Disclaimer: standard
AN: I first get the idea of this story for a short film my friend is going to make. We're joining a local amateur film competition with this year's theme "strangers" (hence, the title. I know, I'm uncreative :P). Me and my friend are writing for the film and this was the first idea we had in mind. Unfortunately, he rejected this story and went for my other story instead. I really like the idea in this one, so I decided to make it a KK smutty/lemony fanfic even though it will become a little OOC :P it's my first lemon as well… this fic's gonna have short chapters everytime, and consist of two or three chaps, but I hope u like it and don't forget to review!
Btw, why do they call the smut thingy, lemon??
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STRANGERS
Chapter 1: February 1st
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Neither of them knew who approached who in the beginning. Before they knew it, he was feeling her pinkish and soft skin against his, and strands of black hair knotted in his fingers. He tasted her sweet lips and caressed her body with his rough hands. His amber eyes were staring hungrily at her soft sapphire eyes. He needed a release; he didn't care who she was. He just needed something to make him feel alive. Something to make sure that he was real.
He cupped her tender breast with his one hand, while his mouth devoured her plum lips passionately. His other hand was travelling around her curve, as if trying to remember every slope it traced. As their kiss became more and more heated, he lifted her body and threw her on the bed. His lips trailed down to her neck, and her cleavage, and then her breasts, licking and sucking mercilessly, while he started to undress her. Her hands were also trailing impatiently over his body, trying to get rid whatever barrier he had left, so that she could feel his skin against hers. Soon, their clothes were on the floor and they were touching each other's bodies, becoming more savage everytime they felt the rising temprature. He explored every inch of her naked skin with his lips and tongue, savouring her delicate taste in his mouth, while his hand caressed her in her most sensitive place. He knew very well how to handle a girl in the bed. In a split second, she was moaning in pleasure with her head tilted back, out of control. Her hands grasped his body with a strong grip, while her body was trembling hand, and she was soaking wet. He knew perfectly that it was time. With one violent movement, he was inside her.
The more she reacted, the more he would act violently. He loved to hear her screaming, whether it was an embodiment of pain or pleasure. He loved to feel the rushing blood all over his body when he moved rhythmically against her. He loved the burning feeling he had when their skin touched. He loved it when his head started to spin and his vision became blurry, and all he could hear was their loud pant, her wild moan and groan, and the sound of their bodies being crushed together on the bed. He could even think that he actually loved the naked stranger under him.
After their heated sessions, she fell asleep because of exhaustion while he went into the bathroom to take a hot shower. He came out of the shower, and his mind became clear again. He hated it, because his cold reality was nowhere as liberating as his long, blurry hours with his stranger. Only after his long bath did he realize that she didn't look so grand and alluring like she was before. Somehow, he was not disappointed. She was still gorgeous. Her skin was pale, almost transparent, contrasting her long, jet black hair. She looked so small, wrapped up in a white blanket, almost like a little kid sleeping in her mother's embrace.
He smiled faintly at the sight.
She looked like an ink painting masterpiece.
Too bad he didn't really know how to appreciate paintings that well. His heart was still, even though he admitted that she was one of the most beautiful views he had ever seen in his life. He sighed. Maybe he was made of ice. Frozen and cold.
So he put on his clothes, and took his wallet and phone, and left the hotel room. He didn't bother to write a goodbye note to the stranger, nor to leave his phone number for her. He didn't even know her name. It was always a one time thing, and after a cup of coffee in this Sunday morning, he would forget everything. He would forget her existence.