Irresistible
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Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this piece (all two of them) are the creations and property of Marvelous Something, and are used here without permission, and no profit, for more reasons than that no one in their right mind would pay money for this sort of thing. XD
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Notes: This is just a Super Extendo Remix of one of the sentences for my Gotz/Elli 1sentence piece. "Stop", by the way. I started writing that one, got carried away, and ended up well over a T-rating, as well as shamelessly abusing the notion of a sentence. So, I clipped the sentence off before it became R-rated, expanded a little, and posted it as its own fic. Go me.
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It's not fair to ask a guy his favourite thing about his woman when he's got a girl who looks like her, all soft rich brown hair and big gentle laughing brown eyes and the prettiest little mouth he's ever seen on a she-creature, but Gotz thinks he has an answer.
He just can't get enough of her legs. Too bad she keeps them hidden, day in and day out, weather notwithstanding, underneath those long, frilly skirts and petticoats. It isn't all bad; it's a little bit like unwrapping a present.
First he reaches around her, thrilling to the sensation of her warm, rapid breaths against his chest, to untie her apron and throw it aside like the pretty, useless little bows she always puts on his birthday gifts. Then he unties her scarf, maybe uses it to blindfold her if she's in that kind of mood. After that, he unbuttons her blouse and slides it back off her shoulders, leaving her bright pink and crossing her arms shyly across her chest. Back around to unhook her bra, pull her arms away, and a quick flick of the tongue against each pert duskyrosy nipple while she bites her lips to hold back a cry.
Then it's time for the skirt. Oh, that's the best part. Some nights he likes to just get it off of her as fast as possible and bury himself between those gorgeous little legs. But other nights, he likes to leave her in it a while, reach up under and grope through layers of cotton and muslin while she squirms in his lap.
But just because he can cope with the long skirts, doesn't mean it doesn't drive him crazy when she puts on a mini. He follows her around as long as he can all day, glares at any male creature who lingers a little too long on those slim, pale, satinsmooth calves, and waits for his chance.
He always finds it, too, the perfect moment to shove her back against a tree, or a wall, or the kitchen counter, or wherever he can catch her, and kiss scalding trails over her knees and up over her thighs while she squeaks, terrified, that someone's going to come by, they're right out in the open where anyone can see.
And sometimes, he forgets to stop when he reaches her pastel cotton little-girl undies, buries his face in her warmth, presses his lips to the collecting spot of moisture, and nips at her until her hands tighten painfully at his hair.
By the time he hooks his fingers under the waistband and pulls the damp cotton away from her, she's completely out of protests, and doesn't even try to stop him from lapping at her, growling against her flesh, tightening his hands over her hips to pull her closer when her thighs start to tremble at his cheek, and he knows that she's already so far gone that it won't be long before her legs give out entirely, and she gives a long, choking moan and collapses.
No one's ever caught them at it, even when they don't make it all the way home first, and he knows he shouldn't push his luck.
But damned if he doesn't go just a little bit crazy when Elli wears a miniskirt.
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End Notes: Ahem. Blushblushblush...