Ache
An ache.
"-kura."
Drip.
Water droplets slid down a pale throat that had turned a dishonorable shade of red.
The cream-colored evidence of his darkest desire was splattered all over the black walls of the shower. It highlighted the absence of color in his line of vision.
"H-ha."
Drip.
Rivulets of warm liquid ran like a stream over an equally wayward-colored pair of pectorals.
Dark brows were drawn together, as if retiring in the only position they were capable of holding. The muscles seemed to have grown tired of maintaining an expression that defied the truth of his inner feelings.
Splat.
Another drop of misbehavior fell from his arousal and onto the wet stone beneath his bare feet.
Canines were attached indecently to the plump bottom lip in their possession.
Drip.
The edges of his teeth wished for a wholly different texture entirely.
Shisui's chest heaved with an intense effort to capture the stubborn oxygen evading his lungs.
Specifically, a delicate throat that he could still practically taste.
Curly raven locs that were soaked in the secrecy of the showerhead were glued to the black tile his head had fallen forward against.
Splat.
A powerful hand was plastered against the same moist black material supporting the weight of a body so heavily submerged in arousal that his veins protruded against the strain.
His left hand, coated in the same evidence as the wall and the wet stone, was still wrapped around the taut flesh that had nearly driven him to collapse.
Its grip around it was still tight enough to keep his eyes sealed shut.
"Ah-n."
He rubbed his wet forehead in humiliation against the black tile as his arousal enthusiastically jumped against the unyielding stranglehold of his fingers.
The vision behind his closed eyelids was one of rosy lips that did not mind dirty hands.
His hips were bucking against his own hand before he had time to grip the wall above him tighter to properly handle his own weight. The disobedience of his hips caused his right hand to slide further up the black tile and his nipples to harden even more when they met the cold moist surface of the tile in front of him.
It felt so wrong in comparison to the sensation of her warm breasts molded against him.
The spray of the shower insulated the ragged moans slipping out of his moisture-covered lips.
Wave after wave of pleasure, that was not nearly enough, riddled his spine and skull.
This time he could not stroke the angry and red skin of his heavy arousal.
Instead, his hips had become so unruly that they fought against his own hand in their insubordination. The cage of his pelvis dragged the length of his desire back and forth through the poor imitation of relief.
The circle made by his palm and fingers would never be small enough or tight enough to cure him of the sickness that ailed him.
"Ha-hh." his breathing was more than frayed as the fingers of his right hand above him flexed harder against the burden of his entire weight.
Each thrust brought him closer to a release that would surely cause him more ache.
Drip.
His aristocratic nose was kissing the tile and red.
Red in the way that made his stunning features look like a transgression.
Drip.
His hips were determined to reach the black tile in front of him, but he was well aware that the head of his arousal would never find solace against its cold wet surface.
"A-ah."
His left hand strengthened its grip and with a force that was almost cruel, the hips that had obtained a mind of their own pushed the angry red tip past his fingers and to the wall in front of him.
Drip.
The shock of the cool wet tile was enough to cause his seed to spill in seconds all over its surface.
Her name fell from his lips almost like a prayer, as his desire erupted like lava from his core and covered the wall his hips had pressed him into.
Splat.
The pleasure overriding his brain was not nearly enough.
Drip.
"H-ha."
The sound of the shower running swallowed the rest of Shisui's pants until he had regained the strength to open his eyes.
Dark eyes were trained on the black wall beneath him and the stickiness of the white liquid that was slowly inching down the moist tile.
His eyes lowered further to his left hand when he felt his length jump again inside his palm.
Before his hips could pull back once more, he dropped his hand from the arousal that continued to persist.
Shisui sighed in a hopeless manner.
Drip.
He stepped away from the wall and retrieved his right hand which had acted as his body's support.
It would never be enough.
Dropping his head to his still red chest, Shisui let the warm water pour over the back of his skull and watched the drops fall from each curly loc of raven.
And he knew it.
Drip.
An ache that never went away.
AN:
Was listening to 'sak noel, salvi franklin dam tocame (slowed)' on youtube while writing this.
The bass really be hittin.
For the last chapter, I had been been listening to AfroGochi by Snox
I've realized that when I'm writing stories I think I depend on the melody of the instrumental to be the inspiration for how I set the tone of the interactions, whether it's sensual or playful.
And I use the bass to determine the level of intensity of the contact made between the characters.
Issa mood :') lmao, if that made no sense it's okay.
Do you guys hate me less now with this little treat?
(Review review review pls)