Willingly
Soul Calibur, Maxi/Mina
By mrasaki
completed 7/2002
One thing will always lead to another, her father had always said. Her brother had chimed in with, Men will always be men; they want only one thing when he had come of age and had accumulated enough experience to know what he was talking about.
Though she disagreed with the latter, the former was certainly true enough, Mina reflected. She gasped as Maxi's tongue flicked across her clit, the sensitive spot only she had explored before. One thing definitely led to another. So far, she had no problem with that.
She had always imagined her first time happening after she was married, in a vast chamber richly decorated with red silk, in a bed with silken covers, and with a husband she didn't particularly care for. She had anticipated a long and rather dull future with brats popping out one by one and herself growing fat and apathetic, easing the pulsing ache every lonely night with her fingers, quick and unsatisfying. At the risk of being accused of preferring women, she'd resisted her father's efforts to engage her interest in such a life. There had been no doubt he'd succeed in forcing her to marry eventually, tying her down with the chains of duty and family.
She pressed her hips up to Maxi, her fingers twisting and twining together as she held her breath. She didn't know what he was doing down there, except it felt good and if he stopped, she'd scream. If she screamed, her brother would come busting in and slice Maxi up into ribbons. Maxi knew it too.
Instead of a luxurious room in her own house, she'd gotten a seedy inn with dirt streaks across the walls and water stains on the ceiling. Instead of a feather bed and silk covers, she'd gotten a lumpy straw mattress with a dingy white coverlet that looked like it had seen better days. Instead of a slavering, repulsive—but rich! as her aunties had always added—moron of a husband, she'd gotten Maxi. All in all, it was a pretty fair trade.
Her lover kissed a moist trail down one thigh and lingered on a knee, his fingers stroking her other leg. She whined and pushed her hips up again, supplicating. He laughed. She raised her head to glare at him and nudged him with a knee. In response, he nipped her gently on the inside of her thigh, at the juncture of leg and groin. She nudged him again.
Just before she hit him with a lumpy, dingy pillow, he returned to the area in question and resumed, taking the kernel between his teeth and giving it alternating strokes with his tongue, then moved down and tasted the trickling saltiness there. She mussed his hair abstractedly with her hands as she writhed.
He moved a finger into the moisture and explored, stopping when she squeaked and pulled him up into her kiss. She reached down and explored the hardness that pressed against her thigh with inexperienced fingers, blushing as Maxi groaned and rocked into her curled hands.
One thing always leads to another, she thought fuzzily as Maxi bent his head just enough to suckle at one small breast. No, definitely no problem with that. Her hands were wet as she rubbed the tip of his erection, the hot heaviness of him matching the melting of her own center.
He knew the consequences of their actions as well as she. But the weight of everyone else's expectations and restrictions seemed to matter less in the close room where the scent of sex hung palpably in the air.
The taking was slow and unhurried, an exquisite filling and spreading as Maxi worriedly scanned Mina's face for any sign of pain. There was only a dull soreness, not the ripping, tearing agony her friends had gossiped and frightened each other of. He nibbled at her neck and jaw line as he moved..
It is nothing like what they know, Mina thought in a haze. Those married of her friends were wrong--this was no boring rite to be tolerated every night! She gasped as he brushed her clitoris again, and bowed her back as his thrusts became heavier and faster, his breathing moist and rapid on her neck.
It was a sweet burning that built and flooded her senses as she cried out and matched his pace, her attention focusing on a crack in the ceiling in bright clarity as she came. She vaguely heard his answering groan moments later.
A long life of stolid security, the bars of her prison veiled in wealth and luxury, traded for a life of uncertainty and of doubtful longevity, but also of freedom and love.
It was a fair trade, and Mina had no complaints.