Ooh la la. My first smut features catdick, shower hand jobs, and dirty talking. This is for all my fellow thirsty Monochrome shippers out there. Enjoy~
-yurImperial
How do Cats Clean Themselves? With Help, of Course.
And a scalding shower doesn't hurt.
The water was hot and pounding, turning Weiss's pale skin pink in minutes. I had thought it would be a good idea to shower together - to spend some time alone and away from our prying teammates, for once - but I failed to consider what effect it would have on me. From her initial sigh of contentment when she stepped under the relaxing spray, I could already feel myself hardening. Now my thoughts spring to the last time Weiss's skin looked this flushed, red-marked and raw beneath me, and my condition only worsens. I squeeze my thighs together, hoping to hide my burgeoning arousal until I can reign in some control, but Weiss is no fool.
"Ohoho, so this is why you wanted to shower together?"
Weiss pulls me closer by my waist and I turn my back to her, blushing. Her skin is warm, the water almost scalding, my loins aching like fire.
"Naughty Blake, manipulating me with ulterior motives." Her hands slide over the curve of my hips, palms flattening to the contours of my skin, wet-on-wet smooth. "How about now I... manipulate... you?"
An involuntary shiver accompanies her words, though if it's my own reaction I'm feeling or Weiss's, I'm not sure. I attempt to hold my breath as she traces my abs, but the sensation shakes me with tremors and my lips part in a harsh exhale. Her fingers slip lower, flowing like the shower water over my mons and finally dipping under to dig into the mushy, wet, feminine flesh beneath my erection.
"But first," she says over my gasp of surprise, "This filthy kitty needs to be cleaned up."
Weiss's bold words would surprise me if the absence of her fingers filling my core wasn't the entire focus of my thoughts at the moment. To my disappointment, she reaches past me for a bottle of body wash and deposits a drop in the center of a wash cloth. It leaves my field of vision for a moment, though the scent of lavender mixed with steam envelops me in its silky folds. I let my eyes close and lift my nose to inhale the pungent fragrance. Weiss's wet, soapy arms surround me again, coaxing a delighted purr from me as easily as scratching my ears as she starts to wash my body.
Weiss often complains about how quiet I am in situations like these, so I hum to show her my enjoyment. I push back into the twin points of stiffened flesh digging into and feel Weiss's breasts flatten against my skin. In response, Weiss's wash cloth moves up to my own breasts and stay there longer than necessary to get them clean. The slightly abrasive texture of the cloth snags on my nipples, pulling them taught and hard beneath her fingers before traveling back down between my legs. My knees go weak as she wraps my length in the wash cloth and tugs toward my crotch, the lather nearly gone but the sensation still oh-so good that I stiffen to my full length in seconds. And just as quickly, the encompassing pressure and texture vanishes; I whine deep in my throat before I realize what I'm doing and settle for sinking more of my weight against Weiss.
She takes her time pouring more gel onto the cloth, every movement maddeningly slow when all I want is for them to pump up and down as fast as her scrawny arms can move them. My bodily desires almost win out, but I stop myself from reaching for her wrist and guiding her back to my throbbing erection - rather, I close my eyes again and focus on smell. This one is vanilla. I pull deep breaths in through my nose and release them through my mouth, falling into a rhythm just when a new sensation tears through it like punch to the jaw. A moan flies from my lips and I slap a hand over them.
"We want this to be extra clean, yes?"
I nod dumbly, unable to squeeze any words past my heaving chest. Glancing down, I see the wash cloth bulging out from my crotch with Weiss's delicate fingers wrapped around it, the tip twitching back and forth. But I feel-
Oh, sweet Remnant.
Un-lathered soap squishes around my shaft, feeling not entirely unlike actual penetration when Weiss is particularly turn on. The lotion's cool temperature is a shock against my inflamed skin but quickly warms as body heat and friction act on it. Weiss is sure to work every inch of me as though cleanliness really is her primary objective in this exercise. By the time she's done, my head is spinning and my erection is coated in white foamy suds, looking like I already came. But the best is yet to come.
Discarding the wash cloth, Weiss encircles my girth just below the head with her thumb and forefinger, and with a gentle tug toward the base, tests the lubrication. I nearly lose myself to my Faunus side then and there as I buck my hips into her palm with a harsh grunt, unrestrained and pleading. I can feel her lips contort into a lusty grin at the reaction and her fingers slide agonizingly back to the tip. Suds and probably a little pre-come drip between her fingers to join a smattering of wash-off at our feet. I brace myself for another tug, but instead Weiss changes tactics, rolling my shaft between her fingers, kneading the swollen flesh with special attention paid to the sensitive underside. My knees actually come close to buckling, but luckily Weiss is supporting some of my weight. She chuckles and we move into a better position where I can lean my forearms against the side wall and Weiss can press into me comfortably from behind.
She resumes the rhythmic massage with added pressure, her other hand coming in to press my shaft down against the fingers curled beneath. Skin-on-skin, I decide, is the most wonderful, heavenly sensation. We were smart and left the direction spray of water, so her fingers are still slick and only continue to grow more so. I rest my forehead against the tiled wall, barely keeping my moans regulated to heavy panting, the need to thrust my hips like a jackhammer to a controlled nudge under Weiss's ministrations. But when she suddenly forgoes the gentle treatment and knuckles down, all thoughts of restraint are blown instantly from my mind; the driving pace of her fist is a direct demand to sprint for the finish line, and my body is singly dedicated to compliance.
With her other hand, Weiss holds my waist still as she pumps brutally along my shaft. My feet are planted, my legs standing solid through the pure tension of mind-numbing pleasure along, but the rest of me slumps against the shower wall. Weiss's hips grind into mine as she, too, gets fully into the act. I would imagine her plowing me from behind for added arousal, but I fear that it would merely make me come instantaneously, and likely painfully. As it is, my pants break into sharp gasps in time with Weiss's driving rhythm.
Pull. Gasp. Push. Pant. Pull. Gasp. Push. Pant. Pull-
My voice is a high, keening whine that cuts off into a whimper as Weiss releases me. My mind reels with an emotion approaching rage as the shimmering edge of euphoria I was racing to meet slips away, but Weiss is already slipping between me and the wall, her lips finding my neck and her hands finding my cock. She whispers to me but it takes a moment to register anything but the blood roaring in my ears.
"Thrust, Blake. Come on. Move your hips - that's it, just like we're in bed."
She's gentle and commanding at the same time, something that only Weiss can pull of with such seductive charm. But it had taken only the pressure of her fingers around my shaft to take matters into my own hands - well, hips. I cling to her upper body, my lips crushing against her for a rough, breathless moment before requiring more oxygen than my lungs contain. I settle for nuzzling her neck, the smell of lavender and vanilla and sweat and Weiss simply intoxicating.
"Are you imagining my hand is my pussy?" Weiss blurts, and ironically, this is what spreads my blush all the way up to the tips of my ears.
Is Weiss actually attempting dirty talk?
"Or my mouth?" she continues. "Or, maybe..." she pauses to lick her lips theatrically, "Something else?"
My mind wanders to all those wondrous possibilities, memories of each sensation unique and overpowering.
"Oh fuck..." My voice pitches higher on the expletive, goading her to say more, daring her to push me past the edge.
Weiss sucks a breath in through her teeth and fakes a groan. "Fuck me, Blake! Make me yours. Mark me! Claim me!"
And mark her I do. With a guttural growl originating somewhere in the chest of my great-great-great-grandfather, I coat Weiss's belly in stripes of white-hot searing bliss six, seven, eight times before the clenching becomes too taxing and I finally slump against her. Chest heaving, I wrap her in my arms and we step back fully into the spay of water. It courses over us, down my neck, over my shoulders, my clavicle, my chest, down my abdomen, along my legs and inner thighs. It slips through where our skin is touching, still soap-slick in places, warming and relaxing my fatigued muscles as though I spent the night training with Yang. But secret training with Weiss, I decide, is far more enjoyable.
Once I catch my breath, I pull away enough to look my girlfriend in the eyes and raise an eyebrow at her.
"So. Dirty talking, huh?"
She stammers and blushes like I said this out in public, and the sudden change in confidence makes me squeeze her tighter.
"It was fun; I'll try it out with you next time."
She just pulls away and reaches for a new wash cloth.
"In any case, we better get cleaned up again."
But I can tell she's hiding a smile out of sight, even if she won't show me. That's fine. I'll just have to try extra to earn it when it's her turn. Who knows - she did get me to speak up, after all.