her head. She smiles at you and pushes her hips away from the wall, wrists straining against your hands. You click your tongue and shake your head, tightening your grip before leaning in close, letting your mouth travel from the base of her neck to just below her ear. “What do you want?” She whimpers, tugging once more against your hands.
“I want you slow,” she whispers; the sound of her voice causes ripples of lust to spread through your body. You press your forehead against the tile, eyes closing as your hips grind forwards against hers. She responds moments later, mirroring your action. “I want you to fuck me slow and no matter how much I beg, how much I plead… I want you to just go slowly.”
“Turn around,” you whisper, releasing her arms and moving away from her. You reach over to shut off the water.
“Like this?” she asks, bracing herself against the wall and you chuckle.
“You said you wanted me to go slow,” you muse, bending to pick up the bottle of lavender shower gel. You snap the lid open and squeeze some onto the palm of your hand before placing the bottle on the floor again. “Move closer to the wall, rest your head on your arms.”
Using your free hand, you guide her into position, pausing to marvel at the toned muscles of her shoulders and the curve of her spine. After distributing some of the shower gel into your other hand, you step towards her and drop a kiss to the tattoo adorning her shoulder. She shivers slightly and shifts her weight before settling against the wall again.
“Cold, babe?” you brush your lips against her skin and she shivers again.
“Freezing,” she lies and you smile, pressing the tip of your index finger at the base of her spine as your other hand grasps her waist, palm massaging soft circles into her skin. She arches back as you begin to drag your finger up the column of her spine, her eyes falling shut and her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.
You feel a quick breath leave your lips as you watch the rise of her chest and struggle to control the roll of your hips against her. You reach the nape of her neck and draw a heart before replacing your hand with your mouth, leaving butterfly kisses across her back.
“Touch me,” she mutters.
“I am,” you reply, lifting your mouth from her skin.
“Higher.”
She arches back again to emphasize her point and you do your best to take your time, massaging her from her hips upwards until her body is covered in lather. Teasingly, you run a finger along the underside of her breasts and feel her sigh. The sigh turns to a groan as you turn your attention to her back, a giggle on your lips.
“You said slow,” you point out, writing your name with your fingertips.
“Please,” she huffs.
“You also said…”
“Dianna Charlotte Agron,” she exclaims exasperatedly. “I would like it very much…”
“Lea Michele Sarfati,” you retort, ceasing all touching. “You said, and I quote: no matter how much I beg, how much I plead.”
“I revoke that statement,” she interjects immediately. “Totally revoke it. Touch me.”
You sigh and run your hand down her back, skirting around her hip and nestling it between her thighs. Instantly, she tries to grind down against it.
“Is this what you want?” your voice rumbles in her ear and she moans an incoherent response. Your other hand reaches around to cup her breast. “Or this?”
“Both,” she sighs. “But slow.” Behind her, you shoot an incredulous look at the back of her head. “I saw that.”
“You saw nothing,” you reply, rolling her nipple between your index finger and thumb. She gasps, hips canting forwards, seeking purchase against your hand. Though she makes it difficult, you try to set a slow rhythm, alternating between teasing her nipples with your fingers and rubbing the palm of your hand against them. She takes a shaky breath as you tug roughly, her mouth falling open and her hips jut forwards again. “You okay?”
“Mmhmm,” she mewls contentedly, eyes closed.
“You better not fall asleep on me, babe,” you smirk as the hand between her legs twitches imperceptibly. Her legs part a little further, inviting you to raise your hand a little higher. Her eyes open and she glances at you, licking her lips as your eyes connect. A shiver runs through your body and reach over to switch the water back on. She squeals and tries to move out of the onslaught of cold water but you hold her fast, waiting for the water to run hot again. “Turn around,” you whisper huskily.
You remove the shower head from it’s holder and hold it close to her skin, washing away all the remaining bubbles. You watch her arch backwards against the tiles as the stream of water runs over her chest, rivulets of water running over and between her breasts.
Mesmerised, you fumble with the shower head in your haste to reattach it before ducking your head against her skin, tongue lapping persistently, teeth grazing, lips sucking until she moans your name. Panting, you raise your gaze to meet hers. Her lips form a silent plea and you nod wordlessly, pushing her fully against the wall. Your thigh slides roughly against her centre and she moans in relief, hips grinding downwards.
Her hands lock behind your neck and pull you in closer, a frantic kiss melting your bodies together.
“God…” she mutters as you bring your hand against her sex, her wetness mingling with the warm water rushing down over both your bodies. “Please.”
Your fingers slide clumsily against her clit and she jerks against your thigh. As you move your hand away, she protests, shaking her head.
“Di, I need to…” she doesn’t finish her sentence, can’t finish her sentence as you rock your thigh up against her. Her cry echoes off the tiles and her head falls back. Your mouth latches onto her neck, kissing a little more gently now as your fingers press against her clit. You move in agonisingly slow circles and she matches your rhythm, thrusting against your thigh, each thrust punctuated with a gasp or a moan or your name.
She doesn’t have to beg you to speed up. You know by the tremble in her legs and the clenching of her abdomen that she’s about to come undone. You hear your name along with several oaths to God as you circle faster. The movement of her hips becomes erratic and as soon as you move your head away from her neck, she falls forward against your shoulder, fingers still clinging at the back of your neck.
“Come,” you whisper in her ear and she exhales sharply, her entire body tenses, her thighs clench around yours and she shudders through her orgasm. Her grip on you falters but you catch her before she falls, sliding her back up against the wall. You press soft kisses to her lips until she tells you with a smile that she needs to lie down.
After shutting off the water, you wrap her up in a towel and guide her into the bedroom. She sits on the end of the bed, gazing blearily at you as you dry her off. She giggles when you tickle a sensitive spot at the back of her knee and scrambles away from you.
“We need to sleep,” she says, crawling beneath the covers and watching as you towel-dry your hair.
“Sleep is good,” you agree, stifling a yawn. You jump into bed next to her and shut off the bedside light. Like every night, she curls up on her side, arm thrown over your waist, head resting against your shoulder, legs intertwined with yours. She mumbles to herself as she gets comfortable. “What were the other three?” you ask. In the semi-darkness of the room, you see her crack one eye open.
“The other three what?”
“Earlier, you said you thought about us… on the rug. And in the shower. What were the other three?”
“Bed, couch and kitchen.”
“Okay,” you say, smiling up at the ceiling.
“Why?” she asks, covering her mouth as she starts to yawn.
“Get some sleep,” you say soothingly. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”
Part 4
AUTHOR: Brio
WORDS: 1,750ish
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Following on from Part I and Part II, it's time to wash off the chocolate.
NOTES: There were requests for some more parts to this fic (pleasurechest, I’m looking at you). Thanks to Darch for the beta.
You feel your back hit the cool tiles of the shower as she pushes you playfully and you send a(nother) silent thank you skywards for the previous owners’ decision to install a shower large enough for two people in the en-suite. Her mouth clashes against yours as her fingers tangle in your hair.
“I could have sworn you were exhausted when you got home,” she muses, mouth breaking away from yours, leaving you more than a little breathless.
“I was. I am. But I figure I can sleep all day tomorrow. At this rate, I will sleep all day tomorrow,” you respond, leaning forward to push your lips to hers again. You could spend days kissing those lips and your mind flits back to the earlier stages of your relationship when, on the rare occasion that you both had sufficient time off, you spent entire days in bed or on the couch, completely naked, exploring each other’s bodies.
You realised quickly that she isn’t shy. Not when it comes to her body and not when it comes to telling you exactly what she wants. Or what she wants to do to you. And although it took you a while to open up to her, to be as frank as she is, you’ve never been this comfortable with anyone, never felt this open or exposed to anyone.
Her hands snap you back to the present as they leave your hair and cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your straining nipples and you sigh contentedly as a pulse shoots through your body. Her eyes lock with yours and another pulse causes you to part your lips and moan softly.
“What do you want?” she asks, shaking the wet hair from her eyes. You think about it briefly, a memory fluttering through your mind: a Sunday afternoon, a hike, a shower, the rest of the day in bed.
“I want you against the wall,” you hear yourself say and reverse your positions, pushing her back against the tiles and clasping her wrists to bring her hands up above her head. She smiles at you and pushes her hips away from the wall, wrists straining against your hands. You click your tongue and shake your head, tightening your grip before leaning in close, letting your mouth travel from the base of her neck to just below her ear. “What do you want?” She whimpers, tugging once more against your hands.
“I want you slow,” she whispers; the sound of her voice causes ripples of lust to spread through your body. You press your forehead against the tile, eyes closing as your hips grind forwards against hers. She responds moments later, mirroring your action. “I want you to fuck me slow and no matter how much I beg, how much I plead… I want you to just go slowly.”
“Turn around,” you whisper, releasing her arms and moving away from her. You reach over to shut off the water.
“Like this?” she asks, bracing herself against the wall and you chuckle.
“You said you wanted me to go slow,” you muse, bending to pick up the bottle of lavender shower gel. You snap the lid open and squeeze some onto the palm of your hand before placing the bottle on the floor again. “Move closer to the wall, rest your head on your arms.”
Using your free hand, you guide her into position, pausing to marvel at the toned muscles of her shoulders and the curve of her spine. After distributing some of the shower gel into your other hand, you step towards her and drop a kiss to the tattoo adorning her shoulder. She shivers slightly and shifts her weight before settling against the wall again.
“Cold, babe?” you brush your lips against her skin and she shivers again.
“Freezing,” she lies and you smile, pressing the tip of your index finger at the base of her spine as your other hand grasps her waist, palm massaging soft circles into her skin. She arches back as you begin to drag your finger up the column of her spine, her eyes falling shut and her teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.
You feel a quick breath leave your lips as you watch the rise of her chest and struggle to control the roll of your hips against her. You reach the nape of her neck and draw a heart before replacing your hand with your mouth, leaving butterfly kisses across her back.
“Touch me,” she mutters.
“I am,” you reply, lifting your mouth from her skin.
“Higher.”
She arches back again to emphasize her point and you do your best to take your time, massaging her from her hips upwards until her body is covered in lather. Teasingly, you run a finger along the underside of her breasts and feel her sigh. The sigh turns to a groan as you turn your attention to her back, a giggle on your lips.
“You said slow,” you point out, writing your name with your fingertips.
“Please,” she huffs.
“You also said…”
“Dianna Charlotte Agron,” she exclaims exasperatedly. “I would like it very much…”
“Lea Michele Sarfati,” you retort, ceasing all touching. “You said, and I quote: no matter how much I beg, how much I plead.”
“I revoke that statement,” she interjects immediately. “Totally revoke it. Touch me.”
You sigh and run your hand down her back, skirting around her hip and nestling it between her thighs. Instantly, she tries to grind down against it.
“Is this what you want?” your voice rumbles in her ear and she moans an incoherent response. Your other hand reaches around to cup her breast. “Or this?”
“Both,” she sighs. “But slow.” Behind her, you shoot an incredulous look at the back of her head. “I saw that.”
“You saw nothing,” you reply, rolling her nipple between your index finger and thumb. She gasps, hips canting forwards, seeking purchase against your hand. Though she makes it difficult, you try to set a slow rhythm, alternating between teasing her nipples with your fingers and rubbing the palm of your hand against them. She takes a shaky breath as you tug roughly, her mouth falling open and her hips jut forwards again. “You okay?”
“Mmhmm,” she mewls contentedly, eyes closed.
“You better not fall asleep on me, babe,” you smirk as the hand between her legs twitches imperceptibly. Her legs part a little further, inviting you to raise your hand a little higher. Her eyes open and she glances at you, licking her lips as your eyes connect. A shiver runs through your body and reach over to switch the water back on. She squeals and tries to move out of the onslaught of cold water but you hold her fast, waiting for the water to run hot again. “Turn around,” you whisper huskily.
You remove the shower head from it’s holder and hold it close to her skin, washing away all the remaining bubbles. You watch her arch backwards against the tiles as the stream of water runs over her chest, rivulets of water running over and between her breasts.
Mesmerised, you fumble with the shower head in your haste to reattach it before ducking your head against her skin, tongue lapping persistently, teeth grazing, lips sucking until she moans your name. Panting, you raise your gaze to meet hers. Her lips form a silent plea and you nod wordlessly, pushing her fully against the wall. Your thigh slides roughly against her centre and she moans in relief, hips grinding downwards.
Her hands lock behind your neck and pull you in closer, a frantic kiss melting your bodies together.
“God…” she mutters as you bring your hand against her sex, her wetness mingling with the warm water rushing down over both your bodies. “Please.”
Your fingers slide clumsily against her clit and she jerks against your thigh. As you move your hand away, she protests, shaking her head.
“Di, I need to…” she doesn’t finish her sentence, can’t finish her sentence as you rock your thigh up against her. Her cry echoes off the tiles and her head falls back. Your mouth latches onto her neck, kissing a little more gently now as your fingers press against her clit. You move in agonisingly slow circles and she matches your rhythm, thrusting against your thigh, each thrust punctuated with a gasp or a moan or your name.
She doesn’t have to beg you to speed up. You know by the tremble in her legs and the clenching of her abdomen that she’s about to come undone. You hear your name along with several oaths to God as you circle faster. The movement of her hips becomes erratic and as soon as you move your head away from her neck, she falls forward against your shoulder, fingers still clinging at the back of your neck.
“Come,” you whisper in her ear and she exhales sharply, her entire body tenses, her thighs clench around yours and she shudders through her orgasm. Her grip on you falters but you catch her before she falls, sliding her back up against the wall. You press soft kisses to her lips until she tells you with a smile that she needs to lie down.
After shutting off the water, you wrap her up in a towel and guide her into the bedroom. She sits on the end of the bed, gazing blearily at you as you dry her off. She giggles when you tickle a sensitive spot at the back of her knee and scrambles away from you.
“We need to sleep,” she says, crawling beneath the covers and watching as you towel-dry your hair.
“Sleep is good,” you agree, stifling a yawn. You jump into bed next to her and shut off the bedside light. Like every night, she curls up on her side, arm thrown over your waist, head resting against your shoulder, legs intertwined with yours. She mumbles to herself as she gets comfortable. “What were the other three?” you ask. In the semi-darkness of the room, you see her crack one eye open.
“The other three what?”
“Earlier, you said you thought about us… on the rug. And in the shower. What were the other three?”
“Bed, couch and kitchen.”
“Okay,” you say, smiling up at the ceiling.
“Why?” she asks, covering her mouth as she starts to yawn.
“Get some sleep,” you say soothingly. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”
Part 4