Author's Note: Sorry for the wait, and thank you so much for your support! I appreciate it so much! I'm wishing you all a happy & healthy new year! Enjoy some more scandalous times ;)
Hypnotized. She's falling away from grace and the worst part is, she's letting it happen.
Because the world around them doesn't turn with them. They're always fighting the current, either going too fast or too slow — she's never realized this until time and her breath stopped at this exact moment. There's no single emotion she can name.
None except for desire.
This sudden desire to drown, collapse, indulge, slide down the earth and let it take her where it wants her to go.
Fall into him.
Even in the dark, he's all she sees.
And she shouldn't risk closing him off, oh, I want this, don't I? but the silence is so heavy on her, shoulders stiff and collarbones ready to crack from the weight.
The look in his eyes is incredible. I deserve this? Her whole body reverberates and hums with these sick flames of a fire. I deserve to be looked at in this way?
She shouldn't. But she does.
"Rah—" her voice trips over her tongue, "Ran-muh!" An air of a scream.
In spite of this… this older look of his, his beautiful brows furrowed over his beautiful eyes, he stops, chest to chest, breathless.
"Shu-shut up." And it sounds so strange — it's so low, so heartless, but it sounds like he's begging.
His voice ringing in her head, then. Don't say it out loud. Don't make it real.
"O-oh…" she breathes, afraid to lift her hand to her mouth. To break something. Herself, him, time, anything. Everything's so thick and fragile, it could topple over and come crashing down if she… if she doesn't… if, if, if… oh.
Leaning in… he's leaning in, she's not ready for it, her heart hurts from how hard it's beating.
She gasps and cranes her neck at the same time his swerves to the side, his nose grazing the top of her cheekbone. The feeling falls like stardust, like dying fireworks down her whole entire being.
Her parted mouth, his own breath fanning over her skin like a cloud, running like an electric wire down her neck. She feels so soft everywhere. Like she's his and she can't even fight it.
She wants to ask. If he feels the same.
If he's as terrified as she is of what she wants. The enormity of her desire. If he has it, too. If it's also splitting him apart. If he also feels like he's not meant to carry something like this inside.
But she knows the answer — you don't need your own mirror to tell you the truth. It never fails to show you.
His eyes, blown over, burn into hers. No coldness of the night, no coolness of the silver moonlight could smother the blaze.
His lips graze her throat, and it stings like a scrape from concrete. And they go down the column, not — not kisses, but something close, something that could be, and on her skin, all she feels is the way his lips tremble.
She presses the pads of her fingers into his biceps. It stills him, breath heavy and slow right under her collarbone. He had to dip his head to get there. She feels bad to keep him in place, so she unsticks her shaking hands from his arms and slides them onto his shoulders, fingers nearly under the straps of his tank top.
"I—" she nods dumbly, mouth dry. He's not looking at her. She inhales deeply from her belly and licks her lips. What can she say? How can she make it not feel so scary anymore? The answer comes crashing as a tidal wave from her throat.
"God, act like a man, Ranma!" her exclamation shakes as it covers the sound of their heavy breath. "You're so—"
But she doesn't need to say another word, because whatever nonsense she was ready to spew spilled into a sharp huh!
He shakes the noise roughly out of her as his hands slide into her pajamas, into the sides of her underwear, so hot oh my god so hot and yanking her forward by the fabric, hips aligned with hers somehow and palms melting on her hips, gripping her so tight, she wants the bruises, doesn't she? Don't I? I really don't mind?
He drives his forehead into hers, and she's bending back a bit with the force, her vision on his. The darkness in his eyes kills and resurrects her, and she doesn't get it. She'll never understand it, not one bit, but it's what he does to her and despite the terror she feels at the prospect of falling, she thinks she is.
Falling… for him?
She stares at him with wide eyes, so vulnerable that she can't even move.
I want to fall… into him.
"C—" she doesn't trust her weak voice, but she goes on, anyway, "c-c'mon."
Do I? Do I? Do I?
But he still stares so intensely, and she can't believe it's him holding her like this. So intimately. Maturely.
Manly.
"Mmm," she whimpers as a warm shock floods her system.
He squeezes his eyes shut. Squeezes her. "Fuck."
Drags her to her bed and sits her right on his lap.
She's dying.
Her top slips off one shoulder, and he clenches his jaw at the sight. It stirs something inside of her. If she weren't so… on, she'd smile.
He holds the base of her skull with his whole hand, eyes like dark blue magma melting her alive. "Tell me you want it."
And she understands it. A question disguised as a demand, barely held together with the tinge of desperation that cracks his voice. He's just as afraid as she is. If not, more.
Her heart is melting into liquid. She feels her pulse like a weight wherever they touch. Wherever they meet, it's ruining her.
His eyelids flutter, like he can't take it anymore. What does he want to do to her?
She'd rather feel it than hear it.
She nods slowly, then recklessly, inhaling shakily, heaving. Waits for him to look back up, and nearly mewls when the length of his fingers slide onto her lower back. He leans in, chin grazing her chest as he looks up, something like pain in his eyes. She frowns slightly, like she's ready to cry if he is, but he only sighs.
She adores him like this.
"I want it," is all she whispers. All she needs to.
He pulls at either side of her shirt, buttons flying off as the fabric slips down her arms. "Hey!" she cries, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Shut up," he rasps.
Whatever argument she has dies with his hands pulling her arms down by the wrists and sinking his teeth into her breast.
"Ah!" she gasps, writhing over him, only for him to buck up against her.
"'kane," he says, a warning, a plea, she doesn't know this time. Only that it leaves her wanting.
How strange, yet so fitting. That he'd bite her again before he even kissed her.
He licks her there, something trying and hesitant. She grabs his shoulders, almost touching his neck, and whimpers as he noses the strap of her bra. He tries and fails to drag it down with his teeth, hands sliding up beneath her ribs and gripping her tighter in his frustration. She rolls her shoulder and lets it fall.
When did she start cradling the back of his neck?
The other strap falls by itself. He grazes his open mouth over her other shoulder before nipping at it. Trails it down to the top of her breast, irritating the same little spot over and over, making her head spin as her face overheats.
His fingers trail up her spine. They stop at the hook of her bra, trembling and fumbling and she holds on tight as he curses into her neck, looking over her back. He's shaking too hard to unhook it. She's too overwhelmed to help him.
"What the hell!" he growls, tugging at the fabric. The way it scrapes her back makes her jump.
"Ow!" she cries, digging her nails into his neck. He hisses and she seethes. "What was that for?!"
"For not helping me!" he growls, and it shakes her inside.
She blinks quickly, collecting herself as the irritation slams into her coiled stomach. "It's not my fault you can't take a girl's bra off!"
He grits his teeth, clenching the strap with both hands. "What's that supposed'ta mean!"
She huffs, clenching her fists on his shoulders. "It means, you turn into a girl, and yet, you don't know how to take care of one!"
The air hits her bare chest before she can register the sound of something tearing. She blinks dumbly down at him, his heaving chest brushing her still one with each breath.
"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" he says, but she's not sure it's the Ranma she knows.
This Ranma seems to go for what they both want.
She's dizzy. Spinning as her hardened nipples graze the fabric of his shirt. Spiralling as his eyes slowly leave hers. Exiting her physical body as he stares at her breasts with this expression of complete and total awe.
He brings her safely back down when he wraps his arms around her waist and lays his forehead on her chest. The heat of his skin makes her feel even more hot, but she doesn't want him to go.
His breath is shaky. Of course it is. Of course.
Her own shaking hand threads itself through his hair. The other spreads itself upon his shoulder. She focuses on the rise and fall of his back, stuttering. And then his lips running along the inside of her breast in not-kisses, like untying ribbons out of her hair, and she sighs into it.
He cups both of her breasts in his hands, strong but still unsure, and she puffs her chest out slightly so he'd succumb. He squeezes her fully, firmly, and her head lolls back. How can this feel so amazing?
He buries his face between her breasts, open mouth closing over her sternum, and she thinks that maybe — maybe he might, maybe he might —
"Mmm," he moans brokenly, lowly, painfully. It shoots through her.
She can't think of anything else to say. "Ranma…" Nothing else. "Please."
With the roll of her hips, he drags the flat of his tongue over the underside of her breast. Over her nipple. Then takes it into his mouth.
No, she has never felt this before. Ever.
Her knees press into his sides. She tucks herself further into his lap, because somehow it's possible, and his hand is holding her tightly at the lowest part of her back, the other holding her other breast firmly. He's sucking deeply — so deep, so slow, and it electrifies her, comforts her, she's reeling reeling reeling reeling how can he make me feel this way? She's losing her mind, losing control, and there's soft noises being pulled out of her throat as she cradles his head. She's rocking against him, feeling the heat of his desire under hers, she's dying.
"Fuck yes," he rasps, guiding her with his hand, closing his teeth gently over her nipple. "Such a good girl, 'kane, so good, so good…" his voice dies into a whisper, the only proof of his words being his lips on her skin. He lifts his hips, groans, sighs, shaking…
He latches onto her other breast, holding it to his mouth. She feels so small… so feminine like this…
I'm floating.
Her dizzy head is off somewhere in the clouds. If this isn't real… what can she do about it?
But that's him, saying her name over and over, so strung together and scrambled, desperate, he's moving faster against her…
Then he's crushing her to him. His face hiding in her neck. Arms wound all the way around her middle. He holds his head the same exact way as he continues to shake beneath her, a cute little whine escaping him. Maybe her, too.
He nuzzles into her, or maybe he's shaking his head? He's so hot but she doesn't mind it, but when he leaves her, she does.
"I'm sorry, Akane, I'm sorry," he whimpers, looking down in shame.
It cuts through her high. Gently, she takes his face in her hands and tries to get him to look at her, but he only leans his cheek over her shoulder. She laces her fingers through his hair and scratches lightly at his scalp, calming down a bit as he melts. "Ranma, it's okay… you're good, Ranma…" she coos, running a thumb over his cheek.
"No… no, I'm so…" he sucks in a breath. "I'm… god. I dunno, 'kane, I'm—I gotta…" She feels his lashes flutter over her skin before he takes her wrists and pulls them away gently. He looks at her for only a moment, and the shame she sees already haunts her.
She wants to cry because he's hurting. She wants to laugh because he's so sweet for it. She thinks she's about to do both at the same time.
He must see her smile, the tears in her eyes, because he squeezes his shut as a blush heats his face. He leans in like a child sharing a secret. "You're too beautiful, that's why, 'kane…" he says in a rush before turning his face away.
She scoffs. Laughs in utter disbelief. "What?" she says, covering her grin with her mouth.
He shakes his head, confused. "Y-you didn't…?"
"What are you talking about, Ranma? Everything was… fine. Like, really fine!"
"O-o-o-oh," he stutters. "I, uh…"
She tilts her head, waiting patiently, her hands playing with the base of his pigtail. "Yes, Ranma?" she says softly.
He looks at her with these wide, young eyes, and it makes her heart ache. She smiles even more.
"I finished," he says quickly.
She blinks at him. Oh.
"Oh."
She's never seen him this red.
But… why?
"You're right, Akane, I turn into a girl, but I can't even take care of one! I can't believe this! I'm so… I never felt like this before! I'm so fucking embarrassed!"
"Ranma…"
"I should make sure you… finished first! And now I'm just here, and I look like an idiot! God!"
"Ranma."
"I'm so sorry… I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, 'kane, plea—"
She slaps her hands on his cheeks and brings her nose to his. "Ranma!"
"Y-yes?"
"What's the big deal? Just relax!"
"U-u-uh…"
"It's… not something you get right on the first try… I don't see the problem, Ranma."
He knits his brows together over his big eyes, looking equally as confused as awed. His parted mouth quivers slightly. "R-really?"
Why is her heart pounding now? She better stop the world before she comes back down to it and realizes what they did.
Oh my freaking god.
"O-of course!" she says, suddenly flustered. "Yeah!"
The panic instantly ignites on his face, and he's standing in the next second. She yelps and wraps her legs around his hips, feeling his arms flex around her waist. They look up at each other then, and she feels as much like a deer in headlights as he looks.
Without breaking eye contact, he lowers her to the ground, and she almost forgets that she's not wearing a shirt until he flicks his gaze down and coughs awkwardly. She wants to scream for some reason but she refrains, only crossing her arms over her chest as she scrambles for her pajama top. She growls when she puts it on. She already forgot about how he ruined her favorite freaking pajamas!
"You're ridiculous," she says, brow twitching as she holds either side together.
He chuckles nervously, walking backwards as she walks towards him. Now she's getting pissed.
How come he's walking so funny?
"You're going to buy me new pajamas," she says plainly, death in her stare.
He nods in fear. "G-g-g-good night, Akane…"
With one last look, he grins awkwardly and leaves, shutting the door behind him.
And as soon as she leaves, she aches.
Why do I miss that idiot so much?
She sighs, falling onto her bed and curling into a ball.
Akane Tendo has ruined him for life and she didn't even have to try.
Not only is she fucking irritating and annoying and violent and many other things, she's absolutely. Goddamn. Delicious.
And gorgeous. God, she's so freaking gorgeous.
Maybe he's possessed again — there's a good chance he is. Because he would not think these thoughts if he were in the right mind, not ever.
But he has them. And the taste of her skin in his mouth.
Of her breasts.
He slams his head against the bathroom wall, because he had to take another fucking shower because he's a sorry excuse for a man and he fucking came in his pants!
She… felt… so… fucking… good. On. My. Cock.
"Ugh," he groans. He's half-hard, holding himself with one hand on the wall as he grabs the base of himself. "What the fuck do you do to me, baby?"
Apparently she's baby now, or maybe she has been for awhile but now he keeps saying it, thinking it, thinking about her pretty, pretty body pressed to his. He's never seen such a perfect chest. Never felt one, either, and he's blessed to have hers be his first.
How someone can taste as beautiful as they look, he doesn't know.
There's a flash of the memory of her breasts bouncing when he tore her bra off.
"Fuuuuck," he whispers, pumping himself slowly.
How hot she felt where she was sitting on him, grinding down on him…
"Mmm." He squeezes himself and bites his lip. She's so damn cute. Moving those pretty hips over me. He sighs, trying to recreate the movements with his own, rocking back and forth into his fist. "Fuck yes." That's what he said, wasn't it?
I wanna eat her. I wanna eat her. I wanna eat her whole. She's mine. Mine mine mine mine minemineminemineminemine
"Ah!" he cries brokenly as he cums again, pumping everything out of himself, only for the memory of the aftermath to come back to the surface and humiliate him all over again.
He drags his face on the shower tiles, letting all the remnants wash away. If only it could erase the fact that he can only last a good minute anymore.
His body goes slack with the weight of his shame. Fuck. He has to make it up to her. Nevermind that everything about it is strange. She needs to know that he's not some chump who's only looking to get himself off.
He rinses off his oversensitive body and dries off, slipping on a fresh pair of pajamas and welcoming the coolness of the hallway.
He was so turned on, he just felt the need to rip everything on her off. But he's broke — he can't buy her a new pair! She'd probably make him get something expensive too, just to get back at him…
Maybe she can wear my clothes to sleep.
Holy shit… is he seriously getting turned on again?!
He walks past her door, cringing as the wood creaks beneath him. Everyone's gone to bed now — he can't risk anything, or maybe that's just his excuse right now. They've fought in the middle of the night plenty of times before.
Do I want to fight, though? Or am I just expecting her to?
Does he want her to fight? So it'd go back to normal?
As if our normal was ever normal in the first place.
He tilts his head at his own thoughts. "Our?"
His heart stops as her door knob turns. He presses his back flat to the wall and holds his breath, praying to whoever that she doesn't notice him.
But he's not actually praying for that.
She sticks her fists on her hips and raises her brow, her torn top replaced with an oversized shirt. He doesn't realize he's raking his eyes down her body until an image of her wearing his shirt, and only his shirt, courses through his mind.
He licks his dry lips and meets her eyes, so mean even though her cute cheeks are all red and splotchy.
He's moving on his own accord, all his fears evaporating into the air. He comes in close and feels this flicker of pride when she bends her neck back to look up at him.
"Can I make it up to you?" he says low, cupping the back of her neck so she doesn't have to hold it there herself.
"Huh?" she breathes, confused.
He rolls his eyes. "You know what for, Akane."
She blinks up at him, folding her hands over her chest. "O-oh…"
He nods, twirling her hair between his fingers, hoping it feels as good as when she touched his hair. He pulls his expression into something serious and leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.
"Please. Whenever you're ready."
With a small smile, hesitantly, he lets her go.
When did I lose my mind?
