Her knees hit the edge of the bed, and he followed her down, his jeans undone and their slight tussle pulling them further down his hips.
She pushed weakly at his shoulders, but of course she couldn't move him. She wasn't really trying. She turned her head aside and denied him the kiss he was reaching for. But he didn't mind, he tilted his head and drug his tongue over her exposed throat, a wet line that made her struggle harder, made her arch her back and push her hips against his.
It was an accident, of course it was. He was spilled through the open fastening of his jeans, and the hot, hard weight of him pressed against her thigh. Because, of course, her skirt had ridden up when he forced her onto the bed, and now there was nothing protecting her flesh from his.
"Aki, no," she gasped, her voice breathless and weak with distraction. Her nails dug into his shoulders a moment before she remembered she was suppose to be pushing him. Suppose to be resisting.
He nipped at her throat with blunt teeth, and she forgot all again, giving up her token resistance as her voice grew stronger, but only with pleasure. "Oh, no, stop," she whispered, and at least half of her meant it. Or maybe it didn't.
Her hands slid back into his hair. She thought about clenching them there and pulling sharply.
He caught her hands, bound them in one of his, and pushed them over her head. It stretched her out beneath him, like a sacrificial bride. It put a deeper curve to her back and lifted her breast, pressing them up against her blouse and seemingly tightening the thin white cloth across them. The small, faux pearl buttons pulled and he drew back, his dark eyes resting nearly sightless on her flushed face before slowly sliding down.
His stare was like a soft touch, her breasts tightened with the weight of his eyes on them, the nipples becoming clearly defined through the tissue-thin cloth. She saw his intentions before he moved, saw his lust sharpen into hunger, and began to struggle earnestly, her body making small fluttery motions of 'escape', that seemed only to press closer and rub her against him.
It didn't divert him. His hand tightened on her wrists, and he pulled her arms higher, making her breasts push tighter against the cloth.
With a soft, little moan that seemed to jolt through her body, he bowed his head over her and skimmed a fleeting kiss, right over the tip of her left breast.
She gasped, jerking in his hold. His hand tightened reactively, and his mouth came back for another kiss, before he slowly parted his lips and drug his tongue across her.
"Aki! Oh, don't! It's wrong..."
"I don't care," he murmured before he closed his mouth over as much of her breast as he could, and sucked hard through the cloth.
Something like a string pulled tight through her gut, silken heat, liquid honey from his mouth straight through her centre. She throbbed in reaction.
It wasn't enough. He was panting. He drew back, and his free hand grasped the frail cloth of her blouse, wrapped a half-fist in it, then jerked. Buttons popped and spun as she jolted with a startled gasp.
Breaking buttons and ripping cloth seemed more logical then undoing the fastenings one at a time. It parted right down the middle, splitting open to where the waistband of her skirt cinched it. And she shook with the sharpness of his action, feeling something deep inside her trembling at such a physical manifestation of his loss of control.
What a queer moment, to see his loss of control, while he still maintained control of her. For a long moment she stared up at the star-studded ceiling and just...breathed.
Her stomach caved as cool fingers slid slowly up her torso, skimming the skin just barely and leaving desperate shivers in their wake. They teased around the underside of her breasts, following the lines of her bra, tickling the boundary between cloth and flesh. He breathed slow and warm against the plunging 'v' of her cleavage, watching his own hand touch her. She took a hard breath and paused, warming fingertips kissing the sensitive skin over her frantically beating heart. He leaned slowly down, dragging gold hair over her throat, and placed a chaste kiss right above his fingers.
Then they slid down, pulling the cup of her bra with them.
She squirmed in helplessness and discomfort as the cold air hit her hot flesh, but it didn't last long. His mouth was there. He tucked her bra under her breasts, the cloth no longer supporting, but pushing them up towards him like a sort of offering. He greedily moved to accept, running lips and tongue over her until she was squirming, and whimpering, and pulling at her hands in reaction.
The heat of breath and saliva, the coolness of air that followed, only to be replaced by heat and tongue and teeth again, she found herself shifting on the bed, her hips lifting slightly as her thighs squeezed and relaxed around him, touching rough denim and hot flesh.
And, because it wasn't real, things shifted again. Became less grounded in possibility (though she told herself otherwise, there was possibility here. At least, her body seemed to think so...).
But this...
Her arms were behind her back, crossed and bound at the forearms with a belt he had not been wearing before. But that didn't seem to matter. She was on her knees, with her broken blouse still gaping open over her chest.
In the abstract, she knew why she had bound her hands, but her mind still twinged uncomfortably with the thought of restraint. But she didn't pull herself back from the fantasy. She wanted to see where it would lead.
It wasn't as if it were real...
He was kneeling on the bed before her, knees pressed gently against hers. His shirt was still gone, and his hair was ruffled from fingers, hers and his. He still wore his pants, but they remained undone and pulled low, she didn't know why, but the sight seemed more distracting then full nudity. Like the blue made a perfect frame.
He was hard, fully erect and curving unyieldingly against his abdomen. The sight of his readiness swept heat into her face, made her hands shake and curved her fingers slightly. She sank her teeth into her lower lip, harder and harder, as she watched him warily.
Unease and anticipation seemed to build in her stomach. She wasn't so lost in self-deception that she couldn't distinguish both.
He smiled gently at her, casting a boyish tilt to his gold head. "You love me. You want me. Admit it."
She swallowed hard. "No..."
Her eyes had trailed down with the movement of his right hand, watching light fingers play with the hard edge of a nipple. Her hands clenched behind her back, her mouth growing wet.
He didn't push, because they both knew she was lying. He pushed slowly up on his knees until he was above her, hovering close and strong. She tilted her head back to look up at him, her hair falling back over her shoulders and making her shudder.
She watched him breathlessly, wondering where her mind would take her next. There was beauty in love and sweetness, but there was something drugging about pure sensuality. Pure lust. Of not having to worry about consequences, of still being able to tell herself that she tried to say 'no', but could not stop what was happening.
Fingertips rested to either side of her cheeks, then slid back, curving around the base of her skull until his thumbs rested in a line beside her ears. She blinked up at him, but he didn't finish the move by trying to kiss her. He tilted his head back and pushed up further on his knees, with his hands he guided her head forward until her closed mouth was pressed against his chest. When he took a deep breath, that same hard nipple she had watched him trace nudged at her lips.
He held her there and she went still, wondering what exactly she was suppose to do.
"Please," he whispered, and shifted just a little, rubbing that nipple lightly over her lips. Her hands curled at her back as heat pooled low in her stomach. Something about that plea made her want to do whatever he wanted. But she couldn't. Not yet. He had to make her...
With his hands on her head, he guided her face, creating an enticing friction that laced over her mouth and seemed to burn down her centre. The silken hardness of his nipple, the slight roughness to its texture teased at the soft skin of her lips. She felt them loosening, though she didn't part them, and he pushed gently between. The movement of her tongue seemed almost instinctive as it flicked over him. He moaned, his fingers clenching in her hair as he tilted his head back even further, pressing his chest closer to her, and deeper into her mouth.
She remembered what he had done to her, and closed her eyes. She tentatively licked her tongue across the very end, pressing against that strange little shallow depression that made his body twitch and the breath hiss out from between his teeth. She played with that little spot, just to hear him pant and feel his body shift and push restlessly against her.
She pulled back to draw in a few sharp breaths, then let his fingers maneuver her forward again. She closed her eyes and slowly slid her lips over that wet, little nipple, slowly closed her teeth around its edges and lightly clenched them.
He groaned out-loud, a rough sound that seemed to spear right down her body. His hands pushed harder at her skull as his hips bucked once.
It didn't seem conscious, and indeed, when she rolled her eyes up to look at him, she saw his eyes closed, his brow slightly furrowed in clear pleasure, and most compellingly of all, his lips part as the breath panted through them.
She pulled gently on him with her teeth just to watch him twitch and tighten again. Just to hear that sound again.
She closed her eyes and placed tiny, gentle kisses on his chest.
He wound his hand through her hair, gently pulling, then curved his fingers slowly around the back of her head. He pressed down.
It was a slight pressure, more of a silent direction, and she obliged, sliding her mouth down a little lower. She pressed a loose kiss to his sternum, running the tip of her tongue along the definition of his strength.
He clearly liked that, but he didn't stop there. He urged her a little further down and she froze in place in shock, her mind finally stirring with an idea of where he was guiding her.
She stared with wide eyes and panted against the rise and fall of his stomach. She didn't think it, she resisted the push of his hand in innocent confusion.
He didn't stop. He pushed harder, and lifted up on his knees at the same time, and suddenly his hard length was nudged against her cheek.
She jerked, but he held her in place, a soft moan escaping his lips as her marginally cooler skin rubbed against that hot, slightly moist part of him. She tried to pull back, but his gentle fingers were suddenly like steel bands around the back of her skull.
"Please," he gasped, and she felt him shaking beneath her cheek, in the fingers clenched in her jaw. "Aya, please!"
And she marveled at the desperate, begging tone to his voice. Wasn't he the one in control? Wasn't he the one holding her in place and trying to make her do this?
She stopped struggling and leaned her forehead against the sharp edge of his hip-bone, felt him rub against her cheek with the quickness of his breath, and his shaking...
Neither of us are really in control, are we?