Alright, it's a Saturday, I've typed some of my story and I've just chilled for a bit. So I have some time to do a quick one shot. One of the prompts I received earlier. However I probably only have time to just do this one.
That in mind...this week on Who Let The Asexual Write Smut; Icy/Gantlos! Yeah but seriously, this one's gonna be a bit more…graphic than some of my usual work.
Icy had never met a man she loathed quite as deeply as Gantlos. The man was horrid and damnable really. Everything about him pissed her off. That flowing blonde hair, that snide smile, those ridiculously sharp cheekbones, and that God-forsaken cowboy hat he always insisted on wearing.
They found themselves only together because both needed another to assist with paying rents and paying bills. Which just so happened to be their topic of debate tonight.
"You have enough cigarettes." Icy hollered, "how about instead of buying more, you…I don't know…save the money to pay the utility bills."
"To hell with the utilities!" Gantlos shouted back with a large arching arm gesture. "We don't need them."
Icy slammed her fist on the table. "Don't we?" She edged closer to the man. "Because I've always been under the impression that indoor plumbing is one of the crucial things that separates us from the Neanderthals over in the cave realm."
"English please?"
Icy cast him a glare. "You're such a child."
"Can a child do this?" He asked lighting up one of his cigarettes.
Under different circumstances that would have been very much of a turn on. The slow way he moved the stick to his lips…the way he exhaled a puff of curling smoke…
Instead she offered him only a scowl.
"Fine. Forget it." Icy growled, knocking the papers and forms off of the table. "I'm going to go take a shower before they—whoever they are—shut it off." Without so much as a glance back she stormed off down the hall.
It took more effort than it should have on her behalf to not slam the bathroom door. She turned the shower knob, setting it as cold as she possibly could. Moron. Absolute. Fucking. Moron. Icy fumed inwardly. And yet she couldn't bring herself to rid herself of the man.
Deep down she enjoyed his games. The challenge he provided her.
Not one person, aside from Gantlos had ever been stupid enough to square off against her.
There was something rather alluring about it.
Something attractive about a man who wouldn't make things easy…
Just what is that something?
Apparently the man wasn't going to let her find out either; his obnoxious knocking made a serious obstacle for her train of thought.
"Go away Gantlos."
"Go away? Come on, I think I want to take a shower too, ya know. Before they shut off the water."
Icy rolled her eyes. And yet she allowed herself a quiet laugh. That man truly is a piece of work. "And why should I allow you the pleasure?"
"What pleasure?"
"The pleasure of taking a shower and being in the company of yours truly."
"Fine." He spat, "I didn't really want to shower anyhow.
She could hear his footsteps growing fainter. "Get in here dumbass." She hollered. "I was just finishing up anyhow." Icy stepped out of the shower and wrapped the nearest towel around her body. No sooner, Gantlos invited himself in.
"I didn't mean now!"
"Well sorry." He muttered as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. Icy looked the man up and down. His tanned skin. His muscular build; the kind of build that always bought images into Icy's mind—mostly of her tracing her tongue over the lines of his abdomen.
Slow and sexy…
She cast the though aside.
"But time's wasting…who knows when the water will shut off."
Icy's face flushed in both mild irritation and a sort of embarrassment. "I don't think I have ever hated a being more than I hate you."
"What about the red head?"
"Oh you're getting there."
Gantlos chuckled. He enjoyed it…
Making her angry. Coming up with new ways to work her into some sort of rage. The ice witch had always been much more fascinating to him when she was mad. She looks powerful. That's what it is. Gantlos decided. Fierce. Something he didn't quite see often in the other women he surrounded himself with.
They were all soft and gentle. They all seemed to do what he said, simply because he said it. This one. This one is a fighter. A faint smile played across his lips. I need a fighter.
"And you aren't even paying attention…" Icy grumbled.
"Not entirely true." He shrugged. "A woman, wearing just a towel, screaming at you is very hard to miss." He burst out into a fit of laughter.
"Is that right?" Icy arched an eyebrow. She whipped the towel off, balled it up, and threw it into his face. "Bet you're paying attention now…aren't you?" She shot him a coy little smirk.
"Oh yeah, definitely paying attention…"
She stood there for a moment, water trickling down over her body from her hair leaving multiple trails along flawless, pale skin.
Holding their locked stare, she turned around slowly to reach for her clothing—a silky, soft blue nightshirt and a matching pair of bottoms. Her gaze fell away, leaving him to his thoughts. He should turn away, he knew, it was the …decent thing to do. The respectful thing.
But he couldn't bring himself to tare his eyes away from her tall, slender form. Icy was a different kind of beauty, he realized. It's true, the woman lacked the pronounced, in-your-face curves. But she didn't need them…
She had that bold personality to make up for that. No, she had a more subtle figure. Almost…gentle—if he could pick a word—a sharp contrast to her persona.
Three years of living together and he hadn't noticed nor appreciated it, not even once.
She draped the clothing articles over her arms and shot a glance back at him, that smirk still intact. As she slipped into her nightwear. "Disappointed? I do hope you weren't expecting this to go anywhere." She drummed those long nails on the surface of the porcelain bathtub.
If her aim was to get him to pay attention to her words…that plan was a complete failure. Despite his best efforts his eyes lingered quite a bit lower than her face.
The pale fabric of her night-clothing clinging tightly to her wet figure, highlighting everything Gantlos longed to see…
To feel.
Before he could withdraw it, his hand slid softly over her cheek, brushing under her dripping bangs and over her ear.
Neither uttered a word.
He could hear her steady breathing.
Smell the spearmint on her breath.
He pulled her closer, feeling the soft of her breasts beneath fabric, against his bare chest. And still Icy said nothing.
Gantlos trailed kisses up and down her neck, sucking away what remained of the shower water.
His hands slid down her back, rubbing lightly over her smooth, frigid, delicate skin. His left hand fell lower, dipping slightly down her pajama pants and lingered there. An unsettling feeling washing over him.
Gantlos pulled away. "I…I'm sorry. Too far." He sputtered, cracks forming in his composed demeanor. "I shouldn't…"
"The more you talk, the less attractive you are." Icy mumbled. She pulled him back, running her fingers over those perfectly structured cheekbones she hated so much.
Love and hate—Icy decided—are practically the same, they're a part of each other really. She trailed her long blue-clade fingernails up Gantlos' abdomen. At some point in the night, the two—love and hate that is—had become the same to the witch.
His hand found its way up her shirt.
Both create burning passion of sorts.
Icy ran her tongue over his lips, before offering the bottom one a slight nibble.
Gantlos returned the gesture with his own set of sloppy kisses. His lips pressing hard and wet against her own. She could taste the cigarette still on his breath, as he could taste the spearmint on hers.
What a perfectly destructive pair we can be…she mused. Her fingers traced lightly over his spine and trailed over to his midsection, drumming lightly where they lie. She slipped herself into a crouch, tongue tickling him from the bellybutton up.
Once at eye level she cocked her head slightly to the left, steel-blue eyes peering up at him. Mouth slightly parted. She moved those careful fingers up and down her shirt, undoing only the first two buttons. Gantlos found himself over taken by a wave of pleasure. The ice woman knew exactly what she was doing.
He fumbled with the rest of the buttons and pulled her into another kiss. This one much deeper than the first.
Icy's hands fell to his waist, pushing his pants down slowly with them.
She broke the kiss. "Well go on then…" she purred—low and breathy—gripping the flaps of her unbuttoned top. "Don't be shy."
Gantlos tugged her arms out of shirt, she draped them around his neck where she lay a few more ice-riddled kisses.
Kisses that left a pleasantly blistering cold on his flesh.
"Well, don't let me do all the work."
"Of course not." He grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it." His finger grazing her nipple.
"Good…" she trailed off as he lifted her from the ground. Her long hair showering him with a spray of bathwater.
He carried her down the hall and to the bedroom. "I feel like this would be much comfier. Yes?"
"Of course."
Gantlos lie Icy down on the bed, her unbound hair fanning out behind her, over the pillows and over her shoulders. He cast the rest of his and her clothing to the floor across the room and sat atop her long slender legs.
Icy gripped his wrists, pulling his hands to her belly. He moved his pointer in small circles over her midsection, and then up and down those slight curves. His hands hugged her hips firmly.
"Go on." Icy nodded.
Her head fell back, arms gripping the sheet as he slipped inside her.
It became something of a song; rhythmic and careful…trying to get each note right. Each thrust eliciting a different sensation of pleasure. A new melody. Icy's arms wrapped over his back, her fingernails clawing into his skin.
Gantlos withdrew for a moment.
Icy's breathing was heavy and rugged.
And yet her body remained chilly as ever, pressed against his.
"I was never one to stay on bottom" she declared, voice pleasure hazed. Icy gave Gantlos a not so gentle shove, turning him onto his back. Now looming over him on her hands and knees, her hair dangled in his face.
His hands brushed behind two curtains of hair, resting again on her breasts. He let his mouth join them licking from her cleavage up to her neck—a kind of imitation of what she'd pleasured him with.
Her eyes skimmed down his body; down that delicious well sculpted chest…abdomen, everything. The man was a work of art really and truly, from his head to the not-secrets-anymore that he didn't plan on revealing that night.
But there they were…
The two of them.
She dug her nails into his back again, this time etching a thin set of softly weeping parallel lines. A motioned that caused him to squeeze the soft flesh in his hands.
"I have told you that you're a terrible person right?" He questioned.
She smirked, "the absolute worst."
.oOo.
Icy lie next to him, still naked, holding the bedsheets at her chest. Gantlos flattened himself against her back, nuzzling his chin in the crook of her neck.
The ice witch is a heavy sleeper, he came to note. When she's out, she's out. Gantlos had been waiting for her to awaken for at least an hour now, if not two. There was much to discuss, many words to speak…among them a promise to save some money for the bills.
In just one night the woman had become someone he didn't want to lose.
Indeed he needed someone like Icy. Someone to put him in his place when he needed it, someone to put up a good fight and then gratify him all the same in a night of sheer passion. Someone who could hate him when need be and love him when it was right. Someone who wasn't afraid of him.
She needed that too, he knew.
They were indeed perfect together. Perfectly destructive, no doubt. But perfect no less.
He ran his finger through her silver locks.
Perfect…