I dropped my story for a bit. It was summer! Summer is going out, fun, I'm not depressed time! I will mostly come back and spruce this story up but I wanted to get it out there! It is the official lemon chapter :D HOORAY!
Also I began watching Princess Tutu Zwei on youtube and was so mesmerized by the storytelling and animation.
Please watch the series and support the Princess Tutu Zwei story! It is so exciting and lovely! Entirely made by one person and it is SO GOOD it feels like an official release of the third season of Princess Tutu. Oh my heart!
I hope you find this chapter romantic and lemon-ey!
I love this pairing
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Ahiru was a dreamer. Even after Fakir made her dream of becoming a girl come true, she dreamed. Was that ungrateful?
She was a duck, okay? Her body showed that. Instead of being slim like Rue her butt stuck out. She was staggered by the heavy load of her chest. Nothing like a prima donna. But she could be a new type of donna. A duck donna! Ahiru already had one dream come true so why not another? Just to see what could happen. Life was already so sweet Ahiru dared to see how sweet could she take it?
When Fakir ordered her to get into a ballerina's starting position her blood moved so quickly she got dizzy. She felt red all over. She wasn't a dummy! She knew something shifted between her and Fakir. So, his simple corrections weren't so simple anymore. They were more like . . .sexy corrections.
Whatever that meant. Dreams of her and Fakir: the expressions on his face, his encouragement turning into pleading, how that nest of hair would look between her fingers . . . these dreams confused her. Made her giddy and scream like a girl at a rock concert. But inside. Where Fakir couldn't see it.
She felt the tension rise as the time Fakir got home neared. Excitement and fear and excitement and fear on loop. It was strange to be in love again. When she loved Mytho, she dreamed of seeing him smile. Of having her former prince parading his heart around for all to see. Mytho showing his brilliant dance on the world stage. Pretty love. With Fakir her love was more sensational. Her spine chilled. Her toes were jittery, and her head was steaming. Just from thinking about one night with Fakir! She was coming down with something. Was she in heat? GAAH how embarrassing. She wondered how she even broached the topic earlier with Karon.
Then Fakir whooshed in the house like a knight. She hesitated to confront it, to acknowledge
'yes Fakir came home. Time to face the music Ahiru!'. Odd. How the person she fantasized about all day made her want to run and hide.
Then he soothed her worries by holding her in his arms. He was warm. That chill left her body. Her mouth trembled in anticipation and her eyes fluttered closed. He wrapped her in a fantasy. Friend or foe?! How could she even posit him as a foe? How rude! But who was Fakir to her now? More than a friend but what did that mean?
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Frazzled, lost in the sauce, ignorant and beyond salvation, the source of it was smiling up at her like the dreamiest dreamboat anyone could ever dream of. Fakir was so drool worthy her brain spilled out of her mouth, loudly.
He looked at her in a way some called arrogant or smug. To Ahiru it made her feel secure . . .
"How long have you been warming up?"
Ahiru gulped. That's right. She was dancing. Upstairs. How could she forget? "Since you and Karon wanted time alone. Dancing is so fun and I haven't practiced at all today".
Fakir chuckled, "Whereas that's all I've done today. But,"
He presented his hand "We have yet to dance".
Ahiru reached for his hand eagerly, then ripped it back as if she were burned.
She peered into his eyes, poking out her bum and sticking out her chest, a pose she often took to show concern. In Fakir's old unitard, it was heaven. The black outfit highlighted her decolletage reddened from exercise.
"Are you sure Fakir? You're not too tired?"
"Don't worry about that". Fakir spun her around. Their dance commenced. It had been a while since they had danced. As eager as Ahiru was to take up the sport, she had to build up her endurance. However what she lacked in stamina she replaced with enthusiasm.
That ducklike style was there along with that signature elegance of hers. Ahiru felt light as a feather, free as a bird.
The itching in Fakir's hands ceased. He was gentle with Ahiru. Which was rare for the danseur who had to be tough on both his partners and his students in order for them to meet his expectations.
Fakir lifted her, presented her to the heavens. She exclaimed, her hair swinging in the air. Fakir hugged her back into his arms lest some jealous god snatch her away.
He danced normally but inside, he felt so different. Her hands were like two hot irons in his. He denied his reptilian brain and held on. The accidental grazes jolted him. He was not considering only himself. He was thinking of his partner. His lips skimmed the rim of her face. He was intoxicated by her breath. He sought it out like an incubus extracting life. Or a man who fetishized the tones of his beloved's breath. He would pass his mouth over hers, hovering over and over again . . .
Their attraction gained power. Her mouth tickled his cheek. It felt like their lips were meteors destined to collide. On fire, molten and explosive. Resistance?
Impossible.
Patience? Gentlemanly.
"Ahiru?
"Yes Fakir?" She said under his trance.
"Can I kiss you"
". . Yes".
She was a princess. Ahiru deserved . .
Fakir crouched on his knees like he was groveling. His body warmth suddenly gave Ahiru to breathe. She preferred the lack of breathing if it meant dancing with Fakir. Seeing him on the ground took her breath away again
"Fa-Fakir?".
A kiss? That was not good enough. He took her foot in his hand. He kissed it.
"What are you doing?".
"Ahiru". Fakir said in a deep voice. "Soooooo, serious". She thought.
,
He kissed the top of her foot. It was ticklish. She kicked her foot away from his mouth only for him to cradle it. Holding her other foot in place so she couldn't move, balancing on her unsteady foot and the barre, Ahiru endured the moist tenderness of his mouth.
The kiss on her shins was funny. Fakir's lips made her realize that shin was mostly a bone. Were her bones poking him? She wondered. The kiss on her thighs was too much. She just had so much thigh! She tried to bite back her moans but was unhinging with every pass of his lips .
His kisses varied. A kiss pressed deeply into her thigh. Light fast kisses that made her skin sparkle, open mouthed kisses that made her breath hitch. Kisses leaving her murmuring and yelping gibberish. All the while shimmying from his grasp. Fakir's hands ran up the sides of her waist, to her hips. He gripped her thighs. Every inch of his fingers was hot fire crawling against her skin.
.
Ahiru felt his tongue slide out and nip her. She kept squirming . .
Ahiru was squirming in a way that was making Fakir lose his mind. Did she know? This was the exact tempo he wanted to . . you know, her at. She was too good. Her little pants, her big moans, those full bodied undulations that made her thighs jiggle and her stomach tremble . . . he was drowning.
He licked her thigh, the velour unitard abraded his tongue and he hardly had to imagine how soft and warm Ahiru's skin would be instead . . . Fakir nipped her thigh jealousy.
She almost kicked him in the stomach. She tried to apologize. He cinched her waist in his arms. Fakir's arms were like iron bars around her bottom
"Fakir!" she shouted.
It was so close. So hot. His face nuzzled against her belly and above her , oh.
She couldn't believe how strong he was. How strong a person could be. Fakir had always been larger than life: in attitude, in ambition, in willpower. Fakir made Ahiru feel like his equal but with Fakir on his knees before her, she could hardly keep standing.
Ahiru took purchase in Fakir's hair, leverage from falling face-first and to get a hold on her mind. Ahiru remembered how she dreamed of his hair . . . . it was damp. And had a faint scent of cherries. He really did make all of her dreams come true. She blushed furiously. It felt so natural to transition from dancing to . . this. She enjoyed being twirled, being held, being kissed but she was still embarrassed to look at him. It made her feel so intensely, so deeply, she felt she should apologize.
She opened her eyes after what felt like an eternity. Fakir was illuminated by the moonlight. His forehead added another layer of heat to her core.
At first Fakir didn't kiss her belly. He licked his way up from her leg, skipping her core and dipped his tongue into her belly button. Ahiru thrashed against him but she couldn't gain an inch.
If he wasn't so agile she would have keeled him over. Her legs jogged to expel the excitement he was sparking in her. Her pants becoming shrieks. Her arousal bubbling to that peak again.
"Ahiru" he hissed. He had to be a gentleman. At this pace that was impossible. Her reactions were so forceful and so positive it encouraged him to go harder, faster. Match her pace? Screw that. He had to outpace her. Lead her, wow her, floor her. On the floor if he was lucky. God he was hard. He was holding back and that made him sound angry. He mentally chastised himself and would apologize later but now he just had to work through his overpowering lust.
"You have to grab at the roots, not the strands". His voice was breathy.
His words strengthened the spell he was casting on her. She registered what he said.
"ahh ahh ~ ~ okay". Her voice was alien. Fakir stopped for a moment. He took her in and before Ahiru could meet his eyes, Fakir kissed the skin that orbited her belly button. Not one area left untouched by his lips. Ahiru must have been dreaming. This masterpiece of a man was touching her, again!
The unitard barely kept his skin off hers. Ahiru was making those small "O" sounds. Depending on how much she enjoyed one kiss over another they sounded different. But she didn't stop moaning. She couldn't stop.
Fakir had to keep his head. He had to clamp down on the animal in him when he neared her chest. God. She was wearing his clothes, reacting to his caresses.
Her breasts were a threat. Hot. Soft. They grazed him.
A tough choice but he decided to slide his lips between the crevasse between her breasts, simultaneously rising from his crouched position to stand. Ahiru pulled at the nape, pulling him away and making him shiver in delight. Fakir groaned. Ahiru was a little spit fire. Fakir gave her that look he gave her when he knocked them over while reading. That was it. This was unbelievable.
It was deeper and breathier and different too! This was the voice Fakir pulled out of her. When he touched her she lost whatever vestiges of a mind she had. She was an animal. She was always an animal. Whether a duck or girl or Princess Tutu. . .
"Fakir . . . ". Ahiru said. Then she pounced on him. Fakir fell on his back and it was only a lifetime of ballet that made him land safely. Ahiru straddled his lap and pressed herself into him. It felt so good to press herself against him. She couldn't help it. She was rutting like a duck and she wasn't even embarrassed.
She decided pressing herself against Fakir's wide, hot, muscular chest was an excellent use of her breasts. Her nipples hardened like sugar crystals against him and here eyes were rolling back at how shockingly arousing this part of her body could be.
She wrapped her fingers in his hair again and pulled his head back. As Fakir gasped, she was in awe of his wide, muscular throat choking on a moan.
Ahiru licked his neck in a hot sweeping motion, holding Fakir's head back brutishly. It was so unlike Ahiru to be so rough. This pink princess who fed the birds, helped others rediscover their passions was pulling his hair so hard Fakir howled. So hot. So wild. Biting her lip and clenching her eyes as if she were enraged at Fakir for turning her on. She was dangerous.
He relished it. He shivered in ecstasy and submitted to her desire. Absently Fakir worked his hips into a sensual steady rhythm underneath her. His hands glued lazily to her hips. Again she pressed her breasts against. He was right. They were a threat. He wanted to do 100 things at once and they all involved her breasts.
Before he could get to it, she kissed him. Sloppy, wet, untrained. Her tongue was everywhere. Fakir adored her abandon. He ground deeply against her core as he enjoyed her passion play.
Panting and moaning was interspersed between their kisses. Fakir's were guttural and satiated. Taking in his lover's affection steadied his need to take her but the more Ahiru kissed Fakir, her tongue and lips being played with like a violin, her moans became high pitched with desperation.
Fakir was not a good kisser, be was an amazing kisser. The best the best the best!
Already he had kissed up to her legs. She knew he was good. But this feeling of his mouth in hers this relief this overpowering FINALLY feeling . . . She could not help but feel teased. Desperately, unfairly, wantonly teased. Goodness that was so like Fakir. And now that he was playing her lips like a piano accompaniment, while his hips kept up this delicious tempo that was making her drool and forget to close her mouth or remember to pucker her lips or to NOT moan in ecstasy while he bit her tongue, or to think enough about how to stay on his lap while being kissed to smithereens. She popped her mouth off to shout . It was too good. Way too good. She was seeing stars and losing balance. Ahiru tried to find balance be releasing his hair and grabbing the floor. Fakir spanked her.
Aaahhh. It was hard to think. When Ahiru moved like that it took everything to not bend her over, pull her down, crush her against him and take her.
She knew what that was. Between his legs. Underneath her. That thing melting her. his heat makes her flower blossom. That part of him that made her every exhalation a moan.
"Ahiru," Fakir grabbed her waist "Like this".
To which Ahiru undulated better, sexier.. Faster.
And she slipped.
She slipped in typical Ahiru fashion.
Though his mind was scattered his body was very much in the moment and under Ahiru. Fakir grabbed her arms before her mouth could be missed. God he thought he was going too fast and look at her go~~
Before he could secure her mouth again,
"Faaakiiiir ~~ I want more. Do it. Please".
That made Fakir's member jump, ringing Ahiru's core like a bell. She yelped.
Fakir remembered himself. He opened his eyes
To see Ahiru red faced and desperate for him to move her. She wanted it. Instinctively, he knew what she wanted. Where she wanted it. How fast. How hard. He was compelled to please her. Yet, her passion made him feel dangerous too.
"No".
"Fakir you jerk! Why won't you?!"
She steadied her hands on his chest and ground her hips into Fakir's. Up and down up and down pounding her core into the hard member peeking from underneath Fakir's nightclothes. He thanked god he hadn't put on boxers. Their bodies were riding against one another's with the most delicious membrane separating them.
"Enough". Fakir commanded. His voice bejeweled with lust made Ahiru sparkle like an emerald.
Fakir picked Ahiru up and rolled them up so they were upright. Ahiru straddling his lap. Bodies close together
"Why won't I what?" He taunted.
"Fa-Fa-Fakir" Ahiru stuttered worshipfully.
Fakir let the animal run free. He cupped her ass in both palms and pressed her close against him. His hair was thick but soft. It swayed gently across her face as she bowed to the pleasure of their bodies. Trying to get more she crooned, enjoying what she had already received
"Say it Ahiru" Fakir ordered. "What do you want?".
Her body was a dagger. That's the only explanation as to why he felt her so deeply in his body. She was soft, hot, round and excited. Her hard nipples were painting his chest, telling him that she was ready. Best of all, Ahiru was sensitive. Every touch made her jump like a wet fish sliding out of hands. The long undulating rolls of her on his rod were followed by these little jumps , like she was giddy. Couldn't wait for the next glide of their cores. What did he want? Why was he bullying Ahiru?
"Fakir". She breathed out. Her eyes glowing sapphires. "I love you". She kissed his nose tenderly. "I want you. Whatever you will give me. I want you. I want all of you".
That's right. He is a selfish insecure bastard.
She took his breath away. Fakir rolled into her hips like ocean waves. Ahriu ground her core into Fakir's lap. His hips rolled like a tide and Ahiru rode his wave. They moaned. Like ocean waves in the night, unpolluted with people, their moans were muffled but roaring. Slowly they built a rhythm like the one that made her cum the previous evening.