trenchknives | Open Post

If that's what you want.

[And he'll bend down to do just that, but soon enough, his mouth is back where it should be, which is her thighs. And of course his mouth is moving ever so slowly upwards, because his intentions should be pretty obvious by now. He's not just down here for her legs, although given the way he's running his hands over them, he'd agree that they're pretty darn fabulous.]

No, I think it's you who wants something. I just don't know what.

[That right there, the press of his lips against the tops of her bare feet do something to her that Angela can't explain past really fucking hot. It's a power thing, him on his knees in front of her, practically submitting just to get at her. It is obvious, of course, but this game is too good to give up.]

[Truth is, he'd be willing to submit to her completely, and not just for the sake of getting at her. There're times he genuinely enjoys being told what to do. Right now, though, with his lips still pressed to her upper thigh, he's intent on tugging her underwear down, then looking up at her devilishly to speak.]

Can you guess what I want yet?

[If only he knew what that would do to her. She should tell him sometime.

In the meantime, she bites her lower lip harder the farther down her panties get, thighs trembling just slightly with anticipation. He really needs to stop with those eyes. They make her weak.]

Nope.

Guess I better make it really obvious, then.

[His eyes may make her weak, but he hopes she'll find that his mouth makes her weak, too, because he's breaking his gaze with her so that he can finish kissing his way up her thigh and then finally kiss between her legs. It's a light kiss, at first, almost teasing, but after a few seconds, he can't resist anymore, tongue getting involved too, still somewhat slowly, feeling the way her thighs are trembling.]

[Her next line was about him using his big boy words instead, but this is so much better. That soft and warm tongue against slick and sensitive flesh... it's no wonder she hisses loudly when he skates by her clit, barely brushing against it. She comes to rest her hands on the counter behind her, ignoring how it digs into her back in order to tightly curl her fingers along the edge.]

[But why use his words when he can use his mouth for so much more worthwhile pastimes? Besides, it doesn't sound like she's complaining much, especially not when she hisses like that, which only encourages him to do it again. This time, it's not skating by her clit so much as lingering there, hands on the back of her thighs to keep her held close, tongue busily at work.]

[Her toes curl against the lineolum tile under her feet, the friction causing just a bit of a squeak that's drowned out but a squeak of Angela's own. Gripping the counter just a bit tighter has her knuckles turning white and the longer he works at her, the louder she drawls his name out. Any other words seem impossible.]

[That's just what he wants, and his grip tightens on her thighs a little, holding her as tightly as he can without digging his nails in too hard. He'll never be able to explain why he likes doing this so much; contrary to what people might assume, it's not a power thing at all -- it's probably just genuinely liking to be able to make her feel that way, to hear the noises she makes and feel the way her body responds. There's nothing teasing about his motions anymore: his mouth is insistent (and talented, if he does say so himself) and all he wants to do is keep hearing her say his name like that.]

[Her thighs shake even harder now, from gentle shivering to damn near earthquakes. The muscles tense and release and she doesn't feel like she has any power to control them. Angela knows very well why she likes it; it feels good and it's fantastic to just be able to relax and let somebody else satisfy you. No pressure for more than to enjoy herself, letting the orgasms happen when they do.

But she's still a ways off from coming, so she encourages him to do more by moving a hand from the counter to the top of his head, fingers slipping into the strands of his hair. Angela's gently petting him, not yet giving him that harsh tug she knows he likes. He hasn't earned it yet.]

[He takes encouragement well -- always has, because he'll never be able to entirely turn off that part of his brain that's eager to please and to take orders -- so her fingers in his hair just inspire him to try harder. With one hand still gripping her, his other hand frees itself from his grip on her thigh to gently nudge her legs a little further apart, enough to slide one finger inside of her. The way he sees it, if his mouth is good, his mouth and fingers can only be a better combination, right?]

Fuck.

[That finger was a little unexpected, but nowhere unwelcome. He's doing a lot and quickly too and far be it from Angela in her infinite impatience to slow him down. In fact, as she tightens around his finger, pulling her walls to squeeze him like she does with his cock, she's going to demand more.]

Another... one. Shit...

[Certainly a rough-edged demand and not a polite request.]

[He's certainly not looking for polite requests; the demand makes him laugh a little, sounding pleased, but he doesn't break contact with her at all -- she'd probably kill him if he pulled his mouth away now. Since she doesn't seem interested in him going particularly slowly, he slides another finger into her, seeing just what kind of noises and words that'll get her to make.]

[She'll kick him and then strangle him if he moves away, but Angela's glad he knows better and knows how to follow her demands well. The moment he slides that second finger inside her, she raises up on her tip toes, groaning at the slight stretch. It feels so good that her head falls back and she tightens again, needing to feel more than just this. Greedy, isn't she?]

[Greedy, maybe, but in a good way. Honestly, it just encourages him, and the rhythm of his motions with his tongue and fingers quickens a little, trying to push her over the edge, wanting her to lose control entirely. This is the kind of thing he could do all day and never get bored, although maybe it's best that he doesn't tell her that, since then he'd never get anything else done.]

Oh god, Jimmy, oh god.

[Those fingers at the top of his head tighten and tug pull at his hair and this could end badly for his hairline. But try finding it in Angela to care when his tongue flicks and rolls against her like that and his fingers curl against that sweet spot. She would let him do this all day; no need to tell her.]

Jimmy... I'm gonna...

[Far be it from him to complain about having his hair tugged at like that. He enjoys it, he always has, and damn, hearing her say his name like that, that's enough to make him willing to do just about anything. He'd be encouraging her with his words, too, if his mouth weren't otherwise occupied, but he thinks his tongue is plenty encouraging as it is. With as firm a grip on her thigh as he dares, he pulls her as close as he can, the fingers of his other hand working to rub against that sweet spot.]

[She keeps calling his name until it gets stuck in her throat and it comes out strangled and incoherent as her orgasm hits her. Her thighs are shaking, her entire body's convulsing, her knees threatening to give out on her... Angela feels like she's on fire and she's going to die but it's the best death ever and a fantastic way to go.

And one the waves die down, she slumps back against the counter, grateful she has some support because she'd be face down on the kitchen floor, a puddle of satisfaction.]

[He doesn't pull away until he's absolutely sure every last ounce of pleasure has been wrung out of her, but when he does, there's definitely a look of self-satisfaction on his face. His hand stays on her thigh, almost helping to prop her up against the counter, but he doesn't bother to get off of the ground yet.]

So. Does that count as me gettin' into trouble?

[Waving a hand, Angela needs a few moments before she can find her voice again. Breathing, normally at least, is hard but doable so when she does answer his question, the words are strained and shaky.]

Whatever you want, you can totally have it.

Pretty sure I just got what I wanted.

[Still grinning. Still cocky.]

[He's an asshole, but he's her asshole.

At any rate, she waves her hand again and finally gives in to her weak knees, aliding down to the kitchen floor.]

I need to sit down.

[Only it's more like lying down by the looks of it. The floor's nice and cool against her sweaty skin.]

[He'll just sit right here, too, reaching out to stroke her cheek almost tenderly. Hey, he can be kinda sappy sometimes, so what?]

[Angela can't help but lean into his touch, eyes slipping shut and feeling just a bit drowsy.]

You okay over there?

[Because as well as she knows Jimmy, she bets her entire paycheck that he's riled up.]

Yeah, I'm okay.

[He is riled up, but for once, he doesn't want it to be about that. Maybe it's because he's feeling a little romantic. The kind of romantic that might make him say stupid things, if he's not careful.]

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