He's relentless tonight, Snow thinks as her slick feet slide forward in her high-heeled pumps. She winces at the pinch of leather and tries to rock back, but it's next to impossible when she's bent over her desk and Bigby's pressing her face into some paperwork. He's got one hand wrapped around her throat while the other grips her hip, pulling her back into every jarring thrust. It has to be a dominance thing, keeping her prone while he takes his pleasure. Usually he's polite (hell, Bigby's downright subservient when it comes to their trysts) but something has him on edge tonight, teetering between the man and the wolf until he's nothing but hormones and claws.
It doesn't hurt, not really. After three orgasms, she's relaxed in every sense of the word, but the position is far from comfortable. Her back is starting to ache, the underwire beneath her left breast is poking into her rib cage, and she just can't seem to fill her lungs. Still, there are some perks to being fucked from behind. Her clit keeps brushing up against the desk and she has to do exactly none of the work. After a long day of being bitched at and harangued by toads and pigs, she feels almost lazy, white knuckles and slick thighs aside.
"That's my good girl," Bigby grunts as leans forward until his chest is flat against her back. Now it's even harder to breathe, she realizes as she tries to suck in some much needed air, but then Bigby presses his mouth against her neck. His canines feel like thumbtacks, but it's the first time he's kissed her all night. He licks at her skin and maps her ear with his mouth, which feels sweet and tender compared to the heavy, punishing slide of his cock. Bigby's show of power is hell on her joints, not to mention her unmentionables, but the sex is exhilarating. She wants him to stop, to never stop, and the confusion is nerve-wracking. She's afraid to come again, that another climax will rip her apart.
She's never felt more alive.
"One more baby," he whispers into her cheek as his hand slides around her thighs. "Just one more. For me." She hisses and shifts away from his the knife edges of his claws, but they only skim her thighs. Something in her relaxes, maybe the knot in her throat, right before it clenches again. He's got his palm pressed right where she needs it, right against the tight point of her pleasure, and fuck, she's coming again. It's too much, he's too much, and now she really can't breathe.
"Goddamn it, Bigby, not like this," Snow pleads, but he only fucks her harder. The whole desk is shaking now, or maybe that's just her nerves. His palm presses down brutally against her clit, and shit, there it is again. She's going to come, and if this were a cheap porno, she'd chant that in a high-pitched voice and then shriek like a banshee. But she's Snow White, damn it, and she's not about to debase herself by screeching. As everything in her tightens and the pleasure stings across her skin, she brings her forearm to her mouth and bites into her sleeve. The heavy fabric of her blazer muffles her groans and whimpers, and she counts that as a victory for her self-respect.
Bigby hears her though, and expresses his displeasure by clapping his hand against her ass. She's just about to tear him a new one for spanking her when he goes still, panting into her ear and pulsing wetly between her thighs as he finishes. Thank God it's over, she tells herself as he collapses against her. Breathing is a challenge, but at least he's finally spent and soft inside of her. Snow is no shrinking violet, but she's not sure she could handle climaxing five times in a row.
She gives him a moment to recover. Despite his lupine stamina, he's really a one-and-done kind of guy when it comes to getting it up, not that she cares. She's always made like a bandit in terms of getting her rocks off. At least when it comes to him. For all his devil may care antics in regards to the rest of his life, Bigby's a considerate and undeniably giving lover. If he preened about his skills, she just might have to kill him, but he's never so much as asked about his performance.
"What was that about?" she murmurs as he nuzzles his nose into her hair. Bigby only grunts and sniffs at her ruined chignon. She wonders if he's making a memory.
"Nothing," he lies. It's definitely a lie. They make love with startling regularity, though they don't call it that. As friends with benefits, they hook up, or knock boots if she needs a laugh. He only fucks her like an animal when something's wrong. She won't call him on it until she's cleaned up and he's a little less toothy. Then she'll question him until he gives in from exhaustion.
"How did your meeting with Charming go? You two were in your office for hours."
But then again, maybe she won't have to.
Since this is a small fandom, I don't think I'm going to start any big stories (not when I have several waiting in the wings), but these two characters are too fun to leave alone. I think I'll just post the occasional tidbit whenever I feel antsy.
Happy reading!