Aya's mind swam with alcohol and sensation. Or better to say she tossed about helplessly on their tides while her mind sputtered words like 'don't!' and 'stop!'. And occasionally an incoherent surge of 'don't stop!'.
On the way home it had seemed like a good idea. Get the truth out in the open, and then they could move beyond it. She was sick of holding it down for so long.
She just hadn't imagined that 'this' was what was beyond it. She wasn't exactly certain how she had managed to go from confronting him, to being sprawled out beneath him on the futon with his hand between her legs. There were dots, and she knew they connected, but she couldn't seem to remember how.
Or much of anything else.
...
It was better than the dreams.
Or worse.
Her hands clenched on his shoulders, a subconscious response trying to telegraph something to her, but she couldn't decipher it. Was she supposed to push him away? Or pull him closer? She tried to push the feeling away long enough to think it through, but his touch deepened, and all the reassembling thoughts burst in her head again, severing the tenuous connection between reason and sensation. Her heels dug hard into the futon, and her hips jerked up on their own. Then her hands fell as he suddenly slid down and the touches stopped, and for one second something important began to gather in her mind.
But then his mouth was on her, hot and wet through already damp cloth. She gasped, twisting her upper-body slightly to one side as his hands fell heavily on her hips, anchoring her and pushing her legs further apart. She found her knees bent and butterflied, her naked thighs trembling as his fingers pressed against them.
He licked over the cloth, rubbed his tongue down and back up hard, dragging breaths from her in near-sobbing pants. Then his finger was pressed against her, rubbing again and again as his lips traced up to the elastic of her panties. Clever little fingers slid under, and then the quick flick of a tongue. A strange spasm shot through her lower stomach, and she couldn't sit still. Her legs tried to draw together again, but he determinedly pushed them apart.
Her shoulders twisted, her hands dragging at the covers. She wasn't thinking of escape, she wasn't thinking anything. She just had to move.
He began sliding her panties down and his lips followed, warm, open-mouthed kisses that made her stomach clench and flutter. Her body curled up, and she wound her hands in his hair, pushing at him slightly without any true conviction or understanding to the motion.
But for one second the sensations stopped, leaving a strange throbbing echo in her body. And she shook, falling limp across the skewed covers. Her hands opened, slipping from his hair as the sound of her own breathing suddenly seemed so inexplicably loud to her.
Hands ran down her bare legs, gentle touches, soothing caresses. She stared up at the ceiling, patterns of dimming stars, and all the confusion ebbed away for one moment, leaving her shivering in awakening awareness.
This...this is really happening...Aki...Aki is touching me...
A sharper breath.
He's...
A longer blink as hands slid back up to her thighs, thumbs turning in and tracing teasing lines over her softer underside.
He...
A sensation like hot liquid, thick and honeyed, slowly pouring into her stomach from above. A heralding breath, and her eyelashes, which had been growing steadily more heavy, snapped open wide as his thumbs gently pulled her thighs apart and he placed a chaste kiss right at her centre.
It definitely felt different without the barrier of thin cloth, and she struggled slightly, thrashing within her own confusion to try to figure out if she should stop this. But when his tongue lapped slowly over her, she could only tangle her hands in his hair and cry out.
He groaned against her, and the vibration of it sent another sharp shudder through her.
Is this...is this how he feels?
She didn't really examine the thought, it floated on the surface of her mind, before slipping under.
When he touches himself?
When he touches a dream of me...?
Does he feel this out of control?
His mouth embraced her, teeth playing gently with her, but it was such a new and unfamiliar sensation, that she suddenly felt heat burst from her lower stomach, roaring strangely icy shivers right over her nerves. She moaned, it was the only word that could describe the low needy sound that seemed to come directly out of her throat, rather than her mouth. As his tongue and teeth worked at her, the sensation continued to grow, as did the sounds, until finally she couldn't bear it anymore, she sobbed and pleaded breathlessly, pulling at his hair, until finally he relented.
He relaxed, pushing up on his hands and knees as his head hung over her, as if it was almost too heavy to lift. His breaths seemed uneven and strangely cool as they hit her heated skin. Her thighs twitched from the feel of it while the rest of her seemed to fill with a strangely pleasant lethargy. A tiredness, and complete and utter lack of interest in trying to think coherently. Or even at all. All she wanted was to curl up in warmth and maybe sleep for a couple days.
A gentle, chaste kiss on her stomach. A fleeting, sweet kiss just bellow the hollow of her collar bone, where the swell of her breasts were still rising rapidly. Then loose, seeking lips covering hers, brushing and clinging and sliding lazily between her own.
A soft hand cradled her jaw, the edge of a thumb tracing over her cheek. And her eyes were closed as she tasted something wet and salty on his lips.
The same...this taste is the same as then...
Her hands still lay limp at her sides, and her lips remained passive and yielding under his, but she did not kiss him back.
TBC...