Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora.
If you would like to interact with characters like this (well, maybe not *just like this*, lol, but you get the idea), please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome.
She sat up, then got to her knees on the bed. Not all fours. More like she was kneeling in church, and she defiantly looked him over. Her fingers slipped lower again, her thong still physically on her body and just shoved to the side to give her access, the same as Ted had accessed her and brought her off, silently telling him that she'd do for herself if she had to and he was welcome to do the same...
He was making his way over to the bed and her words were spat at him, and they earned her a harsh look. Clearly, he was pissed. Not because she was demanding he use a condom but the reason behind it. Her negative emotions were clouding her reasoning.
"There's no need for that, Miranda," he said sharply, and made his way over. There's no need for that because whenever he'd slept with someone else, he had used condoms without fail, for pregnancy reasons AND for disease reasons. It was his WIFE who he went all-natural with, and while his own reasoning might be fucked up to anybody else, he expected Miranda to know that he wasn't stupid, not like that.
If she really insisted on it, fine, he would use one, even though it meant he wouldn't feel her like she's meant to be felt, but the fact remained that there was no need for it. And if he remembered correctly, Miranda has a latex sensitivity, which means that condom in his wallet would only serve to make her further swollen in a little while. She's already going to feel this for a while...does she really want a possible allergic reaction, too?
He picked up his shorts for his wallet to extract the condom packet from it, practically glaring at her all the while.
She knew what "there's no need for that" meant. But it wasn't all what he thought she was thinking. The fact that there was no need for it meant that he hadn't gone unprotected with anyone else, and that reassured her some, but it also fucked with her head for a second.
If he hadn't gone unprotected with anyone, then he hadn't gotten serious with anyone. Which meant maybe part of him wasn't ready to move on from her. The same way she wasn't fully ready to move on, but she'd rather be alone than with someone other than him.
DAMN IT!
"You're an asshole," she hissed, and almost ripped her fucking thong off, the elastic getting loose from her finger and snapping against her flesh, leaving a pink mark on her hip. She was equally rough with unhooking her bra and throwing it to the side.
A condom wasn't just to prevent disease. It would've prevented them actually touching completely, that little bit of latex which, yes, she might get an allergic reaction to yet it would keep that little bit of distance emotionally for her, and deny him some pleasure.
In his own twisted way, he'd remained a little bit faithful, and in her own screwed-up way, she appreciated it on some basal level. She glared back at him as he approached. All she wanted to feel was him. She didn't want these feelings coming now, the what-ifs, the what-could've-beens.
She just wanted to be left a sweaty, hurting mess. She fell back from kneeling to sitting, sitting to lying on her back, and her supple thighs spread widely, her finger finding her clitoris right in front of him, as if to say "With or without you, I *will* come. Again."
He's an asshole? No, well, ok, he can be, but he saw through why she called him that. He saw the flicker of anguish that went through her face when she grasped what he'd said to her. That he hadn't been completely stupid. And on a certain level, hadn't strayed too far and jumped headlong into an actual -relationship- with another woman, where protection could be forgotten. These weren't conscious thoughts or long thought processes going on between either, as neither were really capable of that right now, but just hints of realizations.
Miscommunication, misdeeds, mistakes: 3 things that defined their relationship. Miscommunication happens. It's about sorting it or trying to communicate better, that's how things work. Misdeeds..well, shut up. Sometimes you don't appreciate what you have until you don't have it anymore. And the mistake was her baiting him like that, especially since she was going to work on herself with her hand and goading him once more.
He entered her roughly, taking her up on the invitation as she lay back like that, to give her what she had, or hadn't bargained for. Now it was time to take what he needed, while leaving behind the marking of his territory. Cruel? Didn't care. Well, didn't care much. Well, cared but they both needed this right now. Powering through, his body pinning hers to the mattress after she'd welcomed him with open thighs had him not lowering slowly, but taking all of her in one shot. All he could hear for a moment was his own heartbeat, the blood rushing and pounding in his chest, in his ears, the surge of their bodies connecting in an almost violent need happening now.
Yeah, somebody's gonna feel this later. Maybe 2 somebodies. After initial entry, he didn't take it slow, but instead, methodically. He intended to last for quite some time, not that it was always easy to with her, but given how she's sort of not in a position to get up and move, he was going to give it one hell of a shot to keep her there and on the receiving end of what she'd taunted him into.
