I do not own Shaman King.
Her scent poisoned him, made him squirm, tremble.
He wanted more.
She felt his fingers playing with her hair, her neck, her back, her arms almost mischievously, always exploring, always searching for more. They caress her face, her hips, sometimes he'd focus all his attention on her breasts, dabbing them not too strong, not too soft, he'd explore the small gaps in the low of her back with patience.
"Hmm"
Every night was like that, a game, a competition, they would try to prove one another who could explore more, play more, make the other moan the most, they'd test their limits every night.
It never started the same way, yesterday was while he was cooking, she just came and turned off the stove, took off his apron, she didn't say a single word. In the afternoon he turned off the TV and looked defiantly at her, some fear at the back of his eyes, they were airing her favorite soup opera, she saw that little mischievous smile gracing his lips.
She loved that smile.
Sometimes they would play placing small bites and scratches on eachother's skins, feeling him oh so close to her excited her even more, the heat, the pressure, sometimes she'd end with a headache after a hair pull a little too strong that drew the sharpest moans from her mouth, he never imagined in his teens that the all powerful tyrant could moan, purr like a kitten.
It was his own personal and secret revenge, making her wait, torture her almost, take her to the edge and then stop only to start all over again and take a little longer this time, feeling her scratching his back harder each time.
Sometimes he'd slam her against the bed or the couch, whichever was closer, he'd kiss her and lick her, she'd feel his hungry hands against the side of her breasts and he would feel her tense up, clutching the sheets a little stronger only to minutes after resume control and restrain him from enjoying her weakness any longer; with her long legs all wrapped up against him and a sparkle in her eyes inviting him to play with her breasts they would continue their little experiments for the rest of the night.
"Ahh"
No words were exchanged, they knew eachother's body too well, he knew when he needed to go faster, slower, she knew when to put more pressure on her grip.
She would sometimes bent for him and with her right hand -always the right hand- she'd whip the remnants off the corner of her mouth after feeling the slight tremor that ran through the entire body of his lover and the warmness in the inside of her mouth.
He'd often wonder who was really the dominant one. Was it really him, amid all the forging and authority with which he'd distracted her from her daily activities? Or was it her who'd make him go back for more without even trying?
Well, shi-. This was difficult to translate.
English is not my first language so if you have any suggestions on how I could improve my writing that would really help me a lot, any advice or if you catch any mistake please let me know through a review, it won't take you long I assure you ;_; also I would love to read your opinion, much love and thanks for reading.
Robín