Prompt: “One does not kill oneself for love of a woman, but because love - any love - reveals us in our nakedness, our misery, our vulnerability, our nothingness.”
Warnings: Smut, oral, mild BDSM content (including use of a blindfold and mild physical restraint), use of a vibrator, language, and a dash of fluff.
Characters/Pairings: Uruha (the GazettE)/Maggie (model, actress)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Summary: She’s lonely, and so is he. It’s easy, what they have—sex and friendship. He hadn’t factored romance into the equation, because romance isn’t necessarily ‘easy’.
Comments: For kurosawabride. Late birthday giftie. It wasn’t supposed to be this long, but the muses had other plans. Hence the extreme lateness. ^^; For the rest of you who might stumble upon this, this fic is RP-based—a… kinda spin-off of Own The Sun. We made AU out of the AU. How brilliant are we? XD Also, since this is based on RP, my Uruha has a nipple ring that the real Uruha doesn’t have~.
When Uruha’s cell phone rang at half past midnight, he had to admit that he was at least a little surprised, but not at all surprised as to whom was calling. He recognized the ringtone off the bat—it was just for her, after all, and he answered on the third ring.
“Don’t tell me that a beautiful girl like you is all by herself tonight~?” he teased, smiling even though he knew she couldn’t see it. He knew she could hear the smile in his voice, though.
“I won’t be as soon as you get over here,” Maggie replied, and Uruha could tell by the tone of her voice that she was smiling, too.
“Where are you?” he inquired, and then, “Didn’t you have a photoshoot this evening? Aren’t you tired?” No faults when it came to being considerate.
“I’m home. Yes, I did have a photoshoot this evening and yes, I am a little tired.” She paused, and then purred, “But I’m never too tired for you, darling.”
Uruha chuckled softly, brushing errant strands of blonde hair away from his face. “Flattering me now, are you, sweetheart?”
“That depends. Is it working?” Her voice sounded somewhat muffled now, and that piqued Uruha’s curiosity.
“That depends,” he retorted, flinging her own words back at her just to tease her more. “What are you doing to make your voice sound muffled?”
“Undressing,” Maggie said in a perfectly innocent (and no longer muffled) tone of voice. “I should make myself more… presentable for you, yes? Working now?”
Uruha knew that when Maggie said anything along those lines, it meant that she would either be mostly or fully undressed when she answered the door. It wasn’t like he would have turned her down, anyway, but suddenly, teasing her over the phone was severely underrated, and he figured that he could do so much better in person, with a hot mouth and nimble fingers and utterly filthy words as opposed to nothing more than soft laughter and words that weren’t quite naughty and yet were not completely innocent, either.
“… I believe you’ve managed to convince me,” Uruha finally managed to say after getting completely distracted by the mental image of a scantily-clad Maggie (and to be perfectly honest, she was capable of completely distracting him whether she was fully dressed, partly dressed, or not dressed at all—she possessed that sort of rare, honestly breathtaking beauty that made it impossible to ignore).
“Good to hear. And I was actually thinking that I was going to have to be here all by my lonesome~.” As if. She knew that he wouldn’t have said no—she was simply the one doing the teasing now. That was okay, though, because Uruha would repay her in full, with a little extra just because.
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Uruha told her as he stood, cradling his cellphone between his ear and shoulder as he stretched.
“Or it’s free?” Maggie asked, laughing.
It was a joke, Uruha knew. He wasn’t a pizza delivery guy, after all. Nor was he an escort or a prostitute. He smiled, but his words were serious: “You know you never owe me a thing.” Silently, he added, It’s my pleasure.
He could be quite the sex-kitten (as could she), but he was also quite capable of being a gentleman. Sensitivity and sexuality and utter goofiness all wrapped in one.
The black negligee that Maggie was wearing looked like it was custom-made, for it clung to her body in all of the right places. It was long, almost touching the floor, and the long split down the middle revealed a gracious amount of thigh as well as a pair of lacy black panties. There were three hooks that helped to hold the negligee in place: the first was located just above her bellybutton, the second at the end of her sternum, and the third almost directly between her breasts. Two thin straps circled her neck, and Uruha assumed that if he were to look, he’d find the straps tied in a loose knot at the back.
The negligee very little to the imagination—not that Uruha needed to imagine what Maggie looked like, because he knew quite well what was beneath the silky almost-see-through material.
Nevertheless, the fact that she was showing off for him demanded a compliment, and even though she didn’t ask for one or even look at him as though she was expecting him to give her one, it was the right thing to do.
So, as soon as he found his voice, he said, “You look absolutely breathtaking, sweetheart.” This was very true; however, it did not seem to do her justice. “I take it that this is definitely not what you wore to the photoshoot.” He grinned as he said it.
She gazed up at him through lowered lashes, smiling back at him in a way that was and was not completely un-innocent (she knew how to walk that fine line as well). “Of course not, baby. This is all for you.”
Her answer came as no surprise (mostly because she’d already told him earlier that she was undressing), but it was still nice to hear, anyway. “I do believe that you outdo yourself every single time I see you, if that’s possible,” Uruha told her. “And yet again, you’ve made me feel severely overdressed.”
Maggie’s smile turned decidedly mischievous—no more pretending, and she reached out, tugging at the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her as she lifted her head. Her next words were whispered against his lips: “That can be easily remedied as soon as you come in.”
As abruptly as she’d pulled Uruha close, she was letting him go and backing away slowly, crooking the index finger of her right hand and beckoning him inside. It was what Uruha had been waiting for (or something like it, at least), and he stepped into her home, pausing just long enough to toe off his boots and to close and lock the door behind him.
When he turned back to face her, he found that she had crossed the living room entirely and was now leaning against the far wall, head tilted slightly to the left, arms by her sides. The look in her eyes said, ‘what are you waiting for?’ But Uruha wasn’t waiting—not anymore.
He crossed the room as well, as slowly as she’d backed away from him (time to make her wait a little, now), and once he’d reached her, he pressed himself as close to her as he could get, his hands on her hips and his mouth working at her throat. At first, he was hesitant to do anything that could potentially leave a mark, but when Maggie gave a soft laugh and told him that he didn’t have to be so careful because she didn’t have another photoshoot or anything of the sort until next week, all hesitation ceased, as did her laughter when he sank his teeth into her skin.
Maggie’s laughter turned into a low moan and her hands slid up his back, nails raking over his shirt and not his skin like Uruha would have preferred, but they could fix that later. Right now, he preferred to focus on her.
He gradually lessened the pressure only to add more pressure of a different kind, sucking hard on her skin before lapping lightly at the mark (he could feel the imprint of his teeth there), his eyes closing. When he drew back and opened them, he was pleased to find that the mark he’d left on her skin was already turning an angry shade of red. It would be purple in a few hours, if not sooner—definitely a good thing that she didn’t have to worry about cameras for the next several days.
Maggie raised one of her hands to her neck, fingers gently and curiously touching the mark he’d made there. He imagined that it was hot to the touch, and he could see that it was still shining—slick with his saliva.
Inspection over, Maggie smiled and ran a fingernail down Uruha’s throat, stopping at his collarbone. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, but she made no move to take advantage of that fact just yet. “You left quite a mark on me, Uru,” she murmured, trailing her finger back up, over his chin and then his lips. She paused when he flicked his tongue out to taste her skin there, too—to taste the whorls and the softness. Her fingers were not calloused like his.
“Are you complaining?” The question was spoken against her finger, and Uruha knew that it wasn’t necessary to ask it, because he already knew what her answer would be, anyway. He liked to be gentle, but he also liked to be a little rough, and he knew that Maggie also liked it when he was a little (or more than a little) rough. He knew from firsthand experience that Maggie was not lacking in the ability to blend pleasure and pain perfectly, and that was one of the many reasons why he enjoyed her company so much. She wasn’t averse to sating his desire for a little pain—she had no problem with leaving marks of her own on his pale skin. Nor did she have problems with tugging on his hair until his scalp ached. She had a various assortment of toys (from cockrings to nipple clamps to strap-ons), and she knew how to use them well. Uruha had experienced all of that firsthand as well.
“Of course not,” she answered, giving him the answer that he was expecting. She pressed her finger more firmly against his lips and he automatically parted them, drawing the digit into his mouth and sucking softly, tongue swirling. Her lashes fluttered and her next words were more than a little breathy: “Just contemplating how I should repay you for it.” She slowly withdrew her finger, tapping lightly on Uruha’s lips before lowering her hand, now eyeing his shirt thoughtfully. “Your shirt’s going to have to go before I can reciprocate, though.”
She made a move to begin undoing the buttons of his shirt but he stopped her, fingers closing around her wrists, gripping them firmly. He then raised her arms slightly above her head, pinning them to the wall. “Later,” he said, though he didn’t sound as casual as he would have liked, which was actually quite difficult with her in such close proximity, looking at him like that, her eyes hooded and her smile showing teeth.
“Why Uruha,” Maggie breathed, “you’ve moved on to restraining me, now? Whatever did I do to deserve restraint~?” She made a faux attempt at a struggle—not really trying to get away, Uruha knew, but merely testing his hold on her. To thoroughly convince her, he tightened his hold on her wrists, nowhere near tight enough to break the delicate bones there, but tight enough to cause them to shift beneath his fingers. Tight enough to cause pain, which he would more than make up for in a moment.
The sound she made wasn’t one filled with pain—or rather, it wasn’t one filled with nothing but pain. There was pleasure there, too. Uruha could hear it, and he could feel it in the way her body arched against his. It was clear that she wasn’t disappointed with his little show.
“You misbehave,” Uruha eventually replied in answer to her latter question, fitting one of his thighs between both of hers, pressing it up and in and rubbing. He felt her hands convulse and heard her draw breath in a sharp hiss. Of course, misbehaving was the whole meaning of the game, but… “Don’t you know that you’re trying to act out of turn? My turn isn’t over yet, love~.”
Her smile was almost sheepish, but Uruha could see right through it. “Do forgive me, darling, for making a move out of turn.” Her smile changed then, becoming something more familiar. “I’ll make up for it later when it is my turn.”
“Oh, I have no doubts about that,” Uruha assured her, his grip on her wrists loosening somewhat. “But I need you to behave yourself until it’s time for you to… reciprocate. You think you can do that for me?” He rubbed his thigh harder against her crotch, giving her more friction, deliberately misbehaving, but it was his turn, so he therefore had the right. Besides, he really liked to watch the way her head tipped back and the way her lips parted a little when he did it.
Even after he stopped teasing (for the moment), it still took Maggie a second or two to answer, but when she did, mischievousness glinted in her eyes. “I promise I can try to behave,” she told him, the look on her face changing to one of feigned innocence when he narrowed his eyes at her. Her answer meant that she was actually going to attempt behaving herself, but she wasn’t going to try very hard, and would therefore wind up not behaving. That was the expected outcome—not necessarily undesired or problematic, but not exactly what Uruha had planned. Then again, when it came to Maggie, plans could usually be thrown out the window and not at all terribly missed. Easily forgotten, in fact. Very.
Her answer would have to do, because Uruha had much better things in mind that involved the use of his hands, and he couldn’t do said ‘much better things’ if he was still using his hands to restrain her, could he? Of course not, so that meant that he had to let go of her and somehow deal with whatever means of underhanded retaliation that she tried whilst he was in the process of teasing her. Not that he really minded or anything.
So Uruha relaxed his grip on Maggie’s wrists, and, lowering them to his mouth, he proceeded to press a light kiss to the pulse point in each of them. While she was currently putting on a very good show of being utterly in control of herself, her pulse could not lie: it was faster than normal, and when Uruha parted his lips and let his tongue play along the skin there as well (weren’t the wrists supposed to be very erogenous zones, anyway?), he felt her pulse quicken even more. This, too, pleased him.
He slowly released her altogether, and was admittedly surprised when she didn’t try to turn the tables on him one way or another (neither of them truly believed in playing fair, exactly, for playing dirty was usually their style, and playing dirty was also usually well-rewarded in the end). Instead, she merely smiled almost serenely at him, her arms at her sides once more, palms pressed flat against the wall. Well, well. If she was actually going to play nice, Uruha would have to play extra dirty to make up for it. Again, it was his turn, so it wasn’t difficult to convince himself that playing dirty was indeed fair.
With that in mind, Uruha returned her smile easily, though it wasn’t at all serene—it was something more along the lines of a predator getting ready to pounce. Maggie didn’t look afraid as prey typically should, but that was fine, because there was no reason to be afraid—Uruha wasn’t that sort of predator and Maggie wasn’t that sort of prey. They weren’t cat and mouse, and so there was no fear between them (there never had been); there was eagerness, however. He could see it in her eyes and he could feel it—could feel the heat of her still pressed against his thigh, even through the barrier of his pesky jeans.
“Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” he asked her as he slid his hands up her sides (not skin-on-skin but skin-on-clothing, as she’d done to him earlier).
She shivered and arched against him, but she kept her hands where they were. “I’m not sure about the specifics, but I am sure that whatever it is that you have in mind, I’ll enjoy it.”
“You’re right,” Uruha replied as he undid the top hook of the negligee. “You will.” He would make absolutely sure of that. “I’m going to make you writhe for me.” He undid the second hook and then the third before reaching up and untying the small knot (he’d assumed correctly) at the back of her neck. Without anything left to hold it up, the negligee slid smoothly off of her body, and Uruha hummed in satisfaction, immediately taking advantage of her nakedness by leaning down and trailing his tongue along the valley between her breasts.
Maggie’s hands moved, then—one gripping his right shoulder whilst the other cupped the back of his head, her fingers pushing into his hair, lightly brushing against his scalp. She whispered his name but nothing else, her grip on his shoulder and her hold on his hair tightening as he took a detour, his tongue tracing over the top curve of her left breast before teasingly circling her nipple, giving her a light and fleeting touch.
“Yes?” Another circling motion, only in the opposite direction, still too light for her, he knew. Still not enough. It was deliberate, because he wanted her to ask for it. He wanted her self-control to crack and then shatter into a thousand pieces that couldn’t be put back together again (like Humpty Dumpty, only much better, because what’s fun about a cracked egg?).
“You’re doing this on purpose,” she told him, the accusation followed soon after by a soft groan. “It’s not fair.” She seemed to be conveniently ignoring the fact that she was often a rather sneaky, teasing little minx herself, and that she’d told him more than once that every move was fair play unless either of them had a specific aversion to said move (because it was no longer fun when consent wasn’t given, was it? That wasn’t part of the game). The thing was, though, that Uruha had never grown uncomfortable with her and she’d shown no indications of discomfort either, no matter how rough things had gotten.
“Don’t encourage me to make you have to swallow your own words, sweetheart,” Uruha purred lowly, now focusing his attention on her right breast, licking around the areola but not actually touching it—not yet. “Although I suppose you could say I’m already doing that, right? A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, I’m told.” He granted her the slightest flick of his tongue across her nipple, and that was enough to make her gasp and squirm a bit. Oh, how he loved to make her squirm.
“I’d rather swallow something else,” she said pointedly, making that ‘something else’ clear by slipping one hand between them and palming Uruha’s cock through his jeans.
For a moment, Uruha lost his composure. For a moment, he let himself hiss and arch into her touch. For a moment, he was tempted to let her take the lead. But that wouldn’t be right, would it? No, it wouldn’t, because it was still his turn, damnit, and he was going to play his hand well. He still had the ace up his sleeve—he still knew exactly how to reduce her to a momentarily senseless pile of highly sated goo.
… She could also very easily do the same to him, but that was beside the point at the moment. He simply had to keep her naughty wandering hands from wandering too much.
“Palms flat against the wall again,” he instructed as he gently swatted her hand away. When she gave him a mildly affronted look, he merely chuckled and closed his lips around her nipple, sucking hard enough to pull another one of those deliciously addictive moans from her. “Still my turn,” he reminded her, his hands moving to her hips. “You’ll have your turn soon enough, so be a good girl and put your hands against the wall.”
Maggie didn’t seem very happy about to restrain herself, and for a second, Uruha thought that maybe she would resist and that he would get to use his backup plan, which consisted of carrying her to the bedroom and cuffing her to the bedposts so that she would have no choice but to be (mostly) still and so that her distracting, wandering hands couldn’t wander at all. Plan B seemed to be proving itself unnecessary, however, for she didn’t put up a fight. She hesitated briefly, but then she placed her palms flat against the wall as she’d been instructed. Uruha had the feeling that she was cooperating simply because she was curious as to what he had in mind.
He wouldn’t disappoint her.
“That’s my good girl,” Uruha praised, moving once more to her left breast and giving it similar attentions that he’d given her right breast, tongue circling and then gliding over her nipple—firmer strokes but no less teasing. The same treatment, barring one fact: he decided to give her another taste of pain and pleasure together, teeth sinking into the sensitive skin surrounding her nipple. He was careful—there would be a mark here too, but it would be nothing like the one on her neck. This one would fade faster.
“Oh fuck,” she hissed, and the dull thud that Uruha heard was due to the back of her head hitting the wall. He could hear her hands scrabbling almost frantically against the wall now, too—perhaps seeking purchase of some sort, though it was unnecessary, for she was still standing upright.
“That will come later too,” he said as he pulled back, winking at her. Her gaze was more than a little unfocused when she looked down at him. Her eyes seemed drugged and glazed over and heated—she was staring him down and inviting him in all at once, and how was that even possible? She wanted, and she didn’t have to say it because Uruha could tell. She needed as well, but that didn’t have to be spoken, either, because Uruha could feel that need radiating off of her and meshing with his own need.
He had to look away, because if he didn’t, he’d run the risk of botching his turn—he’d give in and he’d be selfish. He’d tug her panties off and he’d tell her to turn around so he could fuck her from behind. Or, better yet, he’d make her get on her hands and knees. He’d give her carpet-burn, and while he knew that neither of those ideas were bad at all, they weren’t part of Plan A or Plan B or… Well. They simply didn’t fit tonight. However, when his turn ended, and if she requested such a thing, he’d gladly force one or both of those ideas to fit into the plan, if it was what she wanted.
Uruha slid to his knees, choosing to focus on the present rather than what could happen when his turn was up, because the mental images he conjured up were tempting enough to nearly lead him astray (the mind could be a very dangerous thing). Determination won over temptation, however, and he leaned in to nuzzle her thigh, rubbing his cheek against it and purring like a cat. “Now do you know what I’m going to do to you?”
“I have a pretty good idea.” Maggie’s answer was softly spoken, but Uruha’s ears did not deceive him. The anticipation and the need in her voice were palpable—not tangible, for sound was merely sound and was not visible or able to be touched, but he could feel her body thrumming with the emotions that were evident in her voice. She was cracking, self-control taking a backseat, and Uruha was the one currently in the figurative seat of power—he was the one making the rules right now.
Of course, that wasn’t to say that his rule was absolute, for he was teetering precariously on the edge of his throne and his fall was inevitable. It would happen as soon as his turn was over, if not before then. Better to enjoy having the upper hand while he could, because he knew his time to savor it would be short. She knew his weaknesses well.
Just as he knew hers.
Uruha could smell her, kneeling before her as he was. He could see the wetness (more evidence of her arousal) seeping through her panties, and the combined forces of smell and sight almost proved to be too much—almost made him forget that he was supposed to be the one in control right now. He could easily relinquish it; he could easily tell her that he’d do anything and everything that she asked in this moment.
But both of them already knew that, and Uruha knew what Maggie was silently asking for right now. She could ask without asking and he would give (even if it was still his turn), because that was how the game was played. He could use his acquiescence against her, and that was fair, too. He could give and take at once very easily.
He pressed his palm flat against her abdomen, fingers splayed, and he took a few seconds to admire the contrast of his skin and her skin. His skin was slightly paler than hers, and he found that fact to be interesting for some odd reason. Sometimes, he liked to get swallowed by the small details. Sometimes, he liked to get lost in the small sounds and the small gestures, too—like the way Maggie gasped and leaned into his touch (almost unnoticeable but he heard and he saw and he felt it all) when he stopped focusing on the contrast and started moving again, blunt nails raking down her toned belly, leaving red scratches behind.
He admired those, too.
“You’re awfully wet,” he breathed, sliding that same hand between her thighs again, lightly caressing, not enough pressure to satisfy. His fingers came back wet and he raised them to his lips, smiling up at her before slowly sucking on each digit, tasting the subtle spicy-sweetness of her, keeping his gaze locked on hers the entire time. “Maybe I should clean you up?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, her thighs spreading a bit more, though Uruha suspected that that particular action was subconsciously done. Nevertheless, he had his answer (had it before she’d even said it), and it was, perhaps, high time that the teasing ended – or at least slackened – anyway.
So, Uruha hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and he tugged gently instead of violently, knowing that if he tugged hard enough, he could tear them, but that was another temptation that he would save for another day. Instead, he focused on removing the flimsy, lacy barrier from her body the conventional way, sliding them down over enticing thighs and adorable knees (he though of her knees as adorable because the backs of her knees were ticklish) and further still until he reached her ankles. She took it from there, seemingly stepping easily and readily out of them, and once that was done, Uruha let his eyes trail slowly up her body until their eyes met once more. When he smiled, she returned it.
“Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” he asked yet again, but this time, he didn’t expect an answer, for he did not give her the opportunity to answer. Before even a single syllable could leave her lips, Uruha was leaning in, pushing her thighs further apart to make this easier for the both of them, and his tongue was circling her opening, briefly tasting her there before moving to her clit and back again. He was still teasing, in a sense—not giving her the speed or the pressure that he knew she wanted and needed, instead giving her light and leisurely barely-there licks against her wet, hot, sensitive skin.
Before long, Maggie was whimpering—not only cracking, not only bending, but breaking for Uruha, begging in soft near-sobs for him to please go faster, for him to please give her more. Victory and defeat were one and the same in this, for even as Maggie begged him, her self-control gone, Uruha’s own self-control slipped further and further away from his grasp. He found that he didn’t mind all that much, either (as he never did).
When he slid his tongue inside of her (as opposed to merely wandering close but not entering), Maggie moaned loudly, her legs buckling just a little, but Uruha was prepared for that, too. With his hands on her hips, he guided her down onto the carpeted floor, urging her to lay back. When she did, Uruha lifted her legs and placed them over his shoulders, and yeah, that made things easier too.
He resumed what he’d been doing when she’d still been standing, thrusting his tongue slowly inside of her until she was grabbing at the carpet, at her discarded negligee, at his forearms, unable to keep still, her thighs quivering. And as fun as this was, Uruha decided to change tactics yet again—to give her more, because more was what she wanted, and more was what he wanted to give.
Uruha closed his lips over her clit, sucking hard, and suddenly, her hands were in his hair again, fingers pulling at the blonde strands before pushing at the back of his head—she wasn’t being gentle, but Uruha didn’t mind, and besides that, he knew Maggie was far too gone by now to focus much on decorum.
“Uruha….” Maggie was panting now, grasping for words that she couldn’t quite seem to get out, or perhaps couldn’t even find in the first place. Uruha loved doing this; he loved reducing her to nonsensical whimpers and moans as much as he loved when she did it to him. It was one – and maybe the only – double-edged sword that he could happily with.
Uruha wanted to tell her that it was all right—he had her and he wasn’t going anywhere and he sure as hell wasn’t stopping, but his mouth was already occupied and she knew all of that, anyway. She didn’t need the comfort of hearing words like that because she already knew, and Uruha was pretty sure that she’d much rather have him continue what he was doing instead of saying words that didn’t have to be said. He would let his actions speak for him.
He sucked harder on her clit, his tongue now joining in the sweet torture, lapping rhythmically at her as he sucked, and he knew that this was what she needed—more than just light and teasing strokes. He wasn’t teasing anymore; he was giving her firm strokes with his tongue, giving her more pressure where she needed it most, and he knew that it wouldn’t take her long to come like this, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?
Maggie was gasping out obscenities between moans, saying his name like he was one exalted—risen above all others, and maybe in that moment, to her, he was. Her hips were moving too, grinding against him, and he knew that he could stop her if he wanted to. He could hold her hips down and dig his fingers in hard enough to leave bruises, but he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to allow her the freedom of movement, and so he didn’t bother to restrain her.
That’s right, he wanted to purr against heated, slick skin, I know exactly how you need it, baby. But yet again, he kept his thoughts to himself and slid his hands upwards to cup and squeeze her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples before moving back down again. Grinning inwardly, he slipped one hand underneath his chin and smoothly pushed two fingers into her (and oh, fuck, yes, she was tight and hot and clenching just a little), twisting his wrist this way and that before curling his fingers and rubbing.
It was the combination of his actions (and the constant movement of her hips) that drove her over the edge, and she came shouting Uruha’s name, her fingers tugging at his hair so hard that it was just this side of painful, her inner walls clamping down around his fingers and making him fervently wish that his cock was currently inside of her instead, but hopefully that was in the agenda for later. Or sooner, rather than later. But now that she’d came, it meant that his turn was over and her turn was just beginning. Uruha had no idea what she had in mind, but he knew that, whatever it was, he would enjoy it immensely.
Only when she’d settled down a little did Uruha draw back, slowly sliding his fingers out of her and licking his lips, tasting her there. He smiled and she returned it, her face flushed, her chest rising and falling with her still-slightly-rapid breathing.
She laughed, then, low and sweet. “Oh, Uruha. Every time you’re with me, you have to remind me just how dangerous that mouth of yours is, huh?” Her fingers were still in his hair, only they were gentle now, slowly combing through his golden strands.
“Why yes, darling, I do,” he replied cheerfully, trying to ignore the fact that his jeans were now almost unbearably uncomfortable. In an effort to distract himself (though some part of him knew that the distraction would probably only make matters worse), he brought the fingers he’d had inside of her to his lips, but before he could suck them clean, she was grabbing his wrist and bringing his fingers to her own mouth, sucking on them softly, her tongue flicking teasingly against his fingertips.
Uruha bit down on his lip in an effort to keep from groaning out loud, but the sound escaped him in spite of his efforts. “And you have to remind me just how dangerous that mouth of yours is.” His cock was twitching now, begging for the attention that she’d tried to give him earlier.
“Why yes, darling, I do,” she said as she released his fingers, echoing his earlier words and smiling sweetly at him, smugness barely hidden below the saccharine grin on her lips. Then she was laughing again, pulling him in for a kiss that was slow and gentle—giving, but demanding nothing in return.
Uruha let himself get lost in her kiss for several long moments before he eventually and unwillingly drew back, gently nudging at her legs, which were still draped over his shoulders. “Aren’t you getting uncomfortable like this? Wouldn’t want you getting muscle cramps~.”
“I’m fine~.” Nevertheless, she shifted, sliding her legs down his arms. “In any case, I’m thinking we should take this to the bedroom now, provided I can walk. It’s my turn now, isn’t it, baby?” That sweet smile returned, tinged with a hint of fake innocence, and she slipped her hand between them again, reaching down to squeeze Uruha’s length through the fabric of his confining jeans, causing him to gasp sharply. “Mmm. I think you’ve been incredibly patient and have gone ignored tonight for far too long.”
Uruha was very much inclined to agree. “Bedroom it is, then.” He grasped her hands and stood on somewhat shaky legs, bringing her to stand with him. It seemed that her legs were wobblier than his, and that meant that he’d achieved his goal.
“You and your damn mouth,” she muttered, though there was no malice to it. “And your damn fingers. Making my legs turn into something like jelly.” She leaned heavily against him. “Let’s walk.”
“Do you need me to carry you?” he asked teasingly, looping an arm around her waist as he took one step and then another, content to leave her negligee and panties where they were for the time being. They could retrieve them later.
“No,” she shot back, pinching his arm. “But if I fall, I’m dragging you down with me.”
“You won’t fall,” he assured softly, his tone more serious now. “I’ve got you.”
They made their way to her bedroom slowly, and with each step they took, her legs seemed to become less wobbly, and by the time they’d stepped inside of her bedroom, Maggie was no longer leaning against Uruha but she was still close to him—her arm was around him just as his was around her.
It was she who shut the bedroom door and it was she who strode across the floor to turn on the lamp that was on the nightstand. The surrounding area was then awash in dim light, and he thought that she might sit on the bed and tell him to come closer, but she didn’t. Instead, Maggie opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and fished through it, and when she’d apparently found what she was looking for, she came to stand before him, black silk – it reminded Uruha of the negligee and panties they’d left behind – clutched in one hand. He recognized it—it was a blindfold, and she’d used it on him more than once. Sometimes, she used it when he was ‘naughty’ and being ‘punished’. Sometimes, she used it just to tease. Tonight, he wondered what it would be used for.
“You aren’t being punished,” she purred softly, as though she’d read his mind. “I’m just going to make things a little more exciting for you~. Lean down.” When he did, she placed the blindfold over his eyes, tying it securely at the back of his head. It was then (much later than Uruha had anticipated) that she took advantage of the unbuttoned portion of his shirt, fingers dancing lightly over his skin, but it didn’t last. Less than seconds later, her touch was gone, and she was speaking again: “I want you to strip for me now.”
Uruha didn’t quite understand why she wouldn’t be the one undressing him, but he made no argument about it, his hands automatically lifting to unbutton his shirt, having to go by feel rather than sight now that the latter had been taken away from him.
He made sure to put on a show for her as he undressed, however, because if he merely stood there and took off his clothes, it wouldn’t be interesting at all. So while he stripped for her, he made sure that she would enjoy the sight of it. He ran his hands down the front of his body after he removed his shirt, and when he heard her whisper his name, his hands dropped down to the button and the zipper of his jeans. Once both of those were undone, he hooked his fingers beneath both his jeans and his boxers, pushing both of them down together, and when he wriggled his hips, letting them sway from side to side, it was mostly for her and only partly because the motion helped to rid him of the last remaining pieces of his clothing.
Uruha carefully stepped out of his jeans and boxers once he’d shoved them down low enough, and then he tugged his socks off too, glad that her bedroom floor was also carpeted, because he knew that a bare floor would be slightly chilly. Carpet meant that he wouldn’t have anything to worry about in that department.
Now there was the waiting, and it seemed to stretch on forever. He didn’t dare move, because she hadn’t told him to. Right now, he knew she was circling him—he could feel the heat of her body as she moved around him, and he could feel the heat of her stare, as well. She could swoop in and attack whenever she wanted; she could have already done it if she’d wanted, but she liked to surprise him. Maggie liked to make him wait, and he knew it, so he’d had to get used to being a little more patient than usual, when it came to her.
“What will you have me do next?” he eventually asked, caving in, wanting something more than the silence and the not-touches she was currently giving him. He could be patient, sure, but one could only take so much and he was heading towards his breaking point at a very high rate of speed. He’d been patient for a very long time, and being devoid of sight meant that he couldn’t glance at the digital clock on her nightstand, so he had no idea how many seconds or minutes had ticked by since he’d taken off his clothes.
Too many, his brain supplied unnecessarily. Or maybe it was his lower brain that informed him of such. He wasn’t entirely sure.
She chucked, the sound low and filled more with lust rather than amusement. “I will have you stand right here for a few moments more.” And then Maggie was touching him, pressing her naked body flush against his own, slipping a hand between them and slowly stroking his cock while she dipped her head, her teeth tugging at the silver hoop in his left nipple.
Uruha moaned, sliding his hands up her back, fingers following the curve of her spine. “Harder,” he whispered, and then quickly added, “please.” It was her turn, after all, and he should be asking nicely, anyway.
He could feel her smile against his skin before she tugged harder at his piercing, her fingers simultaneously squeezing around his length, and he arched into both sensations, his head reeling, the blackness whirling around him. He thought he might’ve stumbled, or perhaps he only imagined it. It was okay, though, because her hands were on him, helping to keep him steady and, at the same time, making him feel like his knees were going to give way at any moment. Somehow, he knew, however, that in spite of all the torture she could (and might) put him through, she wouldn’t let him fall. She couldn’t hold his full weight, and he knew this, too, but she would help him catch himself. The thought was strangely sentimental, but it was there, nonetheless. Unbidden, but there.
“Gonna fall?” she teased, clearly enjoying being the one with the most control right now (and evidently paying him back for earlier). She brushed her thumb over the head of his cock in a cruelly light caress, and Uruha could feel the pre-cum smear as her thumb moved.
“No,” he replied through gritted teeth as she slid down his body, and he didn’t have to see to know that she was now on her knees before him, their positions reversed. “But if I do, you’re coming down with me. The floor’s a convenient horizontal surface, anyway.”
Maggie made a soft humming sound as though she was considering his words. “But the bed is a much more comfortable~,” she reminded him before she replaced her hand with her mouth, the tip of her tongue pressing hard against the underside of his length.
He felt pressure, then—felt her suck hard, and he shuddered and moaned her name, pushing his hips forward without really meaning to, forcing himself deeper inside of her mouth. It was a little surprising when she let him do that, because he half-expected her to pull away or to push him back, but she let him press forward until he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat, her muscles convulsing and then relaxing around him, and that was fucking exquisite in its own right—that she was allowing him to do this.
She hummed again, and he felt that hum spread in all directions; he felt it spread to the tips of his toes and to his thighs and that hard knot of want in his belly. It traveled higher up, moving in spirals in his chest until he could finally feel it in his scalp, and it was maddening and ohsofuckinggood and he felt that he’d almost be willing to beg right now if she would just please never stop what she was doing right now.
Uruha felt one of Maggie’s hands again, between his thighs, fingers brushing almost delicately over his sac before moving further back, teasing at his perineum. When he felt them circle his entrance, he gasped and tried to press down and back, hoping that she would push them inside, not caring that there was no lubricant on them.
As soon as he did that, however, she drew back, making a tsk-ing sound as soon as his cock left her mouth (or rather, as soon as her mouth left his cock). “So very eager, Uruha,” she said, mock-chiding him. “I want you on the bed now.”
She looped one arm through his, guiding him, and when he felt his knees hit the bed, he asked, “In what position would you like me?”
“Oh, that’s very perceptive of you,” she told him, sounding pleased that he’d asked. “I would like you on your hands and knees. Go ahead and do that for me, and I’ll be right back.”
He noticed only when he climbed onto the bed that the bed was unmade, and he really didn’t believe that she’d been in bed before she’d called him. It was one of the smaller details that he hadn’t noticed before she’d blindfolded him. That was what losing sight did—it forced the other four senses to work overtime to compensate. Sight was gone but everything else was sharpened. Uruha had discovered that, for him, it especially heightened his sense of touch.
Uruha settled himself on his hands and his knees, ass shamelessly in the air, and he waited another small eternity for Maggie to return. He could hear her from somewhere behind him, and it sounded like she was looking for something, but since he couldn’t see her, he wasn’t entirely sure. Then he heard one of the drawers of the nightstand being opened again, followed shortly thereafter by a sound that he definitely recognized: a slick, wet sound, and that was when he realized what she was doing. The realization made him shiver and moan and press back against nothing.
Maggie was close to him now, her fingernails trailing down his spine, but that was the only part of her body currently touching him. She wasn’t on the bed, either, but standing next to it—this much, he knew.
“Legs further apart, you impatient whore,” she told him, and there it was, that further tipping of the scales so that the power was all on her side now. She was now the one reigning on the throne.
Uruha hurried to comply, shifting so that his thighs were further apart, and then, when she was apparently satisfied with the way he’d repositioned himself, he felt the cool touch of lubricant against his entrance, followed by the blunt tip of what he knew had to be a dildo. They’d played with those before, too.
“Do you know what this is?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious as to what his answer would be.
“Y-yes,” he answered, his voice suddenly hoarse and his mouth dry. He had to fight to not press back against the dildo like he’d pressed back against her fingers. If he repeated the action now, he was afraid she’d stop again.
“Don’t be so sure,” she warned in a low purr as she pushed the dildo forward, the head of it sliding into him. “I just might surprise you.”
Uruha had no clue what she meant by that and he couldn’t focus well enough to think about it too much—all of his efforts were currently focused on not shoving his hips back. She hadn’t prepared him, and despite the lubricant coating the dildo, he knew that there would still be the stretching and the burning as she worked the dildo into him, but he would enjoy that, too.
When she pushed the dildo in a little further, he whined, and she told him: “Take it like the cock-loving slut you are. I know you like it like this—a little too much, a little too soon, so take it.”
Uruha did. He took it, gasping and moaning and hissing as his hole was stretched, as he was filled. When she stopped, he realized the dildo was fully inside of him but he whined anyway and rocked his hips back, wanting more movement. She tsked at him again and smacked him lightly on the ass before giving him a few slow thrusts—in and out, in and out, in and out and in again, but it wasn’t enough and both of them knew it.
Then, Maggie was adjusting the angle, and what happened next made Uruha lurch forward violently, his forehead almost coming into contact with the headboard, though he wasn’t aware of that. What he was aware of, however, was the sudden humming (a mechanical sound this time) filling the room, filling his ass, pulsing strongly against his prostate. She’d never done this before, and he was almost certain that he would meet his blissful demise because of it.
“You have to learn not to be so sure of yourself, Uruha,” she said in an I-told-you-so manner. “Like I said, I might surprise you.”
Uruha writhed, uncertain as to whether he wanted to press back against the vibrator or to pull away from it. It felt fantastic, but at the same time, it was almost too much—that constant humming against such an extremely sensitive part of his body. If he could have done both – press and pull – at the same time, he would have.
“Please,” he said, unashamed of the fact that he was begging her and yet not quite understanding what he was pleading for in the first place. More movement? Less pressure? Less vibration? More vibration?
“Please what, baby?” she asked, her voice now close to his ear, the bed dipping when her weight was added to it. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” Uruha admitted, feeling helpless and wanting to accuse her of playing unfairly, but he knew that she was simply giving him a taste of his own medicine. If he’d done something similar, he would have told her that it was a fair move. That meant that what she was doing now could also be considered fair. Would have to be considered fair.
“I hate to tell you,” Maggie began, breath still hot against his ear, “but if you expect me to fuck you with the vibrator, it’s not going to happen.” She didn’t sound at all sorry, though—she didn’t sound like she hated telling Uruha that particular tidbit of information at all. She sounded smug, and Uruha supposed she had every right to sound that way, considering the position that she currently had him in.
He wanted to protest because the vibrator, inside of him like this (unmoving save for its steady pulsing), was too much and simultaneously not enough. It wouldn’t be enough to make him come, but it would be enough to push him right to the edge of it. It was already enough to make him whine and whimper and writhe and moan, arms and legs trembling slightly.
If she wasn’t going to fuck him with the vibrator, then what was she going to do?
That question was answered quickly enough: “It’s going to stay inside of you just like that. It’s not going to move, but you are. You are, because you’re going to fuck me.”
Before he could reply (or could even think to reply), Maggie was moving again, sliding beneath him and grabbing his hips, angling them differently. “You’re going to fuck me hard,” she continued, and then he felt her hand on his cock, guiding him. When he felt the tip of it nudge her slick opening, he groaned and fought not to shove forward, proud when he succeeded, though only just barely.
“Please,” Uruha said again, and this time, he knew exactly what he wanted.
“All right,” Maggie conceded, and then she gave him a warning: “You aren’t allowed to come until I tell you it’s all right. If you come before then, I’ll punish you. I’ll find a way to make you obey.”
“I-I don’t think I--”
“You can,” she interrupted. “You will.” And before Uruha had the chance to say anything else, she was shoving her hips up, impaling herself on him, taking him in all the way to the base of his cock in that one rough motion.
His moan echoed hers, and some distant part of his mind told him to movemovemove and to do it nownownow, so he did, pulling back and then slamming into her, his cock twitching when he was balls-deep inside of her again. He wasn’t sure if the twitching was due to the pulsing in his ass, or the way she felt (so tight and wet) around him, or the way she hissed his name when he shoved into her like that, but he was comfortable with chalking it up to a mix of all three.
It took them a few tries to find their rhythm, and Uruha blamed it on that damn vibrator and how both it and Maggie were making thought and movement so very difficult, because it seemed that when he moved, the vibrator would pulsate harder inside of him, and he knew that it was probably only his imagination, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to push back against the vibrator all the same, aching for more pressure even though, between Maggie and the vibrator, there was already too much stimulation. He wouldn’t last long and both of them knew that—it was just a matter of lasting long enough. Lasting until she told him that he didn’t have to anymore.
He gave her what she demanded, shoving into her hard and deep and fast, arms trembling due to the force of restraint. He wasn’t restraining his movements--he was restraining himself, trying his best to think of anything but the way she was rocking up to meet him, but she made that perfectly impossible. She forced his attention to remain on her and the vibrator—wouldn’t make holding onto his rapidly diminishing self-control easy for him. He didn’t expect any less from her, to be honest.
“Come on,” she urged when their rhythm started to – unsurprisingly – falter. She yanked him down into a fierce kiss, teeth sharp against his lips, tongue sliding wetly against his own, and he kissed back with enough force to bruise, forcing her to open her mouth wider lest she cut her lips on his teeth or on her own. Even while kissing her, he didn’t slow down, though it seemed that with each moment that passed, the movements of his hips became more and more erratic, less and less controlled, and he knew that she could feel it in his body and in her body—how he was losing all semblance of self-control.
Maggie was losing it too, though. Uruha could tell in the way she was writhing beneath him and in the way her fingers were pulling at his hair—twisting it and holding tightly, hard enough to really hurt, but that was almost nothing; it was almost completely ignorable. It was an almost pleasant touch of pain to lace through all of the pleasure that he was feeling, caught between her and the vibrator, so fucking close to coming that he could taste it and it burned and his balls ached but she hadn’t given him permission yet, and so he couldn’t come. He was determined to please her and to do exactly as she wanted, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.
Not going to last, he repeated to himself over and over again until it became a tuneless mantra. His thighs were burning, and it seemed that every part of his body was screaming for release. He could feel the beginnings of his downward spiral, his cock pulsing inside of her like the vibrator was pulsing inside of him, and he could feel the beginnings of her downward spiral too, in the way that she was tightening around him with each thrust now.
And it was too much—her tightening around him and the vibrator humming inside of him, right against his prostate. Too much stimulation, and it almost bordered on pain. He felt hot all over, too, like he was a fucking furnace, burning up on the inside, and Maggie was adding to the heat, fueling the flames.
“Come with me,” she said (demanded) against his mouth, and there it was: there was his permission, and he didn’t have to hold on anymore. So he didn’t try. Two more rough shoves of his hips and he was coming, not sliding easily into orgasm but crashing into it with her, vaguely aware of the fact that both of them were nearly screaming and her nails were raking hard down his back—he might’ve even been bleeding, but he didn’t care.
Finally, she stopped clenching around him and his cock stopped throbbing inside of her, but the steady hum of the vibrator could still be heard, and it was louder than their ragged panting. It was really starting to become uncomfortable now because he was feeling overly-sensitive since he’d reached orgasm, and he was more than a little grateful when he felt Maggie reach back and turn the vibrator off before slowly pulling it out of him.
“Thanks,” he finally managed, though he still sounded out of breath and his voice was muffled against her neck (and when in the hell had he buried his face against her neck?). He hoped that she would hear and understand and not think that he was speaking some new, virtually unknown language.
She understood, and she was equally as breathless when she replied, “For taking that out of you, or for something else?”
“For that,” he admitted, chuckling, “and for everything else tonight.” He meant it.
“You’re welcome,” Maggie answered, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice. “Thank you for agreeing to… entertain me.” She paused, and then ran one hand gently over his back, which was starting to sting just a little. “I left quite a few scratches here. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for any of it,” he told her, and he meant that, too. “You know I like it anyway~.”
“Yes, I know.” He couldn’t see her smile but he could hear it. She shifted beneath him and he slid out of her. The whimper that she made was almost enough to make Uruha want to push her back down so that he could press their bodies together again—so that he could get her worked up and wanting, and so he could grind against her thigh and her pelvis until he was hard again. Until he was ready to fuck her again.
Sadly, that would not be happening, because he didn’t feel like he had the strength for it. Every single muscle in his body seemed to be burning—soreness that would fade later, the cuts on his back were still stinging, like sharp little pinpricks, and he almost swore that he could still feel the vibrator inside of him, even though he knew it was gone.
Both of them were sweaty; he could feel strands of his hair sticking to his cheeks. He would have liked to take a shower, but he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to stand upright for that long at the moment. They would have to work something else out.
“I’ll be right back,” Maggie murmured, and Uruha felt her press a gentle kiss to his forehead before she was moving out from under him and leaving the bed altogether. During her absence, he realized rather belatedly that he was still wearing the blindfold, and he almost reached back to untie it, but he stopped in mid-motion, figuring it would be best to wait for Maggie.
She returned shortly thereafter, settling near him on the bed. “I’m going to undo the blindfold now, so be careful to not look directly at the lamp at first, even though it’s not bright at all.” He didn’t have to be told, because he already knew, but he made no mention of the fact that they’d done this before and he was already well versed in what to do when a blindfold was removed after one had been wearing it for an extended period of time.
He blinked a few times once the black silk was no longer robbing him of his sight, slowly letting his eyes readjust to the dim lighting of the bedroom. When he turned to look at her, she was still smiling. “Had a hell of a time getting to the bathroom, thanks to you. Not that I’m complaining.” She then offered a couple of towels, one wet and one dry. “I cleaned up a little while I was in there. Had to sit down because I didn’t trust my balance, and I figured you might appreciate the chance to clean up a little, too. It isn’t a shower, but… it’ll suffice until morning, I think.”
Uruha could live with that. “Towels will be fine for now, since I don’t think I’m capable of standing long enough for a shower at the moment.” He took the towels from her gratefully, cleaning up as best as he could, and even though he knew he wasn’t squeaky clean, he believed he was clean enough. Maggie was right: they could shower in the morning.
When Uruha gave the towels back to Maggie, she tossed them onto the floor, declaring that she would worry about them and everything else in the morning, because it was too damn late now to bother with it, and she didn’t want to wobble down the hallway like a drunkard, anyway.
They wound up cuddled together, limbs comfortably intertwined. It was moments like this that Uruha enjoyed almost more than the sex (if that were possible)—when everything was quiet and they simply existed together, suspended in time. Sometimes, they would talk softly and laugh about the stupidest things, and sometimes, they would snuggle and fall asleep that way. Uruha knew that tonight was going to be one of those ‘snuggle and fall asleep’ nights.
“Uruha?” she suddenly asked, sounding on the edge of surrendering to the Sand Man.
“Mm?” Okay, so Uruha didn’t sound much better, and he was fully aware of that.
“You’ll stay?” He loved moments like this, too, because it was moments like this that she showed him a completely different side of herself. This was Maggie, open and unmasked and human and vulnerable, and she was letting him see her like this, in all of her vulnerability. And she was asking him to stay.
“I’ll stay,” he assured her, pulling her closer and kissing her forehead. “And in the morning, we can shower. And I’m making waffles!” He snickered. “If you want waffles, that is.”
If Maggie’s eyes were currently open, he was sure that she’d roll them. “Fine, Donkey,” she replied, unsurprisingly catching his reference to Shrek, “we’ll take a shower and then we’ll see about the waffles. Now go to sleep.”
What they had was easy—friends with benefits, no strings attached. They could fuck and cuddle afterwards; they could laugh and act like complete dorks with one another, no problem. They could see other people, because that was what it meant when no strings were attached. Neither of them had a very good track record, when it came to relationships, and so, Uruha hadn’t factored romance into their happy little equation.
Things changed, sometimes. Hell, things changed all the time, right?
“A man could fall in love,” he murmured, his words nearly inaudible, as he combed gentle fingers through her hair.
“Hmm?” she asked, obviously half-asleep.
Uruha smiled and kissed her cheek. “Nothing,” he replied, not wanting to worry her with such talk right now. It could be saved for later, too—maybe when they were making the waffles.
Because maybe, just maybe, it was time to rethink the equation.
OH MY GOD THAT TOOK FOREVER. Maia-chan, it was supposed to be just… just fluff at first, I swear, because fluff actually fit the damn prompt that I found, but noooooo. Damn horny minxes wanted porn, and it spiraled completely out of control. Apparently, when they want porn, it is a matter of srs bzns.
This also kept me squirming for days, just so you know. D:
I hope you enjoyed reading, darling. I’m sorry it was so damn late. *clings to* <3333333333333